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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/487-0.txt b/487-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..39c224b --- /dev/null +++ b/487-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2034 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Songs of Travel, by Robert Louis Stevenson, +Edited by Sidney Colvin + + +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: Songs of Travel + and other verses + + +Author: Robert Louis Stevenson + +Editor: Sidney Colvin + +Release Date: October 27, 2009 [eBook #487] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF TRAVEL*** + + +Transcribed from the 1908 Chatto & Windus edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + + Songs of Travel + + + AND OTHER VERSES + + BY + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON + + [Picture: Chatto & Windus logo] + + EIGHTH IMPRESSION + + * * * * * + + LONDON + CHATTO & WINDUS + 1908 + +_The following collection of verses_, _written at various times and +places_, _principally after the author’s final departure from England in_ +1887, _was sent home by him for publication some months before his +death_. _He had tried them in several different orders and under several +different titles_, _as_ “_Songs and Notes of Travel_,” “_Posthumous +Poems_,” _etc._, _and in the end left their naming and arrangement to the +present editor_, _with the suggestion that they should be added as Book +III. to future editions of_ “_Underwoods_.” _This suggestion it is +proposed to carry out_; _but in the meantime_, _for the benefit of those +who possess_ “_Underwoods_” _in its original form_, _it has been thought +desirable to publish them separately in the present volume_. _They have +already been included in the Edinburgh Edition of the author’s works_. + + _S. C._ + + CONTENTS + + I. THE VAGABOND—Give to me the life I love + + II. YOUTH AND LOVE: I.—Once only by the garden gate + + III. YOUTH AND LOVE: II.—To the heart of youth the world is + a highwayside + + IV. In dreams, unhappy, I behold you stand + + V. She rested by the Broken Brook + + VI. The infinite shining heavens + + VII. Plain as the glistering planets shine + + VIII. To you, let snows and roses + + IX. Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams + + X. I know not how it is with you + + XI. I will make you brooches and toys for your delight + + XII. WE HAVE LOVED OF YORE—Berried brake and reedy island + + XIII. MATER TRIUMPHANS—Son of my woman’s body, you go, to + the drum and fife + + XIV. Bright is the ring of words + + XV. In the highlands, in the country places + + XVI. Home no more home to me, wither must I wander? + + XVII. WINTER—In rigorous hours, when down the iron lane + + XVIII. The stormy evening closes now in vain + + XIX. TO DR. HAKE—In the belovèd hour that ushers day + + XX. TO ---—I knew thee strong and quiet like the hills + + XXI. The morning drum-call on my eager ear + + XXII. I have trod the upward and downward slope + + XXIII. He hears with gladdened heart the thunder + + XXIV. Farewell, fair day and fading light! + + XXV. IF THIS WERE FAITH—God, if this were enough + + XXVI. MY WIFE—Trusty, dusky, vivid, true + + XXVII. TO THE MUSE—Resign the rhapsody, the dream + + XXVIII. TO AN ISLAND PRINCESS—Since long ago, a child at home + + XXIX. TO KALAKAUA—The Sliver Ship, my King—that was her name + + XXX. TO PRINCESS KAIULANI—Forth form her land to mine she + goes + + XXXI. TO MOTHER MARYANNE—To see the infinite pity of this + place + + XXXII. IN MEMORIAM E. H.—I knew a silver head was bright + beyond compare + + XXXIII. TO MY WIFE—Long must elapse ere you behold again + + XXXIV. TO MY OLD FAMILIARS—Do you remember—can we e’er + forget? + + XXXV. The tropics vanish, and meseems that I + + XXXVI. TO S. C.—I heard the pulse of the besieging sea + + XXXVII. THE HOUSE OF TEMBINOKA—_Let us_, _who part like + brothers_, _part like bards_ + + XXXVIII. THE WOODMAN—In all the grove, not stream nor bird + + XXXIX. TROPIC RAIN—As the single pang of the blow, when the + metal is mingled well + + XL. AN END OF TRAVEL—Let now your soul in this substantial + world + + XLI. We uncommiserate pass into the night + + XLII. Sing me a song of a lad that is gone + + XLIII. TO S. R. CROCKETT—Blows the wind to-day, and the sun + and rain are flying + + XLIV. EVENSONG—The embers of the day are red + +I—THE VAGABOND +(_To an air of Schubert_) + + + Give to me the life I love, + Let the lave go by me, + Give the jolly heaven above + And the byway nigh me. + Bed in the bush with stars to see, + Bread I dip in the river— + There’s the life for a man like me, + There’s the life for ever. + + Let the blow fall soon or late, + Let what will be o’er me; + Give the face of earth around + And the road before me. + Wealth I seek not, hope nor love, + Nor a friend to know me; + All I seek, the heaven above + And the road below me. + + Or let autumn fall on me + Where afield I linger, + Silencing the bird on tree, + Biting the blue finger. + White as meal the frosty field— + Warm the fireside haven— + Not to autumn will I yield, + Not to winter even! + + Let the blow fall soon or late, + Let what will be o’er me; + Give the face of earth around, + And the road before me. + Wealth I ask not, hope nor love, + Nor a friend to know me; + All I ask, the heaven above + And the road below me. + + + + +II—YOUTH AND LOVE—I + + + Once only by the garden gate + Our lips we joined and parted. + I must fulfil an empty fate + And travel the uncharted. + + Hail and farewell! I must arise, + Leave here the fatted cattle, + And paint on foreign lands and skies + My Odyssey of battle. + + The untented Kosmos my abode, + I pass, a wilful stranger: + My mistress still the open road + And the bright eyes of danger. + + Come ill or well, the cross, the crown, + The rainbow or the thunder, + I fling my soul and body down + For God to plough them under. + + + + +III—YOUTH AND LOVE—II + + + To the heart of youth the world is a highwayside. + Passing for ever, he fares; and on either hand, + Deep in the gardens golden pavilions hide, + Nestle in orchard bloom, and far on the level land + Call him with lighted lamp in the eventide. + + Thick as the stars at night when the moon is down, + Pleasures assail him. He to his nobler fate + Fares; and but waves a hand as he passes on, + Cries but a wayside word to her at the garden gate, + Sings but a boyish stave and his face is gone. + + + + +IV + + + In dreams, unhappy, I behold you stand + As heretofore: + The unremembered tokens in your hand + Avail no more. + + No more the morning glow, no more the grace, + Enshrines, endears. + Cold beats the light of time upon your face + And shows your tears. + + He came and went. Perchance you wept a while + And then forgot. + Ah me! but he that left you with a smile + Forgets you not. + + + + +V + + + She rested by the Broken Brook, + She drank of Weary Well, + She moved beyond my lingering look, + Ah, whither none can tell! + + She came, she went. In other lands, + Perchance in fairer skies, + Her hands shall cling with other hands, + Her eyes to other eyes. + + She vanished. In the sounding town, + Will she remember too? + Will she recall the eyes of brown + As I recall the blue? + + + + +VI + + + The infinite shining heavens + Rose and I saw in the night + Uncountable angel stars + Showering sorrow and light. + + I saw them distant as heaven, + Dumb and shining and dead, + And the idle stars of the night + Were dearer to me than bread. + + Night after night in my sorrow + The stars stood over the sea, + Till lo! I looked in the dusk + And a star had come down to me. + + + + +VII + + + Plain as the glistering planets shine + When winds have cleaned the skies, + Her love appeared, appealed for mine, + And wantoned in her eyes. + + Clear as the shining tapers burned + On Cytherea’s shrine, + Those brimming, lustrous beauties turned, + And called and conquered mine. + + The beacon-lamp that Hero lit + No fairer shone on sea, + No plainlier summoned will and wit, + Than hers encouraged me. + + I thrilled to feel her influence near, + I struck my flag at sight. + Her starry silence smote my ear + Like sudden drums at night. + + I ran as, at the cannon’s roar, + The troops the ramparts man— + As in the holy house of yore + The willing Eli ran. + + Here, lady, lo! that servant stands + You picked from passing men, + And should you need nor heart nor hands + He bows and goes again. + + + + +VIII + + + To you, let snow and roses + And golden locks belong. + These are the world’s enslavers, + Let these delight the throng. + For her of duskier lustre + Whose favour still I wear, + The snow be in her kirtle, + The rose be in her hair! + + The hue of highland rivers + Careering, full and cool, + From sable on to golden, + From rapid on to pool— + The hue of heather-honey, + The hue of honey-bees, + Shall tinge her golden shoulder, + Shall gild her tawny knees. + + + + +IX + + + Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams, + Beauty awake from rest! + Let Beauty awake + For Beauty’s sake + In the hour when the birds awake in the brake + And the stars are bright in the west! + + Let Beauty awake in the eve from the slumber of day, + Awake in the crimson eve! + In the day’s dusk end + When the shades ascend, + Let her wake to the kiss of a tender friend + To render again and receive! + + + + +X + + + I know not how it is with you— + _I_ love the first and last, + The whole field of the present view, + The whole flow of the past. + + One tittle of the things that are, + Nor you should change nor I— + One pebble in our path—one star + In all our heaven of sky. + + Our lives, and every day and hour, + One symphony appear: + One road, one garden—every flower + And every bramble dear. + + + + +XI + + + I will make you brooches and toys for your delight + Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night. + I will make a palace fit for you and me + Of green days in forests and blue days at sea. + + I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room, + Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom, + And you shall wash your linen and keep your body white + In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night. + + And this shall be for music when no one else is near, + The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear! + That only I remember, that only you admire, + Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire. + + + + +XII—WE HAVE LOVED OF YORE +(_To an air of Diabelli_) + + + Berried brake and reedy island, + Heaven below, and only heaven above, + Through the sky’s inverted azure + Softly swam the boat that bore our love. + Bright were your eyes as the day; + Bright ran the stream, + Bright hung the sky above. + Days of April, airs of Eden, + How the glory died through golden hours, + And the shining moon arising, + How the boat drew homeward filled with flowers! + Bright were your eyes in the night: + We have lived, my love— + O, we have loved, my love. + + Frost has bound our flowing river, + Snow has whitened all our island brake, + And beside the winter fagot + Joan and Darby doze and dream and wake. + Still, in the river of dreams + Swims the boat of love— + Hark! chimes the falling oar! + And again in winter evens + When on firelight dreaming fancy feeds, + In those ears of agèd lovers + Love’s own river warbles in the reeds. + Love still the past, O my love! + We have lived of yore, + O, we have loved of yore. + + + + +XIII—MATER TRIUMPHANS + + + Son of my woman’s body, you go, to the drum and fife, + To taste the colour of love and the other side of life— + From out of the dainty the rude, the strong from out of the frail, + Eternally through the ages from the female comes the male. + + The ten fingers and toes, and the shell-like nail on each, + The eyes blind as gems and the tongue attempting speech; + Impotent hands in my bosom, and yet they shall wield the sword! + Drugged with slumber and milk, you wait the day of the Lord. + + Infant bridegroom, uncrowned king, unanointed priest, + Soldier, lover, explorer, I see you nuzzle the breast. + You that grope in my bosom shall load the ladies with rings, + You, that came forth through the doors, shall burst the doors of + kings. + + + + +XIV + + + Bright is the ring of words + When the right man rings them, + Fair the fall of songs + When the singer sings them. + Still they are carolled and said— + On wings they are carried— + After the singer is dead + And the maker buried. + + Low as the singer lies + In the field of heather, + Songs of his fashion bring + The swains together. + And when the west is red + With the sunset embers, + The lover lingers and sings + And the maid remembers. + + + + +XV + + + In the highlands, in the country places, + Where the old plain men have rosy faces, + And the young fair maidens + Quiet eyes; + Where essential silence cheers and blesses, + And for ever in the hill-recesses + _Her_ more lovely music + Broods and dies. + + O to mount again where erst I haunted; + Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted, + And the low green meadows + Bright with sward; + And when even dies, the million-tinted, + And the night has come, and planets glinted, + Lo, the valley hollow + Lamp-bestarred! + + O to dream, O to awake and wander + There, and with delight to take and render, + Through the trance of silence, + Quiet breath; + Lo! for there, among the flowers and grasses, + Only the mightier movement sounds and passes; + Only winds and rivers, + Life and death. + + + + +XVI +(_To the tune of Wandering Willie_) + + + Home no more home to me, whither must I wander? + Hunger my driver, I go where I must. + Cold blows the winter wind over hill and heather; + Thick drives the rain, and my roof is in the dust. + Loved of wise men was the shade of my roof-tree. + The true word of welcome was spoken in the door— + Dear days of old, with the faces in the firelight, + Kind folks of old, you come again no more. + + Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces, + Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child. + Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland; + Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild. + Now, when day dawns on the brow of the moorland, + Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold. + Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed, + The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old. + + Spring shall come, come again, calling up the moorfowl, + Spring shall bring the sun and rain, bring the bees and flowers; + Red shall the heather bloom over hill and valley, + Soft flow the stream through the even-flowing hours; + Fair the day shine as it shone on my childhood— + Fair shine the day on the house with open door; + Birds come and cry there and twitter in the chimney— + But I go for ever and come again no more. + + + + +XVII—WINTER + + + In rigorous hours, when down the iron lane + The redbreast looks in vain + For hips and haws, + Lo, shining flowers upon my window-pane + The silver pencil of the winter draws. + + When all the snowy hill + And the bare woods are still; + When snipes are silent in the frozen bogs, + And all the garden garth is whelmed in mire, + Lo, by the hearth, the laughter of the logs— + More fair than roses, lo, the flowers of fire! + +_Saranac Lake_. + + + + +XVIII + + + The stormy evening closes now in vain, + Loud wails the wind and beats the driving rain, + While here in sheltered house + With fire-ypainted walls, + I hear the wind abroad, + I hark the calling squalls— + ‘Blow, blow,’ I cry, ‘you burst your cheeks in vain! + Blow, blow,’ I cry, ‘my love is home again!’ + + Yon ship you chase perchance but yesternight + Bore still the precious freight of my delight, + That here in sheltered house + With fire-ypainted walls, + Now hears the wind abroad, + Now harks the calling squalls. + ‘Blow, blow,’ I cry, ‘in vain you rouse the sea, + My rescued sailor shares the fire with me!’ + + + + +XIX—TO DR. HAKE +(_On receiving a Copy of Verses_) + + + In the belovèd hour that ushers day, + In the pure dew, under the breaking grey, + One bird, ere yet the woodland quires awake, + With brief réveillé summons all the brake: + _Chirp_, _chirp_, it goes; nor waits an answer long; + And that small signal fills the grove with song. + + Thus on my pipe I breathed a strain or two; + It scarce was music, but ’twas all I knew. + It was not music, for I lacked the art, + Yet what but frozen music filled my heart? + + _Chirp_, _chirp_, I went, nor hoped a nobler strain; + But Heaven decreed I should not pipe in vain, + For, lo! not far from there, in secret dale, + All silent, sat an ancient nightingale. + My sparrow notes he heard; thereat awoke; + And with a tide of song his silence broke. + + + + +XX—TO --- + + + I knew thee strong and quiet like the hills; + I knew thee apt to pity, brave to endure, + In peace or war a Roman full equipt; + And just I knew thee, like the fabled kings + Who by the loud sea-shore gave judgment forth, + From dawn to eve, bearded and few of words. + What, what, was I to honour thee? A child; + A youth in ardour but a child in strength, + Who after virtue’s golden chariot-wheels + Runs ever panting, nor attains the goal. + So thought I, and was sorrowful at heart. + + Since then my steps have visited that flood + Along whose shore the numerous footfalls cease, + The voices and the tears of life expire. + Thither the prints go down, the hero’s way + Trod large upon the sand, the trembling maid’s: + Nimrod that wound his trumpet in the wood, + And the poor, dreaming child, hunter of flowers, + That here his hunting closes with the great: + So one and all go down, nor aught returns. + + For thee, for us, the sacred river waits, + For me, the unworthy, thee, the perfect friend; + There Blame desists, there his unfaltering dogs + He from the chase recalls, and homeward rides; + Yet Praise and Love pass over and go in. + So when, beside that margin, I discard + My more than mortal weakness, and with thee + Through that still land unfearing I advance: + If then at all we keep the touch of joy + Thou shalt rejoice to find me altered—I, + O Felix, to behold thee still unchanged. + + + + +XXI + + + The morning drum-call on my eager ear + Thrills unforgotten yet; the morning dew + Lies yet undried along my field of noon. + + But now I pause at whiles in what I do, + And count the bell, and tremble lest I hear + (My work untrimmed) the sunset gun too soon. + + + + +XXII + + + I have trod the upward and the downward slope; + I have endured and done in days before; + I have longed for all, and bid farewell to hope; + And I have lived and loved, and closed the door. + + + + +XXIII + + + He hears with gladdened heart the thunder + Peal, and loves the falling dew; + He knows the earth above and under— + Sits and is content to view. + + He sits beside the dying ember, + God for hope and man for friend, + Content to see, glad to remember, + Expectant of the certain end. + + + + +XXIV + + + Farewell, fair day and fading light! + The clay-born here, with westward sight, + Marks the huge sun now downward soar. + Farewell. We twain shall meet no more. + + Farewell. I watch with bursting sigh + My late contemned occasion die. + I linger useless in my tent: + Farewell, fair day, so foully spent! + + Farewell, fair day. If any God + At all consider this poor clod, + He who the fair occasion sent + Prepared and placed the impediment. + + Let him diviner vengeance take— + Give me to sleep, give me to wake + Girded and shod, and bid me play + The hero in the coming day! + + + + +XXV—IF THIS WERE FAITH + + + God, if this were enough, + That I see things bare to the buff + And up to the buttocks in mire; + That I ask nor hope nor hire, + Nut in the husk, + Nor dawn beyond the dusk, + Nor life beyond death: + God, if this were faith? + + Having felt thy wind in my face + Spit sorrow and disgrace, + Having seen thine evil doom + In Golgotha and Khartoum, + And the brutes, the work of thine hands, + Fill with injustice lands + And stain with blood the sea: + If still in my veins the glee + Of the black night and the sun + And the lost battle, run: + If, an adept, + The iniquitous lists I still accept + With joy, and joy to endure and be withstood, + And still to battle and perish for a dream of good: + God, if that were enough? + + If to feel, in the ink of the slough, + And the sink of the mire, + Veins of glory and fire + Run through and transpierce and transpire, + And a secret purpose of glory in every part, + And the answering glory of battle fill my heart; + To thrill with the joy of girded men + To go on for ever and fail and go on again, + And be mauled to the earth and arise, + And contend for the shade of a word and a thing not seen with the + eyes: + With the half of a broken hope for a pillow at night + That somehow the right is the right + And the smooth shall bloom from the rough: + Lord, if that were enough? + + + + +XXVI—MY WIFE + + + Trusty, dusky, vivid, true, + With eyes of gold and bramble-dew, + Steel-true and blade-straight, + The great artificer + Made my mate. + + Honour, anger, valour, fire; + A love that life could never tire, + Death quench or evil stir, + The mighty master + Gave to her. + + Teacher, tender, comrade, wife, + A fellow-farer true through life, + Heart-whole and soul-free + The august father + Gave to me. + + + + +XXVII—TO THE MUSE + + + Resign the rhapsody, the dream, + To men of larger reach; + Be ours the quest of a plain theme, + The piety of speech. + + As monkish scribes from morning break + Toiled till the close of light, + Nor thought a day too long to make + One line or letter bright: + + We also with an ardent mind, + Time, wealth, and fame forgot, + Our glory in our patience find + And skim, and skim the pot: + + Till last, when round the house we hear + The evensong of birds, + One corner of blue heaven appear + In our clear well of words. + + Leave, leave it then, muse of my heart! + Sans finish and sans frame, + Leave unadorned by needless art + The picture as it came. + + + + +XXVIII—TO AN ISLAND PRINCESS + + + Since long ago, a child at home, + I read and longed to rise and roam, + Where’er I went, whate’er I willed, + One promised land my fancy filled. + Hence the long roads my home I made; + Tossed much in ships; have often laid + Below the uncurtained sky my head, + Rain-deluged and wind-buffeted: + And many a thousand hills I crossed + And corners turned—Love’s labour lost, + Till, Lady, to your isle of sun + I came, not hoping; and, like one + Snatched out of blindness, rubbed my eyes, + And hailed my promised land with cries. + + Yes, Lady, here I was at last; + Here found I all I had forecast: + The long roll of the sapphire sea + That keeps the land’s virginity; + The stalwart giants of the wood + Laden with toys and flowers and food; + The precious forest pouring out + To compass the whole town about; + The town itself with streets of lawn, + Loved of the moon, blessed by the dawn, + Where the brown children all the day + Keep up a ceaseless noise of play, + Play in the sun, play in the rain, + Nor ever quarrel or complain;— + And late at night, in the woods of fruit, + Hark! do you hear the passing flute? + + I threw one look to either hand, + And knew I was in Fairyland. + And yet one point of being so + I lacked. For, Lady (as you know), + Whoever by his might of hand, + Won entrance into Fairyland, + Found always with admiring eyes + A Fairy princess kind and wise. + It was not long I waited; soon + Upon my threshold, in broad noon, + Gracious and helpful, wise and good, + The Fairy Princess Moë stood. {44} + +_Tantira_, _Tahiti_, _Nov._ 5, 1888. + + + + +XXIX—TO KALAKAUA +(_With a present of a Pearl_) + + + The Silver Ship, my King—that was her name + In the bright islands whence your fathers came {45}— + The Silver Ship, at rest from winds and tides, + Below your palace in your harbour rides: + And the seafarers, sitting safe on shore, + Like eager merchants count their treasures o’er. + One gift they find, one strange and lovely thing, + Now doubly precious since it pleased a king. + + The right, my liege, is ancient as the lyre + For bards to give to kings what kings admire. + ’Tis mine to offer for Apollo’s sake; + And since the gift is fitting, yours to take. + To golden hands the golden pearl I bring: + The ocean jewel to the island king. + +_Honolulu_, _Feb._ 3, 1889. + + + + +XXX—TO PRINCESS KAIULANI + + +[Written in April to Kaiulani in the April of her age; and at Waikiki, +within easy walk of Kaiulani’s banyan! When she comes to my land and her +father’s, and the rain beats upon the window (as I fear it will), let her +look at this page; it will be like a weed gathered and pressed at home; +and she will remember her own islands, and the shadow of the mighty tree; +and she will hear the peacocks screaming in the dusk and the wind blowing +in the palms; and she will think of her father sitting there alone.—R. L. +S.] + + Forth from her land to mine she goes, + The island maid, the island rose, + Light of heart and bright of face: + The daughter of a double race. + + Her islands here, in Southern sun, + Shall mourn their Kaiulani gone, + And I, in her dear banyan shade, + Look vainly for my little maid. + + But our Scots islands far away + Shall glitter with unwonted day, + And cast for once their tempests by + To smile in Kaiulani’s eye. + +_Honolulu_. + + + + +XXXI—TO MOTHER MARYANNE + + + To see the infinite pity of this place, + The mangled limb, the devastated face, + The innocent sufferer smiling at the rod— + A fool were tempted to deny his God. + He sees, he shrinks. But if he gaze again, + Lo, beauty springing from the breast of pain! + He marks the sisters on the mournful shores; + And even a fool is silent and adores. + +_Guest House_, _Kalawao_, _Molokai_. + + + + +XXXII—IN MEMORIAM E. H. + + + I knew a silver head was bright beyond compare, + I knew a queen of toil with a crown of silver hair. + Garland of valour and sorrow, of beauty and renown, + Life, that honours the brave, crowned her himself with the crown. + + The beauties of youth are frail, but this was a jewel of age. + Life, that delights in the brave, gave it himself for a gage. + Fair was the crown to behold, and beauty its poorest part— + At once the scar of the wound and the order pinned on the heart. + + The beauties of man are frail, and the silver lies in the dust, + And the queen that we call to mind sleeps with the brave and the just; + Sleeps with the weary at length; but, honoured and ever fair, + Shines in the eye of the mind the crown of the silver hair. + +_Honolulu_. + + + + +XXXIII—TO MY WIFE +(_A Fragment_) + + + Long must elapse ere you behold again + Green forest frame the entry of the lane— + The wild lane with the bramble and the brier, + The year-old cart-tracks perfect in the mire, + The wayside smoke, perchance, the dwarfish huts, + And ramblers’ donkey drinking from the ruts:— + Long ere you trace how deviously it leads, + Back from man’s chimneys and the bleating meads + To the woodland shadow, to the sylvan hush, + When but the brooklet chuckles in the brush— + Back from the sun and bustle of the vale + To where the great voice of the nightingale + Fills all the forest like a single room, + And all the banks smell of the golden broom; + So wander on until the eve descends. + And back returning to your firelit friends, + You see the rosy sun, despoiled of light, + Hung, caught in thickets, like a schoolboy’s kite. + + Here from the sea the unfruitful sun shall rise, + Bathe the bare deck and blind the unshielded eyes; + The allotted hours aloft shall wheel in vain + And in the unpregnant ocean plunge again. + Assault of squalls that mock the watchful guard, + And pluck the bursting canvas from the yard, + And senseless clamour of the calm, at night + Must mar your slumbers. By the plunging light, + In beetle-haunted, most unwomanly bower + Of the wild-swerving cabin, hour by hour . . . + +_Schooner_ ‘_Equator_.’ + + + + +XXXIV—TO MY OLD FAMILIARS + + + Do you remember—can we e’er forget?— + How, in the coiled-perplexities of youth, + In our wild climate, in our scowling town, + We gloomed and shivered, sorrowed, sobbed and feared? + The belching winter wind, the missile rain, + The rare and welcome silence of the snows, + The laggard morn, the haggard day, the night, + The grimy spell of the nocturnal town, + Do you remember?—Ah, could one forget! + + As when the fevered sick that all night long + Listed the wind intone, and hear at last + The ever-welcome voice of chanticleer + Sing in the bitter hour before the dawn,— + With sudden ardour, these desire the day: + So sang in the gloom of youth the bird of hope; + So we, exulting, hearkened and desired. + For lo! as in the palace porch of life + We huddled with chimeras, from within— + How sweet to hear!—the music swelled and fell, + And through the breach of the revolving doors + What dreams of splendour blinded us and fled! + + I have since then contended and rejoiced; + Amid the glories of the house of life + Profoundly entered, and the shrine beheld: + Yet when the lamp from my expiring eyes + Shall dwindle and recede, the voice of love + Fall insignificant on my closing ears, + What sound shall come but the old cry of the wind + In our inclement city? what return + But the image of the emptiness of youth, + Filled with the sound of footsteps and that voice + Of discontent and rapture and despair? + So, as in darkness, from the magic lamp, + The momentary pictures gleam and fade + And perish, and the night resurges—these + Shall I remember, and then all forget. + +_Apemama_. + + + + +XXXV + + + The tropics vanish, and meseems that I, + From Halkerside, from topmost Allermuir, + Or steep Caerketton, dreaming gaze again. + Far set in fields and woods, the town I see + Spring gallant from the shallows of her smoke, + Cragged, spired, and turreted, her virgin fort + Beflagged. About, on seaward-drooping hills, + New folds of city glitter. Last, the Forth + Wheels ample waters set with sacred isles, + And populous Fife smokes with a score of towns. + + There, on the sunny frontage of a hill, + Hard by the house of kings, repose the dead, + My dead, the ready and the strong of word. + Their works, the salt-encrusted, still survive; + The sea bombards their founded towers; the night + Thrills pierced with their strong lamps. The artificers, + One after one, here in this grated cell, + Where the rain erases, and the rust consumes, + Fell upon lasting silence. Continents + And continental oceans intervene; + A sea uncharted, on a lampless isle, + Environs and confines their wandering child + In vain. The voice of generations dead + Summons me, sitting distant, to arise, + My numerous footsteps nimbly to retrace, + And, all mutation over, stretch me down + In that denoted city of the dead. + +_Apemama_. + + + + +XXXVI—TO S. C. + + + I heard the pulse of the besieging sea + Throb far away all night. I heard the wind + Fly crying and convulse tumultuous palms. + I rose and strolled. The isle was all bright sand, + And flailing fans and shadows of the palm; + The heaven all moon and wind and the blind vault; + The keenest planet slain, for Venus slept. + The king, my neighbour, with his host of wives, + Slept in the precinct of the palisade; + Where single, in the wind, under the moon, + Among the slumbering cabins, blazed a fire, + Sole street-lamp and the only sentinel. + To other lands and nights my fancy turned— + To London first, and chiefly to your house, + The many-pillared and the well-beloved. + There yearning fancy lighted; there again + In the upper room I lay, and heard far off + The unsleeping city murmur like a shell; + The muffled tramp of the Museum guard + Once more went by me; I beheld again + Lamps vainly brighten the dispeopled street; + Again I longed for the returning morn, + The awaking traffic, the bestirring birds, + The consentaneous trill of tiny song + That weaves round monumental cornices + A passing charm of beauty. Most of all, + For your light foot I wearied, and your knock + That was the glad réveillé of my day. + Lo, now, when to your task in the great house + At morning through the portico you pass, + One moment glance, where by the pillared wall + Far-voyaging island gods, begrimed with smoke, + Sit now unworshipped, the rude monument + Of faiths forgot and races undivined: + Sit now disconsolate, remembering well + The priest, the victim, and the songful crowd, + The blaze of the blue noon, and that huge voice, + Incessant, of the breakers on the shore. + As far as these from their ancestral shrine, + So far, so foreign, your divided friends + Wander, estranged in body, not in mind. + +_Apemama_. + + + + +XXXVII—THE HOUSE OF TEMBINOKA + + +[At my departure from the island of Apemama, for which you will look in +vain in most atlases, the King and I agreed, since we both set up to be +in the poetical way, that we should celebrate our separation in verse. +Whether or not his Majesty has been true to his bargain, the laggard +posts of the Pacific may perhaps inform me in six months, perhaps not +before a year. The following lines represent my part of the contract, +and it is hoped, by their pictures of strange manners, they may entertain +a civilised audience. Nothing throughout has been invented or +exaggerated; the lady herein referred to as the author’s muse has +confined herself to stringing into rhyme facts or legends that I saw or +heard during two months’ residence upon the island.—R. L. S.] + + _ENVOI_ + + _Let us_, _who part like brothers_, _part like bards_; + _And you in your tongue and measure_, _I in mine_, + _Our now division duly solemnise_. + _Unlike the strains_, _and yet the theme is one_: + _The strains unlike_, _and how unlike their fate_! + _You to the blinding palace-yard shall call_ + _The prefect of the singers_, _and to him_, + _Listening devout_, _your valedictory verse_ + _Deliver_; _he_, _his attribute fulfilled_, + _To the island chorus hand your measures on_, + _Wed now with harmony_: _so them_, _at last_, + _Night after night_, _in the open hall of dance_, + _Shall thirty matted men_, _to the clapped hand_, + _Intone and bray and bark_. _Unfortunate_! + _Paper and print alone shall honour mine_. + + THE SONG + + Let now the King his ear arouse + And toss the bosky ringlets from his brows, + The while, our bond to implement, + My muse relates and praises his descent. + + I + + Bride of the shark, her valour first I sing + Who on the lone seas quickened of a King. + She, from the shore and puny homes of men, + Beyond the climber’s sea-discerning ken, + Swam, led by omens; and devoid of fear, + Beheld her monstrous paramour draw near. + She gazed; all round her to the heavenly pale, + The simple sea was void of isle or sail— + Sole overhead the unsparing sun was reared— + When the deep bubbled and the brute appeared. + But she, secure in the decrees of fate, + Made strong her bosom and received the mate, + And, men declare, from that marine embrace + Conceived the virtues of a stronger race. + + II + + Her stern descendant next I praise, + Survivor of a thousand frays:— + In the hall of tongues who ruled the throng; + Led and was trusted by the strong; + And when spears were in the wood, + Like a tower of vantage stood:— + Whom, not till seventy years had sped, + Unscarred of breast, erect of head, + Still light of step, still bright of look, + The hunter, Death, had overtook. + + III + + His sons, the brothers twain, I sing, + Of whom the elder reigned a King. + No Childeric he, yet much declined + From his rude sire’s imperious mind, + Until his day came when he died, + He lived, he reigned, he versified. + But chiefly him I celebrate + That was the pillar of the state, + Ruled, wise of word and bold of mien, + The peaceful and the warlike scene; + And played alike the leader’s part + In lawful and unlawful art. + His soldiers with emboldened ears + Heard him laugh among the spears. + He could deduce from age to age + The web of island parentage; + Best lay the rhyme, best lead the dance, + For any festal circumstance: + And fitly fashion oar and boat, + A palace or an armour coat. + None more availed than he to raise + The strong, suffumigating blaze, + Or knot the wizard leaf: none more, + Upon the untrodden windward shore + Of the isle, beside the beating main, + To cure the sickly and constrain, + With muttered words and waving rods, + The gibbering and the whistling gods. + But he, though thus with hand and head + He ruled, commanded, charmed, and led, + And thus in virtue and in might + Towered to contemporary sight— + Still in fraternal faith and love, + Remained below to reach above, + Gave and obeyed the apt command, + Pilot and vassal of the land. + + IV + + My Tembinok’ from men like these + Inherited his palaces, + His right to rule, his powers of mind, + His cocoa-islands sea-enshrined. + Stern bearer of the sword and whip, + A master passed in mastership, + He learned, without the spur of need, + To write, to cipher, and to read; + From all that touch on his prone shore + Augments his treasury of lore, + Eager in age as erst in youth + To catch an art, to learn a truth, + To paint on the internal page + A clearer picture of the age. + His age, you say? But ah, not so! + In his lone isle of long ago, + A royal Lady of Shalott, + Sea-sundered, he beholds it not; + He only hears it far away. + The stress of equatorial day + He suffers; he records the while + The vapid annals of the isle; + Slaves bring him praise of his renown, + Or cackle of the palm-tree town; + The rarer ship and the rare boat + He marks; and only hears remote, + Where thrones and fortunes rise and reel, + The thunder of the turning wheel. + + V + + For the unexpected tears he shed + At my departing, may his lion head + Not whiten, his revolving years + No fresh occasion minister of tears; + At book or cards, at work or sport, + Him may the breeze across the palace court + For ever fan; and swelling near + For ever the loud song divert his ear. + +_Schooner_ ‘_Equator_,’ _at Sea_. + + + + +XXXVIII—THE WOODMAN + + + In all the grove, nor stream nor bird + Nor aught beside my blows was heard, + And the woods wore their noonday dress— + The glory of their silentness. + From the island summit to the seas, + Trees mounted, and trees drooped, and trees + Groped upward in the gaps. The green + Inarboured talus and ravine + By fathoms. By the multitude + The rugged columns of the wood + And bunches of the branches stood; + Thick as a mob, deep as a sea, + And silent as eternity. + With lowered axe, with backward head, + Late from this scene my labourer fled, + And with a ravelled tale to tell, + Returned. Some denizen of hell, + Dead man or disinvested god, + Had close behind him peered and trod, + And triumphed when he turned to flee. + How different fell the lines with me! + Whose eye explored the dim arcade + Impatient of the uncoming shade— + Shy elf, or dryad pale and cold, + Or mystic lingerer from of old: + Vainly. The fair and stately things, + Impassive as departed kings, + All still in the wood’s stillness stood, + And dumb. The rooted multitude + Nodded and brooded, bloomed and dreamed, + Unmeaning, undivined. It seemed + No other art, no hope, they knew, + Than clutch the earth and seek the blue. + ’Mid vegetable king and priest + And stripling, I (the only beast) + Was at the beast’s work, killing; hewed + The stubborn roots across, bestrewed + The glebe with the dislustred leaves, + And bade the saplings fall in sheaves; + Bursting across the tangled math + A ruin that I called a path, + A Golgotha that, later on, + When rains had watered, and suns shone, + And seeds enriched the place, should bear + And be called garden. Here and there, + I spied and plucked by the green hair + A foe more resolute to live, + The toothed and killing sensitive. + He, semi-conscious, fled the attack; + He shrank and tucked his branches back; + And straining by his anchor-strand, + Captured and scratched the rooting hand. + I saw him crouch, I felt him bite; + And straight my eyes were touched with sight. + I saw the wood for what it was: + The lost and the victorious cause, + The deadly battle pitched in line, + Saw silent weapons cross and shine: + Silent defeat, silent assault, + A battle and a burial vault. + + Thick round me in the teeming mud + Brier and fern strove to the blood: + The hooked liana in his gin + Noosed his reluctant neighbours in: + There the green murderer throve and spread, + Upon his smothering victims fed, + And wantoned on his climbing coil. + Contending roots fought for the soil + Like frightened demons: with despair + Competing branches pushed for air. + Green conquerors from overhead + Bestrode the bodies of their dead: + The Caesars of the sylvan field, + Unused to fail, foredoomed to yield: + For in the groins of branches, lo! + The cancers of the orchid grow. + Silent as in the listed ring + Two chartered wrestlers strain and cling; + Dumb as by yellow Hooghly’s side + The suffocating captives died; + So hushed the woodland warfare goes + Unceasing; and the silent foes + Grapple and smother, strain and clasp + Without a cry, without a gasp. + Here also sound thy fans, O God, + Here too thy banners move abroad: + Forest and city, sea and shore, + And the whole earth, thy threshing-floor! + The drums of war, the drums of peace, + Roll through our cities without cease, + And all the iron halls of life + Ring with the unremitting strife. + + The common lot we scarce perceive. + Crowds perish, we nor mark nor grieve: + The bugle calls—we mourn a few! + What corporal’s guard at Waterloo? + What scanty hundreds more or less + In the man-devouring Wilderness? + What handful bled on Delhi ridge? + —See, rather, London, on thy bridge + The pale battalions trample by, + Resolved to slay, resigned to die. + Count, rather, all the maimed and dead + In the unbrotherly war of bread. + See, rather, under sultrier skies + What vegetable Londons rise, + And teem, and suffer without sound: + Or in your tranquil garden ground, + Contented, in the falling gloom, + Saunter and see the roses bloom. + That these might live, what thousands died! + All day the cruel hoe was plied; + The ambulance barrow rolled all day; + Your wife, the tender, kind, and gay, + Donned her long gauntlets, caught the spud, + And bathed in vegetable blood; + And the long massacre now at end, + See! where the lazy coils ascend, + See, where the bonfire sputters red + At even, for the innocent dead. + + Why prate of peace? when, warriors all, + We clank in harness into hall, + And ever bare upon the board + Lies the necessary sword. + In the green field or quiet street, + Besieged we sleep, beleaguered eat; + Labour by day and wake o’ nights, + In war with rival appetites. + The rose on roses feeds; the lark + On larks. The sedentary clerk + All morning with a diligent pen + Murders the babes of other men; + And like the beasts of wood and park, + Protects his whelps, defends his den. + + Unshamed the narrow aim I hold; + I feed my sheep, patrol my fold; + Breathe war on wolves and rival flocks, + A pious outlaw on the rocks + Of God and morning; and when time + Shall bow, or rivals break me, climb + Where no undubbed civilian dares, + In my war harness, the loud stairs + Of honour; and my conqueror + Hail me a warrior fallen in war. + +_Vailima_. + + + + +XXXIX—TROPIC RAIN + + + As the single pang of the blow, when the metal is mingled well, + Rings and lives and resounds in all the bounds of the bell, + So the thunder above spoke with a single tongue, + So in the heart of the mountain the sound of it rumbled and clung. + + Sudden the thunder was drowned—quenched was the levin light— + And the angel-spirit of rain laughed out loud in the night. + Loud as the maddened river raves in the cloven glen, + Angel of rain! you laughed and leaped on the roofs of men; + + And the sleepers sprang in their beds, and joyed and feared as you + fell. + You struck, and my cabin quailed; the roof of it roared like a bell. + You spoke, and at once the mountain shouted and shook with brooks. + You ceased, and the day returned, rosy, with virgin looks. + + And methought that beauty and terror are only one, not two; + And the world has room for love, and death, and thunder, and dew; + And all the sinews of hell slumber in summer air; + And the face of God is a rock, but the face of the rock is fair. + Beneficent streams of tears flow at the finger of pain; + And out of the cloud that smites, beneficent rivers of rain. + +_Vailima_. + + + + +XL—AN END OF TRAVEL + + + Let now your soul in this substantial world + Some anchor strike. Be here the body moored;— + This spectacle immutably from now + The picture in your eye; and when time strikes, + And the green scene goes on the instant blind— + The ultimate helpers, where your horse to-day + Conveyed you dreaming, bear your body dead. + +_Vailima_. + + + + +XLI + + + We uncommiserate pass into the night + From the loud banquet, and departing leave + A tremor in men’s memories, faint and sweet + And frail as music. Features of our face, + The tones of the voice, the touch of the loved hand, + Perish and vanish, one by one, from earth: + Meanwhile, in the hall of song, the multitude + Applauds the new performer. One, perchance, + One ultimate survivor lingers on, + And smiles, and to his ancient heart recalls + The long forgotten. Ere the morrow die, + He too, returning, through the curtain comes, + And the new age forgets us and goes on. + + + + +XLII + + + Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, + Say, could that lad be I? + Merry of soul he sailed on a day + Over the sea to Skye. + + Mull was astern, Rum on the port, + Eigg on the starboard bow; + Glory of youth glowed in his soul: + Where is that glory now? + + Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, + Say, could that lad be I? + Merry of soul he sailed on a day + Over the sea to Skye. + + Give me again all that was there, + Give me the sun that shone! + Give me the eyes, give me the soul, + Give me the lad that’s gone! + + Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, + Say, could that lad be I? + Merry of soul he sailed on a day + Over the sea to Skye. + + Billow and breeze, islands and seas, + Mountains of rain and sun, + All that was good, all that was fair, + All that was me is gone. + + + + +XLIII—TO S. R. CROCKETT +(_On receiving a Dedication_) + + + Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying, + Blows the wind on the moors to-day and now, + Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are crying, + My heart remembers how! + + Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert places, + Standing stones on the vacant wine-red moor, + Hills of sheep, and the howes of the silent vanished races, + And winds, austere and pure: + + Be it granted me to behold you again in dying, + Hills of home! and to hear again the call; + Hear about the graves of the martyrs the peewees crying, + And hear no more at all. + +_Vailima_. + + + + +XLIV—EVENSONG + + + The embers of the day are red + Beyond the murky hill. + The kitchen smokes: the bed + In the darkling house is spread: + The great sky darkens overhead, + And the great woods are shrill. + So far have I been led, + Lord, by Thy will: + So far I have followed, Lord, and wondered still. + + The breeze from the enbalmèd land + Blows sudden toward the shore, + And claps my cottage door. + I hear the signal, Lord—I understand. + The night at Thy command + Comes. I will eat and sleep and will not question more. + +_Vailima_. + + + + +Footnotes + + +{44} This is the same Princess Moë whose charms of person and +disposition have been recorded by the late Lord Pembroke in _South Sea +Bubbles_, and by M. Pierre Loti in the _Mariage de Loti_. + +{45} The yacht _Casco_ had been so called by the people of Fakarava in +the Paumotus. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF TRAVEL*** + + +******* This file should be named 487-0.txt or 487-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/8/487 + + + +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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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: Songs of Travel + and other verses + + +Author: Robert Louis Stevenson + +Editor: Sidney Colvin + +Release Date: October 27, 2009 [eBook #487] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF TRAVEL*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1908 Chatto & Windus edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>Songs of Travel</h1> +<p style="text-align: center">AND OTHER VERSES</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p0.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Chatto & Windus logo" +title= +"Chatto & Windus logo" +src="images/p0.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">eighth +impression</span></p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">LONDON<br /> +CHATTO & WINDUS<br /> +1908</p> +<p><i>The following collection of verses</i>, <i>written at +various times and places</i>, <i>principally after the +author’s final departure from England in</i> 1887, <i>was +sent home by him for publication some months before his +death</i>. <i>He had tried them in several different orders +and under several different titles</i>, <i>as</i> “<i>Songs +and Notes of Travel</i>,” “<i>Posthumous +Poems</i>,” <i>etc.</i>, <i>and in the end left their +naming and arrangement to the present editor</i>, <i>with the +suggestion that they should be added as Book III. to future +editions of</i> “<i>Underwoods</i>.” <i>This +suggestion it is proposed to carry out</i>; <i>but in the +meantime</i>, <i>for the benefit of those who possess</i> +“<i>Underwoods</i>” <i>in its original form</i>, +<i>it has been thought desirable to publish them separately in +the present volume</i>. <i>They have already been included +in the Edinburgh Edition of the author’s works</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>S. C.</i></p> +<p style="text-align: center">CONTENTS</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">i.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Vagabond</span>—Give to me +the life I love</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">ii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Youth and Love</span>: <span +class="smcap">i.</span>—Once only by the garden gate</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">iii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Youth and Love</span>: <span +class="smcap">ii.</span>—To the heart of youth the world is +a highwayside</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">iv.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>In dreams, unhappy, I behold you stand</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">v.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>She rested by the Broken Brook</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">vi.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>The infinite shining heavens</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">vii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>Plain as the glistering planets shine</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">viii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>To you, let snows and roses</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">ix.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">x.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>I know not how it is with you</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xi.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>I will make you brooches and toys for your delight</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">We have loved of +Yore</span>—Berried brake and reedy island</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xiii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Mater Triumphans</span>—Son of +my woman’s body, you go, to the drum and fife</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xiv.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>Bright is the ring of words</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xv.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>In the highlands, in the country places</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xvi.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>Home no more home to me, wither must I wander?</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xvii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Winter</span>—In rigorous hours, +when down the iron lane</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xviii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>The stormy evening closes now in vain</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xix.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">To Dr. Hake</span>—In the +belovèd hour that ushers day</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xx.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">To ---</span>—I knew thee strong +and quiet like the hills</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxi.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>The morning drum-call on my eager ear</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>I have trod the upward and downward slope</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxiii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>He hears with gladdened heart the thunder</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxiv.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>Farewell, fair day and fading light!</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxv.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">If this were Faith</span>—God, +if this were enough</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxvi.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">My Wife</span>—Trusty, dusky, +vivid, true</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxvii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">To the Muse</span>—Resign the +rhapsody, the dream</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxviii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">To an Island +Princess</span>—Since long ago, a child at home</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxix.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">To Kalakaua</span>—The Sliver +Ship, my King—that was her name</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxx.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">To Princess +Kaiulani</span>—Forth form her land to mine she goes</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxxi.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">To Mother Maryanne</span>—To see +the infinite pity of this place</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxxii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">In Memoriam E. H.</span>—I knew +a silver head was bright beyond compare</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxxiii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">To my Wife</span>—Long must +elapse ere you behold again</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxxiv.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">To my Old Familiars</span>—Do +you remember—can we e’er forget?</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxxv.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>The tropics vanish, and meseems that I</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxxvi.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">To S. C.</span>—I heard the +pulse of the besieging sea</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxxvii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The House of +Tembinoka</span>—<i>Let us</i>, <i>who part like +brothers</i>, <i>part like bards</i></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxxviii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Woodman</span>—In all the +grove, not stream nor bird</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xxxix.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Tropic Rain</span>—As the single +pang of the blow, when the metal is mingled well</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xl.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">An End of Travel</span>—Let now +your soul in this substantial world</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xli.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>We uncommiserate pass into the night</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xlii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p>Sing me a song of a lad that is gone</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xliii.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">To S. R. Crockett</span>—Blows +the wind to-day, and the sun and rain are flying</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">xliv.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Evensong</span>—The embers of +the day are red</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2>I—THE VAGABOND<br /> +(<i>To an air of Schubert</i>)</h2> +<p class="poetry">Give to me the life I love,<br /> + Let the lave go by me,<br /> +Give the jolly heaven above<br /> + And the byway nigh me.<br /> +Bed in the bush with stars to see,<br /> + Bread I dip in the river—<br /> +There’s the life for a man like me,<br /> + There’s the life for ever.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let the blow fall soon or late,<br /> + Let what will be o’er me;<br /> +Give the face of earth around<br /> + And the road before me.<br /> +Wealth I seek not, hope nor love,<br /> + Nor a friend to know me;<br /> +All I seek, the heaven above<br /> + And the road below me.</p> +<p class="poetry">Or let autumn fall on me<br /> + Where afield I linger,<br /> +Silencing the bird on tree,<br /> + Biting the blue finger.<br /> +White as meal the frosty field—<br /> + Warm the fireside haven—<br /> +Not to autumn will I yield,<br /> + Not to winter even!</p> +<p class="poetry">Let the blow fall soon or late,<br /> + Let what will be o’er me;<br /> +Give the face of earth around,<br /> + And the road before me.<br /> +Wealth I ask not, hope nor love,<br /> + Nor a friend to know me;<br /> +All I ask, the heaven above<br /> + And the road below me.</p> +<h2>II—YOUTH AND LOVE—I</h2> +<p class="poetry">Once only by the garden gate<br /> + Our lips we joined and parted.<br /> +I must fulfil an empty fate<br /> + And travel the uncharted.</p> +<p class="poetry">Hail and farewell! I must arise,<br /> + Leave here the fatted cattle,<br /> +And paint on foreign lands and skies<br /> + My Odyssey of battle.</p> +<p class="poetry">The untented Kosmos my abode,<br /> + I pass, a wilful stranger:<br /> +My mistress still the open road<br /> + And the bright eyes of danger.</p> +<p class="poetry">Come ill or well, the cross, the crown,<br /> + The rainbow or the thunder,<br /> +I fling my soul and body down<br /> + For God to plough them under.</p> +<h2>III—YOUTH AND LOVE—II</h2> +<p class="poetry">To the heart of youth the world is a +highwayside.<br /> +Passing for ever, he fares; and on either hand,<br /> +Deep in the gardens golden pavilions hide,<br /> +Nestle in orchard bloom, and far on the level land<br /> +Call him with lighted lamp in the eventide.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thick as the stars at night when the moon is +down,<br /> +Pleasures assail him. He to his nobler fate<br /> +Fares; and but waves a hand as he passes on,<br /> +Cries but a wayside word to her at the garden gate,<br /> +Sings but a boyish stave and his face is gone.</p> +<h2>IV</h2> +<p class="poetry">In dreams, unhappy, I behold you stand<br /> + As heretofore:<br /> +The unremembered tokens in your hand<br /> + Avail no more.</p> +<p class="poetry">No more the morning glow, no more the grace,<br +/> + Enshrines, endears.<br /> +Cold beats the light of time upon your face<br /> + And shows your tears.</p> +<p class="poetry">He came and went. Perchance you wept a +while<br /> + And then forgot.<br /> +Ah me! but he that left you with a smile<br /> + Forgets you not.</p> +<h2>V</h2> +<p class="poetry">She rested by the Broken Brook,<br /> + She drank of Weary Well,<br /> +She moved beyond my lingering look,<br /> + Ah, whither none can tell!</p> +<p class="poetry">She came, she went. In other lands,<br /> + Perchance in fairer skies,<br /> +Her hands shall cling with other hands,<br /> + Her eyes to other eyes.</p> +<p class="poetry">She vanished. In the sounding town,<br /> + Will she remember too?<br /> +Will she recall the eyes of brown<br /> + As I recall the blue?</p> +<h2>VI</h2> +<p class="poetry">The infinite shining heavens<br /> + Rose and I saw in the night<br /> +Uncountable angel stars<br /> + Showering sorrow and light.</p> +<p class="poetry">I saw them distant as heaven,<br /> + Dumb and shining and dead,<br /> +And the idle stars of the night<br /> + Were dearer to me than bread.</p> +<p class="poetry">Night after night in my sorrow<br /> + The stars stood over the sea,<br /> +Till lo! I looked in the dusk<br /> + And a star had come down to me.</p> +<h2>VII</h2> +<p class="poetry">Plain as the glistering planets shine<br /> + When winds have cleaned the skies,<br /> +Her love appeared, appealed for mine,<br /> + And wantoned in her eyes.</p> +<p class="poetry">Clear as the shining tapers burned<br /> + On Cytherea’s shrine,<br /> +Those brimming, lustrous beauties turned,<br /> + And called and conquered mine.</p> +<p class="poetry">The beacon-lamp that Hero lit<br /> + No fairer shone on sea,<br /> +No plainlier summoned will and wit,<br /> + Than hers encouraged me.</p> +<p class="poetry">I thrilled to feel her influence near,<br /> + I struck my flag at sight.<br /> +Her starry silence smote my ear<br /> + Like sudden drums at night.</p> +<p class="poetry">I ran as, at the cannon’s roar,<br /> + The troops the ramparts man—<br /> +As in the holy house of yore<br /> + The willing Eli ran.</p> +<p class="poetry">Here, lady, lo! that servant stands<br /> + You picked from passing men,<br /> +And should you need nor heart nor hands<br /> + He bows and goes again.</p> +<h2>VIII</h2> +<p class="poetry">To you, let snow and roses<br /> + And golden locks belong.<br /> +These are the world’s enslavers,<br /> + Let these delight the throng.<br /> +For her of duskier lustre<br /> + Whose favour still I wear,<br /> +The snow be in her kirtle,<br /> + The rose be in her hair!</p> +<p class="poetry">The hue of highland rivers<br /> + Careering, full and cool,<br /> +From sable on to golden,<br /> + From rapid on to pool—<br /> +The hue of heather-honey,<br /> + The hue of honey-bees,<br /> +Shall tinge her golden shoulder,<br /> + Shall gild her tawny knees.</p> +<h2>IX</h2> +<p class="poetry">Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful +dreams,<br /> + Beauty awake from rest!<br /> + Let Beauty awake<br /> + For Beauty’s sake<br /> +In the hour when the birds awake in the brake<br /> + And the stars are bright in the +west!</p> +<p class="poetry">Let Beauty awake in the eve from the slumber of +day,<br /> + Awake in the crimson eve!<br /> + In the day’s dusk end<br /> + When the shades ascend,<br /> +Let her wake to the kiss of a tender friend<br /> + To render again and receive!</p> +<h2>X</h2> +<p class="poetry">I know not how it is with you—<br /> + <i>I</i> love the first and last,<br /> +The whole field of the present view,<br /> + The whole flow of the past.</p> +<p class="poetry">One tittle of the things that are,<br /> + Nor you should change nor I—<br /> +One pebble in our path—one star<br /> + In all our heaven of sky.</p> +<p class="poetry">Our lives, and every day and hour,<br /> + One symphony appear:<br /> +One road, one garden—every flower<br /> + And every bramble dear.</p> +<h2>XI</h2> +<p class="poetry">I will make you brooches and toys for your +delight<br /> +Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night.<br /> +I will make a palace fit for you and me<br /> +Of green days in forests and blue days at sea.</p> +<p class="poetry">I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your +room,<br /> +Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom,<br /> +And you shall wash your linen and keep your body white<br /> +In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night.</p> +<p class="poetry">And this shall be for music when no one else is +near,<br /> +The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear!<br /> +That only I remember, that only you admire,<br /> +Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire.</p> +<h2>XII—WE HAVE LOVED OF YORE<br /> +(<i>To an air of Diabelli</i>)</h2> +<p class="poetry">Berried brake and reedy island,<br /> + Heaven below, and only heaven above,<br /> +Through the sky’s inverted azure<br /> + Softly swam the boat that bore our love.<br /> + Bright were your eyes as the +day;<br /> + Bright ran the stream,<br /> + Bright hung the sky above.<br /> +Days of April, airs of Eden,<br /> + How the glory died through golden hours,<br /> +And the shining moon arising,<br /> + How the boat drew homeward filled with flowers!<br +/> + Bright were your eyes in the +night:<br /> + We have lived, my love—<br +/> + O, we have loved, my love.</p> +<p class="poetry">Frost has bound our flowing river,<br /> + Snow has whitened all our island brake,<br /> +And beside the winter fagot<br /> + Joan and Darby doze and dream and wake.<br /> + Still, in the river of dreams<br +/> + Swims the boat of love—<br +/> + Hark! chimes the falling oar!<br +/> +And again in winter evens<br /> + When on firelight dreaming fancy feeds,<br /> +In those ears of agèd lovers<br /> + Love’s own river warbles in the reeds.<br /> + Love still the past, O my love!<br +/> + We have lived of yore,<br /> + O, we have loved of yore.</p> +<h2>XIII—MATER TRIUMPHANS</h2> +<p class="poetry">Son of my woman’s body, you go, to the +drum and fife,<br /> +To taste the colour of love and the other side of life—<br +/> +From out of the dainty the rude, the strong from out of the +frail,<br /> +Eternally through the ages from the female comes the male.</p> +<p class="poetry">The ten fingers and toes, and the shell-like +nail on each,<br /> +The eyes blind as gems and the tongue attempting speech;<br /> +Impotent hands in my bosom, and yet they shall wield the +sword!<br /> +Drugged with slumber and milk, you wait the day of the Lord.</p> +<p class="poetry">Infant bridegroom, uncrowned king, unanointed +priest,<br /> +Soldier, lover, explorer, I see you nuzzle the breast.<br /> +You that grope in my bosom shall load the ladies with rings,<br +/> +You, that came forth through the doors, shall burst the doors of +kings.</p> +<h2>XIV</h2> +<p class="poetry">Bright is the ring of words<br /> + When the right man rings them,<br /> +Fair the fall of songs<br /> + When the singer sings them.<br /> +Still they are carolled and said—<br /> + On wings they are carried—<br /> +After the singer is dead<br /> + And the maker buried.</p> +<p class="poetry">Low as the singer lies<br /> + In the field of heather,<br /> +Songs of his fashion bring<br /> + The swains together.<br /> +And when the west is red<br /> + With the sunset embers,<br /> +The lover lingers and sings<br /> + And the maid remembers.</p> +<h2>XV</h2> +<p class="poetry">In the highlands, in the country places,<br /> +Where the old plain men have rosy faces,<br /> +And the young fair maidens<br /> +Quiet eyes;<br /> +Where essential silence cheers and blesses,<br /> +And for ever in the hill-recesses<br /> +<i>Her</i> more lovely music<br /> +Broods and dies.</p> +<p class="poetry">O to mount again where erst I haunted;<br /> +Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted,<br /> +And the low green meadows<br /> +Bright with sward;<br /> +And when even dies, the million-tinted,<br /> +And the night has come, and planets glinted,<br /> +Lo, the valley hollow<br /> +Lamp-bestarred!</p> +<p class="poetry">O to dream, O to awake and wander<br /> +There, and with delight to take and render,<br /> +Through the trance of silence,<br /> +Quiet breath;<br /> +Lo! for there, among the flowers and grasses,<br /> +Only the mightier movement sounds and passes;<br /> +Only winds and rivers,<br /> +Life and death.</p> +<h2>XVI<br /> +(<i>To the tune of Wandering Willie</i>)</h2> +<p class="poetry">Home no more home to me, whither must I +wander?<br /> + Hunger my driver, I go where I must.<br /> +Cold blows the winter wind over hill and heather;<br /> + Thick drives the rain, and my roof is in the +dust.<br /> +Loved of wise men was the shade of my roof-tree.<br /> + The true word of welcome was spoken in the +door—<br /> +Dear days of old, with the faces in the firelight,<br /> + Kind folks of old, you come again no more.</p> +<p class="poetry">Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly +faces,<br /> + Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child.<br +/> +Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland;<br /> + Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild.<br +/> +Now, when day dawns on the brow of the moorland,<br /> + Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is +cold.<br /> +Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed,<br /> + The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the +place of old.</p> +<p class="poetry">Spring shall come, come again, calling up the +moorfowl,<br /> + Spring shall bring the sun and rain, bring the bees +and flowers;<br /> +Red shall the heather bloom over hill and valley,<br /> + Soft flow the stream through the even-flowing +hours;<br /> +Fair the day shine as it shone on my childhood—<br /> + Fair shine the day on the house with open door;<br +/> +Birds come and cry there and twitter in the chimney—<br /> + But I go for ever and come again no more.</p> +<h2>XVII—WINTER</h2> +<p class="poetry">In rigorous hours, when down the iron lane<br +/> +The redbreast looks in vain<br /> +For hips and haws,<br /> +Lo, shining flowers upon my window-pane<br /> +The silver pencil of the winter draws.</p> +<p class="poetry">When all the snowy hill<br /> +And the bare woods are still;<br /> +When snipes are silent in the frozen bogs,<br /> +And all the garden garth is whelmed in mire,<br /> +Lo, by the hearth, the laughter of the logs—<br /> +More fair than roses, lo, the flowers of fire!</p> +<p><i>Saranac Lake</i>.</p> +<h2>XVIII</h2> +<p class="poetry">The stormy evening closes now in vain,<br /> +Loud wails the wind and beats the driving rain,<br /> + While here in sheltered house<br +/> + With fire-ypainted walls,<br /> + I hear the wind abroad,<br /> + I hark the calling +squalls—<br /> +‘Blow, blow,’ I cry, ‘you burst your cheeks in +vain!<br /> +Blow, blow,’ I cry, ‘my love is home +again!’</p> +<p class="poetry">Yon ship you chase perchance but yesternight<br +/> +Bore still the precious freight of my delight,<br /> + That here in sheltered house<br /> + With fire-ypainted walls,<br /> + Now hears the wind abroad,<br /> + Now harks the calling squalls.<br +/> +‘Blow, blow,’ I cry, ‘in vain you rouse the +sea,<br /> +My rescued sailor shares the fire with me!’</p> +<h2>XIX—TO DR. HAKE<br /> +(<i>On receiving a Copy of Verses</i>)</h2> +<p class="poetry">In the belovèd hour that ushers day,<br +/> +In the pure dew, under the breaking grey,<br /> +One bird, ere yet the woodland quires awake,<br /> +With brief réveillé summons all the brake:<br /> +<i>Chirp</i>, <i>chirp</i>, it goes; nor waits an answer long;<br +/> +And that small signal fills the grove with song.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thus on my pipe I breathed a strain or two;<br +/> +It scarce was music, but ’twas all I knew.<br /> +It was not music, for I lacked the art,<br /> +Yet what but frozen music filled my heart?</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Chirp</i>, <i>chirp</i>, I went, nor hoped a +nobler strain;<br /> +But Heaven decreed I should not pipe in vain,<br /> +For, lo! not far from there, in secret dale,<br /> +All silent, sat an ancient nightingale.<br /> +My sparrow notes he heard; thereat awoke;<br /> +And with a tide of song his silence broke.</p> +<h2>XX—TO ---</h2> +<p class="poetry">I knew thee strong and quiet like the hills;<br +/> +I knew thee apt to pity, brave to endure,<br /> +In peace or war a Roman full equipt;<br /> +And just I knew thee, like the fabled kings<br /> +Who by the loud sea-shore gave judgment forth,<br /> +From dawn to eve, bearded and few of words.<br /> +What, what, was I to honour thee? A child;<br /> +A youth in ardour but a child in strength,<br /> +Who after virtue’s golden chariot-wheels<br /> +Runs ever panting, nor attains the goal.<br /> +So thought I, and was sorrowful at heart.</p> +<p class="poetry">Since then my steps have visited that flood<br +/> +Along whose shore the numerous footfalls cease,<br /> +The voices and the tears of life expire.<br /> +Thither the prints go down, the hero’s way<br /> +Trod large upon the sand, the trembling maid’s:<br /> +Nimrod that wound his trumpet in the wood,<br /> +And the poor, dreaming child, hunter of flowers,<br /> +That here his hunting closes with the great:<br /> +So one and all go down, nor aught returns.</p> +<p class="poetry">For thee, for us, the sacred river waits,<br /> +For me, the unworthy, thee, the perfect friend;<br /> +There Blame desists, there his unfaltering dogs<br /> +He from the chase recalls, and homeward rides;<br /> +Yet Praise and Love pass over and go in.<br /> +So when, beside that margin, I discard<br /> +My more than mortal weakness, and with thee<br /> +Through that still land unfearing I advance:<br /> +If then at all we keep the touch of joy<br /> +Thou shalt rejoice to find me altered—I,<br /> +O Felix, to behold thee still unchanged.</p> +<h2>XXI</h2> +<p class="poetry">The morning drum-call on my eager ear<br /> +Thrills unforgotten yet; the morning dew<br /> +Lies yet undried along my field of noon.</p> +<p class="poetry">But now I pause at whiles in what I do,<br /> +And count the bell, and tremble lest I hear<br /> +(My work untrimmed) the sunset gun too soon.</p> +<h2>XXII</h2> +<p class="poetry">I have trod the upward and the downward +slope;<br /> +I have endured and done in days before;<br /> +I have longed for all, and bid farewell to hope;<br /> +And I have lived and loved, and closed the door.</p> +<h2>XXIII</h2> +<p class="poetry">He hears with gladdened heart the thunder<br /> + Peal, and loves the falling dew;<br /> +He knows the earth above and under—<br /> + Sits and is content to view.</p> +<p class="poetry">He sits beside the dying ember,<br /> + God for hope and man for friend,<br /> +Content to see, glad to remember,<br /> + Expectant of the certain end.</p> +<h2>XXIV</h2> +<p class="poetry">Farewell, fair day and fading light!<br /> +The clay-born here, with westward sight,<br /> +Marks the huge sun now downward soar.<br /> +Farewell. We twain shall meet no more.</p> +<p class="poetry">Farewell. I watch with bursting sigh<br +/> +My late contemned occasion die.<br /> +I linger useless in my tent:<br /> +Farewell, fair day, so foully spent!</p> +<p class="poetry">Farewell, fair day. If any God<br /> +At all consider this poor clod,<br /> +He who the fair occasion sent<br /> +Prepared and placed the impediment.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let him diviner vengeance take—<br /> +Give me to sleep, give me to wake<br /> +Girded and shod, and bid me play<br /> +The hero in the coming day!</p> +<h2>XXV—IF THIS WERE FAITH</h2> +<p class="poetry">God, if this were enough,<br /> +That I see things bare to the buff<br /> +And up to the buttocks in mire;<br /> +That I ask nor hope nor hire,<br /> +Nut in the husk,<br /> +Nor dawn beyond the dusk,<br /> +Nor life beyond death:<br /> +God, if this were faith?</p> +<p class="poetry">Having felt thy wind in my face<br /> +Spit sorrow and disgrace,<br /> +Having seen thine evil doom<br /> +In Golgotha and Khartoum,<br /> +And the brutes, the work of thine hands,<br /> +Fill with injustice lands<br /> +And stain with blood the sea:<br /> +If still in my veins the glee<br /> +Of the black night and the sun<br /> +And the lost battle, run:<br /> +If, an adept,<br /> +The iniquitous lists I still accept<br /> +With joy, and joy to endure and be withstood,<br /> +And still to battle and perish for a dream of good:<br /> +God, if that were enough?</p> +<p class="poetry">If to feel, in the ink of the slough,<br /> +And the sink of the mire,<br /> +Veins of glory and fire<br /> +Run through and transpierce and transpire,<br /> +And a secret purpose of glory in every part,<br /> +And the answering glory of battle fill my heart;<br /> +To thrill with the joy of girded men<br /> +To go on for ever and fail and go on again,<br /> +And be mauled to the earth and arise,<br /> +And contend for the shade of a word and a thing not seen with the +eyes:<br /> +With the half of a broken hope for a pillow at night<br /> +That somehow the right is the right<br /> +And the smooth shall bloom from the rough:<br /> +Lord, if that were enough?</p> +<h2>XXVI—MY WIFE</h2> +<p class="poetry">Trusty, dusky, vivid, true,<br /> +With eyes of gold and bramble-dew,<br /> +Steel-true and blade-straight,<br /> +The great artificer<br /> +Made my mate.</p> +<p class="poetry">Honour, anger, valour, fire;<br /> +A love that life could never tire,<br /> +Death quench or evil stir,<br /> +The mighty master<br /> +Gave to her.</p> +<p class="poetry">Teacher, tender, comrade, wife,<br /> +A fellow-farer true through life,<br /> +Heart-whole and soul-free<br /> +The august father<br /> +Gave to me.</p> +<h2>XXVII—TO THE MUSE</h2> +<p class="poetry">Resign the rhapsody, the dream,<br /> + To men of larger reach;<br /> +Be ours the quest of a plain theme,<br /> + The piety of speech.</p> +<p class="poetry">As monkish scribes from morning break<br /> + Toiled till the close of light,<br /> +Nor thought a day too long to make<br /> + One line or letter bright:</p> +<p class="poetry">We also with an ardent mind,<br /> + Time, wealth, and fame forgot,<br /> +Our glory in our patience find<br /> + And skim, and skim the pot:</p> +<p class="poetry">Till last, when round the house we hear<br /> + The evensong of birds,<br /> +One corner of blue heaven appear<br /> + In our clear well of words.</p> +<p class="poetry">Leave, leave it then, muse of my heart!<br /> + Sans finish and sans frame,<br /> +Leave unadorned by needless art<br /> + The picture as it came.</p> +<h2>XXVIII—TO AN ISLAND PRINCESS</h2> +<p class="poetry">Since long ago, a child at home,<br /> +I read and longed to rise and roam,<br /> +Where’er I went, whate’er I willed,<br /> +One promised land my fancy filled.<br /> +Hence the long roads my home I made;<br /> +Tossed much in ships; have often laid<br /> +Below the uncurtained sky my head,<br /> +Rain-deluged and wind-buffeted:<br /> +And many a thousand hills I crossed<br /> +And corners turned—Love’s labour lost,<br /> +Till, Lady, to your isle of sun<br /> +I came, not hoping; and, like one<br /> +Snatched out of blindness, rubbed my eyes,<br /> +And hailed my promised land with cries.</p> +<p class="poetry">Yes, Lady, here I was at last;<br /> +Here found I all I had forecast:<br /> +The long roll of the sapphire sea<br /> +That keeps the land’s virginity;<br /> +The stalwart giants of the wood<br /> +Laden with toys and flowers and food;<br /> +The precious forest pouring out<br /> +To compass the whole town about;<br /> +The town itself with streets of lawn,<br /> +Loved of the moon, blessed by the dawn,<br /> +Where the brown children all the day<br /> +Keep up a ceaseless noise of play,<br /> +Play in the sun, play in the rain,<br /> +Nor ever quarrel or complain;—<br /> +And late at night, in the woods of fruit,<br /> +Hark! do you hear the passing flute?</p> +<p class="poetry">I threw one look to either hand,<br /> +And knew I was in Fairyland.<br /> +And yet one point of being so<br /> +I lacked. For, Lady (as you know),<br /> +Whoever by his might of hand,<br /> +Won entrance into Fairyland,<br /> +Found always with admiring eyes<br /> +A Fairy princess kind and wise.<br /> +It was not long I waited; soon<br /> +Upon my threshold, in broad noon,<br /> +Gracious and helpful, wise and good,<br /> +The Fairy Princess Moë stood. <a name="citation44"></a><a +href="#footnote44" class="citation">[44]</a></p> +<p><i>Tantira</i>, <i>Tahiti</i>, <i>Nov.</i> 5, 1888.</p> +<h2>XXIX—TO KALAKAUA<br /> +(<i>With a present of a Pearl</i>)</h2> +<p class="poetry">The Silver Ship, my King—that was her +name<br /> +In the bright islands whence your fathers came <a +name="citation45"></a><a href="#footnote45" +class="citation">[45]</a>—<br /> +The Silver Ship, at rest from winds and tides,<br /> +Below your palace in your harbour rides:<br /> +And the seafarers, sitting safe on shore,<br /> +Like eager merchants count their treasures o’er.<br /> +One gift they find, one strange and lovely thing,<br /> +Now doubly precious since it pleased a king.</p> +<p class="poetry">The right, my liege, is ancient as the lyre<br +/> +For bards to give to kings what kings admire.<br /> +’Tis mine to offer for Apollo’s sake;<br /> +And since the gift is fitting, yours to take.<br /> +To golden hands the golden pearl I bring:<br /> +The ocean jewel to the island king.</p> +<p><i>Honolulu</i>, <i>Feb.</i> 3, 1889.</p> +<h2>XXX—TO PRINCESS KAIULANI</h2> +<p>[Written in April to Kaiulani in the April of her age; and at +Waikiki, within easy walk of Kaiulani’s banyan! When +she comes to my land and her father’s, and the rain beats +upon the window (as I fear it will), let her look at this page; +it will be like a weed gathered and pressed at home; and she will +remember her own islands, and the shadow of the mighty tree; and +she will hear the peacocks screaming in the dusk and the wind +blowing in the palms; and she will think of her father sitting +there alone.—R. L. S.]</p> +<p class="poetry">Forth from her land to mine she goes,<br /> +The island maid, the island rose,<br /> +Light of heart and bright of face:<br /> +The daughter of a double race.</p> +<p class="poetry">Her islands here, in Southern sun,<br /> +Shall mourn their Kaiulani gone,<br /> +And I, in her dear banyan shade,<br /> +Look vainly for my little maid.</p> +<p class="poetry">But our Scots islands far away<br /> +Shall glitter with unwonted day,<br /> +And cast for once their tempests by<br /> +To smile in Kaiulani’s eye.</p> +<p><i>Honolulu</i>.</p> +<h2>XXXI—TO MOTHER MARYANNE</h2> +<p class="poetry">To see the infinite pity of this place,<br /> +The mangled limb, the devastated face,<br /> +The innocent sufferer smiling at the rod—<br /> +A fool were tempted to deny his God.<br /> +He sees, he shrinks. But if he gaze again,<br /> +Lo, beauty springing from the breast of pain!<br /> +He marks the sisters on the mournful shores;<br /> +And even a fool is silent and adores.</p> +<p><i>Guest House</i>, <i>Kalawao</i>, <i>Molokai</i>.</p> +<h2>XXXII—IN MEMORIAM E. H.</h2> +<p class="poetry">I knew a silver head was bright beyond +compare,<br /> +I knew a queen of toil with a crown of silver hair.<br /> +Garland of valour and sorrow, of beauty and renown,<br /> +Life, that honours the brave, crowned her himself with the +crown.</p> +<p class="poetry">The beauties of youth are frail, but this was a +jewel of age.<br /> +Life, that delights in the brave, gave it himself for a gage.<br +/> +Fair was the crown to behold, and beauty its poorest +part—<br /> +At once the scar of the wound and the order pinned on the +heart.</p> +<p class="poetry">The beauties of man are frail, and the silver +lies in the dust,<br /> +And the queen that we call to mind sleeps with the brave and the +just;<br /> +Sleeps with the weary at length; but, honoured and ever fair,<br +/> +Shines in the eye of the mind the crown of the silver hair.</p> +<p><i>Honolulu</i>.</p> +<h2>XXXIII—TO MY WIFE<br /> +(<i>A Fragment</i>)</h2> +<p class="poetry">Long must elapse ere you behold again<br /> +Green forest frame the entry of the lane—<br /> +The wild lane with the bramble and the brier,<br /> +The year-old cart-tracks perfect in the mire,<br /> +The wayside smoke, perchance, the dwarfish huts,<br /> +And ramblers’ donkey drinking from the ruts:—<br /> +Long ere you trace how deviously it leads,<br /> +Back from man’s chimneys and the bleating meads<br /> +To the woodland shadow, to the sylvan hush,<br /> +When but the brooklet chuckles in the brush—<br /> +Back from the sun and bustle of the vale<br /> +To where the great voice of the nightingale<br /> +Fills all the forest like a single room,<br /> +And all the banks smell of the golden broom;<br /> +So wander on until the eve descends.<br /> +And back returning to your firelit friends,<br /> +You see the rosy sun, despoiled of light,<br /> +Hung, caught in thickets, like a schoolboy’s kite.</p> +<p class="poetry">Here from the sea the unfruitful sun shall +rise,<br /> +Bathe the bare deck and blind the unshielded eyes;<br /> +The allotted hours aloft shall wheel in vain<br /> +And in the unpregnant ocean plunge again.<br /> +Assault of squalls that mock the watchful guard,<br /> +And pluck the bursting canvas from the yard,<br /> +And senseless clamour of the calm, at night<br /> +Must mar your slumbers. By the plunging light,<br /> +In beetle-haunted, most unwomanly bower<br /> +Of the wild-swerving cabin, hour by hour . . .</p> +<p><i>Schooner</i> ‘<i>Equator</i>.’</p> +<h2>XXXIV—TO MY OLD FAMILIARS</h2> +<p class="poetry">Do you remember—can we e’er +forget?—<br /> +How, in the coiled-perplexities of youth,<br /> +In our wild climate, in our scowling town,<br /> +We gloomed and shivered, sorrowed, sobbed and feared?<br /> +The belching winter wind, the missile rain,<br /> +The rare and welcome silence of the snows,<br /> +The laggard morn, the haggard day, the night,<br /> +The grimy spell of the nocturnal town,<br /> +Do you remember?—Ah, could one forget!</p> +<p class="poetry">As when the fevered sick that all night long<br +/> +Listed the wind intone, and hear at last<br /> +The ever-welcome voice of chanticleer<br /> +Sing in the bitter hour before the dawn,—<br /> +With sudden ardour, these desire the day:<br /> +So sang in the gloom of youth the bird of hope;<br /> +So we, exulting, hearkened and desired.<br /> +For lo! as in the palace porch of life<br /> +We huddled with chimeras, from within—<br /> +How sweet to hear!—the music swelled and fell,<br /> +And through the breach of the revolving doors<br /> +What dreams of splendour blinded us and fled!</p> +<p class="poetry">I have since then contended and rejoiced;<br /> +Amid the glories of the house of life<br /> +Profoundly entered, and the shrine beheld:<br /> +Yet when the lamp from my expiring eyes<br /> +Shall dwindle and recede, the voice of love<br /> +Fall insignificant on my closing ears,<br /> +What sound shall come but the old cry of the wind<br /> +In our inclement city? what return<br /> +But the image of the emptiness of youth,<br /> +Filled with the sound of footsteps and that voice<br /> +Of discontent and rapture and despair?<br /> +So, as in darkness, from the magic lamp,<br /> +The momentary pictures gleam and fade<br /> +And perish, and the night resurges—these<br /> +Shall I remember, and then all forget.</p> +<p><i>Apemama</i>.</p> +<h2>XXXV</h2> +<p class="poetry">The tropics vanish, and meseems that I,<br /> +From Halkerside, from topmost Allermuir,<br /> +Or steep Caerketton, dreaming gaze again.<br /> +Far set in fields and woods, the town I see<br /> +Spring gallant from the shallows of her smoke,<br /> +Cragged, spired, and turreted, her virgin fort<br /> +Beflagged. About, on seaward-drooping hills,<br /> +New folds of city glitter. Last, the Forth<br /> +Wheels ample waters set with sacred isles,<br /> +And populous Fife smokes with a score of towns.</p> +<p class="poetry">There, on the sunny frontage of a hill,<br /> +Hard by the house of kings, repose the dead,<br /> +My dead, the ready and the strong of word.<br /> +Their works, the salt-encrusted, still survive;<br /> +The sea bombards their founded towers; the night<br /> +Thrills pierced with their strong lamps. The artificers,<br +/> +One after one, here in this grated cell,<br /> +Where the rain erases, and the rust consumes,<br /> +Fell upon lasting silence. Continents<br /> +And continental oceans intervene;<br /> +A sea uncharted, on a lampless isle,<br /> +Environs and confines their wandering child<br /> +In vain. The voice of generations dead<br /> +Summons me, sitting distant, to arise,<br /> +My numerous footsteps nimbly to retrace,<br /> +And, all mutation over, stretch me down<br /> +In that denoted city of the dead.</p> +<p><i>Apemama</i>.</p> +<h2>XXXVI—TO S. C.</h2> +<p class="poetry">I heard the pulse of the besieging sea<br /> +Throb far away all night. I heard the wind<br /> +Fly crying and convulse tumultuous palms.<br /> +I rose and strolled. The isle was all bright sand,<br /> +And flailing fans and shadows of the palm;<br /> +The heaven all moon and wind and the blind vault;<br /> +The keenest planet slain, for Venus slept.<br /> + The king, my neighbour, with his host of wives,<br +/> +Slept in the precinct of the palisade;<br /> +Where single, in the wind, under the moon,<br /> +Among the slumbering cabins, blazed a fire,<br /> +Sole street-lamp and the only sentinel.<br /> + To other lands and nights my fancy turned—<br +/> +To London first, and chiefly to your house,<br /> +The many-pillared and the well-beloved.<br /> +There yearning fancy lighted; there again<br /> +In the upper room I lay, and heard far off<br /> +The unsleeping city murmur like a shell;<br /> +The muffled tramp of the Museum guard<br /> +Once more went by me; I beheld again<br /> +Lamps vainly brighten the dispeopled street;<br /> +Again I longed for the returning morn,<br /> +The awaking traffic, the bestirring birds,<br /> +The consentaneous trill of tiny song<br /> +That weaves round monumental cornices<br /> +A passing charm of beauty. Most of all,<br /> +For your light foot I wearied, and your knock<br /> +That was the glad réveillé of my day.<br /> + Lo, now, when to your task in the great house<br /> +At morning through the portico you pass,<br /> +One moment glance, where by the pillared wall<br /> +Far-voyaging island gods, begrimed with smoke,<br /> +Sit now unworshipped, the rude monument<br /> +Of faiths forgot and races undivined:<br /> +Sit now disconsolate, remembering well<br /> +The priest, the victim, and the songful crowd,<br /> +The blaze of the blue noon, and that huge voice,<br /> +Incessant, of the breakers on the shore.<br /> +As far as these from their ancestral shrine,<br /> +So far, so foreign, your divided friends<br /> +Wander, estranged in body, not in mind.</p> +<p><i>Apemama</i>.</p> +<h2>XXXVII—THE HOUSE OF TEMBINOKA</h2> +<p>[At my departure from the island of Apemama, for which you +will look in vain in most atlases, the King and I agreed, since +we both set up to be in the poetical way, that we should +celebrate our separation in verse. Whether or not his +Majesty has been true to his bargain, the laggard posts of the +Pacific may perhaps inform me in six months, perhaps not before a +year. The following lines represent my part of the +contract, and it is hoped, by their pictures of strange manners, +they may entertain a civilised audience. Nothing throughout +has been invented or exaggerated; the lady herein referred to as +the author’s muse has confined herself to stringing into +rhyme facts or legends that I saw or heard during two +months’ residence upon the island.—R. L. S.]</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>ENVOI</i></p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Let us</i>, <i>who part like brothers</i>, +<i>part like bards</i>;<br /> +<i>And you in your tongue and measure</i>, <i>I in mine</i>,<br +/> +<i>Our now division duly solemnise</i>.<br /> +<i>Unlike the strains</i>, <i>and yet the theme is one</i>:<br /> +<i>The strains unlike</i>, <i>and how unlike their fate</i>!<br +/> +<i>You to the blinding palace-yard shall call</i><br /> +<i>The prefect of the singers</i>, <i>and to him</i>,<br /> +<i>Listening devout</i>, <i>your valedictory verse</i><br /> +<i>Deliver</i>; <i>he</i>, <i>his attribute fulfilled</i>,<br /> +<i>To the island chorus hand your measures on</i>,<br /> +<i>Wed now with harmony</i>: <i>so them</i>, <i>at last</i>,<br +/> +<i>Night after night</i>, <i>in the open hall of dance</i>,<br /> +<i>Shall thirty matted men</i>, <i>to the clapped hand</i>,<br /> +<i>Intone and bray and bark</i>. <i>Unfortunate</i>!<br /> +<i>Paper and print alone shall honour mine</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">THE SONG</p> +<p class="poetry">Let now the King his ear arouse<br /> +And toss the bosky ringlets from his brows,<br /> +The while, our bond to implement,<br /> +My muse relates and praises his descent.</p> +<p class="poetry">I</p> +<p class="poetry">Bride of the shark, her valour first I sing<br +/> +Who on the lone seas quickened of a King.<br /> +She, from the shore and puny homes of men,<br /> +Beyond the climber’s sea-discerning ken,<br /> +Swam, led by omens; and devoid of fear,<br /> +Beheld her monstrous paramour draw near.<br /> +She gazed; all round her to the heavenly pale,<br /> +The simple sea was void of isle or sail—<br /> +Sole overhead the unsparing sun was reared—<br /> +When the deep bubbled and the brute appeared.<br /> +But she, secure in the decrees of fate,<br /> +Made strong her bosom and received the mate,<br /> +And, men declare, from that marine embrace<br /> +Conceived the virtues of a stronger race.</p> +<p class="poetry">II</p> +<p class="poetry">Her stern descendant next I praise,<br /> +Survivor of a thousand frays:—<br /> +In the hall of tongues who ruled the throng;<br /> +Led and was trusted by the strong;<br /> +And when spears were in the wood,<br /> +Like a tower of vantage stood:—<br /> +Whom, not till seventy years had sped,<br /> +Unscarred of breast, erect of head,<br /> +Still light of step, still bright of look,<br /> +The hunter, Death, had overtook.</p> +<p class="poetry">III</p> +<p class="poetry">His sons, the brothers twain, I sing,<br /> +Of whom the elder reigned a King.<br /> +No Childeric he, yet much declined<br /> +From his rude sire’s imperious mind,<br /> +Until his day came when he died,<br /> +He lived, he reigned, he versified.<br /> +But chiefly him I celebrate<br /> +That was the pillar of the state,<br /> +Ruled, wise of word and bold of mien,<br /> +The peaceful and the warlike scene;<br /> +And played alike the leader’s part<br /> +In lawful and unlawful art.<br /> +His soldiers with emboldened ears<br /> +Heard him laugh among the spears.<br /> +He could deduce from age to age<br /> +The web of island parentage;<br /> +Best lay the rhyme, best lead the dance,<br /> +For any festal circumstance:<br /> +And fitly fashion oar and boat,<br /> +A palace or an armour coat.<br /> +None more availed than he to raise<br /> +The strong, suffumigating blaze,<br /> +Or knot the wizard leaf: none more,<br /> +Upon the untrodden windward shore<br /> +Of the isle, beside the beating main,<br /> +To cure the sickly and constrain,<br /> +With muttered words and waving rods,<br /> +The gibbering and the whistling gods.<br /> +But he, though thus with hand and head<br /> +He ruled, commanded, charmed, and led,<br /> +And thus in virtue and in might<br /> +Towered to contemporary sight—<br /> +Still in fraternal faith and love,<br /> +Remained below to reach above,<br /> +Gave and obeyed the apt command,<br /> +Pilot and vassal of the land.</p> +<p class="poetry">IV</p> +<p class="poetry">My Tembinok’ from men like these<br /> +Inherited his palaces,<br /> +His right to rule, his powers of mind,<br /> +His cocoa-islands sea-enshrined.<br /> +Stern bearer of the sword and whip,<br /> +A master passed in mastership,<br /> +He learned, without the spur of need,<br /> +To write, to cipher, and to read;<br /> +From all that touch on his prone shore<br /> +Augments his treasury of lore,<br /> +Eager in age as erst in youth<br /> +To catch an art, to learn a truth,<br /> +To paint on the internal page<br /> +A clearer picture of the age.<br /> +His age, you say? But ah, not so!<br /> +In his lone isle of long ago,<br /> +A royal Lady of Shalott,<br /> +Sea-sundered, he beholds it not;<br /> +He only hears it far away.<br /> +The stress of equatorial day<br /> +He suffers; he records the while<br /> +The vapid annals of the isle;<br /> +Slaves bring him praise of his renown,<br /> +Or cackle of the palm-tree town;<br /> +The rarer ship and the rare boat<br /> +He marks; and only hears remote,<br /> +Where thrones and fortunes rise and reel,<br /> +The thunder of the turning wheel.</p> +<p class="poetry">V</p> +<p class="poetry">For the unexpected tears he shed<br /> +At my departing, may his lion head<br /> +Not whiten, his revolving years<br /> +No fresh occasion minister of tears;<br /> +At book or cards, at work or sport,<br /> +Him may the breeze across the palace court<br /> +For ever fan; and swelling near<br /> +For ever the loud song divert his ear.</p> +<p><i>Schooner</i> ‘<i>Equator</i>,’ <i>at +Sea</i>.</p> +<h2>XXXVIII—THE WOODMAN</h2> +<p class="poetry">In all the grove, nor stream nor bird<br /> +Nor aught beside my blows was heard,<br /> +And the woods wore their noonday dress—<br /> +The glory of their silentness.<br /> +From the island summit to the seas,<br /> +Trees mounted, and trees drooped, and trees<br /> +Groped upward in the gaps. The green<br /> +Inarboured talus and ravine<br /> +By fathoms. By the multitude<br /> +The rugged columns of the wood<br /> +And bunches of the branches stood;<br /> +Thick as a mob, deep as a sea,<br /> +And silent as eternity.<br /> +With lowered axe, with backward head,<br /> +Late from this scene my labourer fled,<br /> +And with a ravelled tale to tell,<br /> +Returned. Some denizen of hell,<br /> +Dead man or disinvested god,<br /> +Had close behind him peered and trod,<br /> +And triumphed when he turned to flee.<br /> +How different fell the lines with me!<br /> +Whose eye explored the dim arcade<br /> +Impatient of the uncoming shade—<br /> +Shy elf, or dryad pale and cold,<br /> +Or mystic lingerer from of old:<br /> +Vainly. The fair and stately things,<br /> +Impassive as departed kings,<br /> +All still in the wood’s stillness stood,<br /> +And dumb. The rooted multitude<br /> +Nodded and brooded, bloomed and dreamed,<br /> +Unmeaning, undivined. It seemed<br /> +No other art, no hope, they knew,<br /> +Than clutch the earth and seek the blue.<br /> +’Mid vegetable king and priest<br /> +And stripling, I (the only beast)<br /> +Was at the beast’s work, killing; hewed<br /> +The stubborn roots across, bestrewed<br /> +The glebe with the dislustred leaves,<br /> +And bade the saplings fall in sheaves;<br /> +Bursting across the tangled math<br /> +A ruin that I called a path,<br /> +A Golgotha that, later on,<br /> +When rains had watered, and suns shone,<br /> +And seeds enriched the place, should bear<br /> +And be called garden. Here and there,<br /> +I spied and plucked by the green hair<br /> +A foe more resolute to live,<br /> +The toothed and killing sensitive.<br /> +He, semi-conscious, fled the attack;<br /> +He shrank and tucked his branches back;<br /> +And straining by his anchor-strand,<br /> +Captured and scratched the rooting hand.<br /> +I saw him crouch, I felt him bite;<br /> +And straight my eyes were touched with sight.<br /> +I saw the wood for what it was:<br /> +The lost and the victorious cause,<br /> +The deadly battle pitched in line,<br /> +Saw silent weapons cross and shine:<br /> +Silent defeat, silent assault,<br /> +A battle and a burial vault.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thick round me in the teeming mud<br /> +Brier and fern strove to the blood:<br /> +The hooked liana in his gin<br /> +Noosed his reluctant neighbours in:<br /> +There the green murderer throve and spread,<br /> +Upon his smothering victims fed,<br /> +And wantoned on his climbing coil.<br /> +Contending roots fought for the soil<br /> +Like frightened demons: with despair<br /> +Competing branches pushed for air.<br /> +Green conquerors from overhead<br /> +Bestrode the bodies of their dead:<br /> +The Caesars of the sylvan field,<br /> +Unused to fail, foredoomed to yield:<br /> +For in the groins of branches, lo!<br /> +The cancers of the orchid grow.<br /> +Silent as in the listed ring<br /> +Two chartered wrestlers strain and cling;<br /> +Dumb as by yellow Hooghly’s side<br /> +The suffocating captives died;<br /> +So hushed the woodland warfare goes<br /> +Unceasing; and the silent foes<br /> +Grapple and smother, strain and clasp<br /> +Without a cry, without a gasp.<br /> +Here also sound thy fans, O God,<br /> +Here too thy banners move abroad:<br /> +Forest and city, sea and shore,<br /> +And the whole earth, thy threshing-floor!<br /> +The drums of war, the drums of peace,<br /> +Roll through our cities without cease,<br /> +And all the iron halls of life<br /> +Ring with the unremitting strife.</p> +<p class="poetry">The common lot we scarce perceive.<br /> +Crowds perish, we nor mark nor grieve:<br /> +The bugle calls—we mourn a few!<br /> +What corporal’s guard at Waterloo?<br /> +What scanty hundreds more or less<br /> +In the man-devouring Wilderness?<br /> +What handful bled on Delhi ridge?<br /> +—See, rather, London, on thy bridge<br /> +The pale battalions trample by,<br /> +Resolved to slay, resigned to die.<br /> +Count, rather, all the maimed and dead<br /> +In the unbrotherly war of bread.<br /> +See, rather, under sultrier skies<br /> +What vegetable Londons rise,<br /> +And teem, and suffer without sound:<br /> +Or in your tranquil garden ground,<br /> +Contented, in the falling gloom,<br /> +Saunter and see the roses bloom.<br /> +That these might live, what thousands died!<br /> +All day the cruel hoe was plied;<br /> +The ambulance barrow rolled all day;<br /> +Your wife, the tender, kind, and gay,<br /> +Donned her long gauntlets, caught the spud,<br /> +And bathed in vegetable blood;<br /> +And the long massacre now at end,<br /> +See! where the lazy coils ascend,<br /> +See, where the bonfire sputters red<br /> +At even, for the innocent dead.</p> +<p class="poetry">Why prate of peace? when, warriors all,<br /> +We clank in harness into hall,<br /> +And ever bare upon the board<br /> +Lies the necessary sword.<br /> +In the green field or quiet street,<br /> +Besieged we sleep, beleaguered eat;<br /> +Labour by day and wake o’ nights,<br /> +In war with rival appetites.<br /> +The rose on roses feeds; the lark<br /> +On larks. The sedentary clerk<br /> +All morning with a diligent pen<br /> +Murders the babes of other men;<br /> +And like the beasts of wood and park,<br /> +Protects his whelps, defends his den.</p> +<p class="poetry">Unshamed the narrow aim I hold;<br /> +I feed my sheep, patrol my fold;<br /> +Breathe war on wolves and rival flocks,<br /> +A pious outlaw on the rocks<br /> +Of God and morning; and when time<br /> +Shall bow, or rivals break me, climb<br /> +Where no undubbed civilian dares,<br /> +In my war harness, the loud stairs<br /> +Of honour; and my conqueror<br /> +Hail me a warrior fallen in war.</p> +<p><i>Vailima</i>.</p> +<h2>XXXIX—TROPIC RAIN</h2> +<p class="poetry">As the single pang of the blow, when the metal +is mingled well,<br /> +Rings and lives and resounds in all the bounds of the bell,<br /> +So the thunder above spoke with a single tongue,<br /> +So in the heart of the mountain the sound of it rumbled and +clung.</p> +<p class="poetry">Sudden the thunder was drowned—quenched +was the levin light—<br /> +And the angel-spirit of rain laughed out loud in the night.<br /> +Loud as the maddened river raves in the cloven glen,<br /> +Angel of rain! you laughed and leaped on the roofs of men;</p> +<p class="poetry">And the sleepers sprang in their beds, and +joyed and feared as you fell.<br /> +You struck, and my cabin quailed; the roof of it roared like a +bell.<br /> +You spoke, and at once the mountain shouted and shook with +brooks.<br /> +You ceased, and the day returned, rosy, with virgin looks.</p> +<p class="poetry">And methought that beauty and terror are only +one, not two;<br /> +And the world has room for love, and death, and thunder, and +dew;<br /> +And all the sinews of hell slumber in summer air;<br /> +And the face of God is a rock, but the face of the rock is +fair.<br /> +Beneficent streams of tears flow at the finger of pain;<br /> +And out of the cloud that smites, beneficent rivers of rain.</p> +<p><i>Vailima</i>.</p> +<h2>XL—AN END OF TRAVEL</h2> +<p class="poetry">Let now your soul in this substantial world<br +/> +Some anchor strike. Be here the body moored;—<br /> +This spectacle immutably from now<br /> +The picture in your eye; and when time strikes,<br /> +And the green scene goes on the instant blind—<br /> +The ultimate helpers, where your horse to-day<br /> +Conveyed you dreaming, bear your body dead.</p> +<p><i>Vailima</i>.</p> +<h2>XLI</h2> +<p class="poetry">We uncommiserate pass into the night<br /> +From the loud banquet, and departing leave<br /> +A tremor in men’s memories, faint and sweet<br /> +And frail as music. Features of our face,<br /> +The tones of the voice, the touch of the loved hand,<br /> +Perish and vanish, one by one, from earth:<br /> +Meanwhile, in the hall of song, the multitude<br /> +Applauds the new performer. One, perchance,<br /> +One ultimate survivor lingers on,<br /> +And smiles, and to his ancient heart recalls<br /> +The long forgotten. Ere the morrow die,<br /> +He too, returning, through the curtain comes,<br /> +And the new age forgets us and goes on.</p> +<h2>XLII</h2> +<p class="poetry">Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,<br /> + Say, could that lad be I?<br /> +Merry of soul he sailed on a day<br /> + Over the sea to Skye.</p> +<p class="poetry">Mull was astern, Rum on the port,<br /> + Eigg on the starboard bow;<br /> +Glory of youth glowed in his soul:<br /> + Where is that glory now?</p> +<p class="poetry">Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,<br /> + Say, could that lad be I?<br /> +Merry of soul he sailed on a day<br /> + Over the sea to Skye.</p> +<p class="poetry">Give me again all that was there,<br /> + Give me the sun that shone!<br /> +Give me the eyes, give me the soul,<br /> + Give me the lad that’s gone!</p> +<p class="poetry">Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,<br /> + Say, could that lad be I?<br /> +Merry of soul he sailed on a day<br /> + Over the sea to Skye.</p> +<p class="poetry">Billow and breeze, islands and seas,<br /> + Mountains of rain and sun,<br /> +All that was good, all that was fair,<br /> + All that was me is gone.</p> +<h2>XLIII—TO S. R. CROCKETT<br /> +(<i>On receiving a Dedication</i>)</h2> +<p class="poetry">Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain +are flying,<br /> + Blows the wind on the moors to-day and now,<br /> +Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are crying,<br +/> + My heart remembers how!</p> +<p class="poetry">Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert +places,<br /> + Standing stones on the vacant wine-red moor,<br /> +Hills of sheep, and the howes of the silent vanished races,<br /> + And winds, austere and pure:</p> +<p class="poetry">Be it granted me to behold you again in +dying,<br /> + Hills of home! and to hear again the call;<br /> +Hear about the graves of the martyrs the peewees crying,<br /> + And hear no more at all.</p> +<p><i>Vailima</i>.</p> +<h2>XLIV—EVENSONG</h2> +<p class="poetry">The embers of the day are red<br /> +Beyond the murky hill.<br /> +The kitchen smokes: the bed<br /> +In the darkling house is spread:<br /> +The great sky darkens overhead,<br /> +And the great woods are shrill.<br /> +So far have I been led,<br /> +Lord, by Thy will:<br /> +So far I have followed, Lord, and wondered still.</p> +<p class="poetry">The breeze from the enbalmèd land<br /> +Blows sudden toward the shore,<br /> +And claps my cottage door.<br /> +I hear the signal, Lord—I understand.<br /> +The night at Thy command<br /> +Comes. I will eat and sleep and will not question more.</p> +<p><i>Vailima</i>.</p> +<h2>Footnotes</h2> +<p><a name="footnote44"></a><a href="#citation44" +class="footnote">[44]</a> This is the same Princess +Moë whose charms of person and disposition have been +recorded by the late Lord Pembroke in <i>South Sea Bubbles</i>, +and by M. Pierre Loti in the <i>Mariage de Loti</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote45"></a><a href="#citation45" +class="footnote">[45]</a> The yacht <i>Casco</i> had been +so called by the people of Fakarava in the Paumotus.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF TRAVEL***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 487-h.htm or 487-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/8/487 + + + +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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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: Songs of Travel + and other verses + + +Author: Robert Louis Stevenson + +Editor: Sidney Colvin + +Release Date: October 27, 2009 [eBook #487] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF TRAVEL*** + + +Transcribed from the 1908 Chatto & Windus edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + + Songs of Travel + + + AND OTHER VERSES + + BY + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON + + [Picture: Chatto & Windus logo] + + EIGHTH IMPRESSION + + * * * * * + + LONDON + CHATTO & WINDUS + 1908 + +_The following collection of verses_, _written at various times and +places_, _principally after the author's final departure from England in_ +1887, _was sent home by him for publication some months before his +death_. _He had tried them in several different orders and under several +different titles_, _as_ "_Songs and Notes of Travel_," "_Posthumous +Poems_," _etc._, _and in the end left their naming and arrangement to the +present editor_, _with the suggestion that they should be added as Book +III. to future editions of_ "_Underwoods_." _This suggestion it is +proposed to carry out_; _but in the meantime_, _for the benefit of those +who possess_ "_Underwoods_" _in its original form_, _it has been thought +desirable to publish them separately in the present volume_. _They have +already been included in the Edinburgh Edition of the author's works_. + + _S. C._ + + CONTENTS + + I. THE VAGABOND--Give to me the life I love + + II. YOUTH AND LOVE: I.--Once only by the garden gate + + III. YOUTH AND LOVE: II.--To the heart of youth the world + is a highwayside + + IV. In dreams, unhappy, I behold you stand + + V. She rested by the Broken Brook + + VI. The infinite shining heavens + + VII. Plain as the glistering planets shine + + VIII. To you, let snows and roses + + IX. Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams + + X. I know not how it is with you + + XI. I will make you brooches and toys for your delight + + XII. WE HAVE LOVED OF YORE--Berried brake and reedy island + + XIII. MATER TRIUMPHANS--Son of my woman's body, you go, to + the drum and fife + + XIV. Bright is the ring of words + + XV. In the highlands, in the country places + + XVI. Home no more home to me, wither must I wander? + + XVII. WINTER--In rigorous hours, when down the iron lane + + XVIII. The stormy evening closes now in vain + + XIX. TO DR. HAKE--In the beloved hour that ushers day + + XX. TO -----I knew thee strong and quiet like the hills + + XXI. The morning drum-call on my eager ear + + XXII. I have trod the upward and downward slope + + XXIII. He hears with gladdened heart the thunder + + XXIV. Farewell, fair day and fading light! + + XXV. IF THIS WERE FAITH--God, if this were enough + + XXVI. MY WIFE--Trusty, dusky, vivid, true + + XXVII. TO THE MUSE--Resign the rhapsody, the dream + + XXVIII. TO AN ISLAND PRINCESS--Since long ago, a child at home + + XXIX. TO KALAKAUA--The Sliver Ship, my King--that was her + name + + XXX. TO PRINCESS KAIULANI--Forth form her land to mine she + goes + + XXXI. TO MOTHER MARYANNE--To see the infinite pity of this + place + + XXXII. IN MEMORIAM E. H.--I knew a silver head was bright + beyond compare + + XXXIII. TO MY WIFE--Long must elapse ere you behold again + + XXXIV. TO MY OLD FAMILIARS--Do you remember--can we e'er + forget? + + XXXV. The tropics vanish, and meseems that I + + XXXVI. TO S. C.--I heard the pulse of the besieging sea + + XXXVII. THE HOUSE OF TEMBINOKA--_Let us_, _who part like + brothers_, _part like bards_ + + XXXVIII. THE WOODMAN--In all the grove, not stream nor bird + + XXXIX. TROPIC RAIN--As the single pang of the blow, when the + metal is mingled well + + XL. AN END OF TRAVEL--Let now your soul in this + substantial world + + XLI. We uncommiserate pass into the night + + XLII. Sing me a song of a lad that is gone + + XLIII. TO S. R. CROCKETT--Blows the wind to-day, and the sun + and rain are flying + + XLIV. EVENSONG--The embers of the day are red + +I--THE VAGABOND +(_To an air of Schubert_) + + + Give to me the life I love, + Let the lave go by me, + Give the jolly heaven above + And the byway nigh me. + Bed in the bush with stars to see, + Bread I dip in the river-- + There's the life for a man like me, + There's the life for ever. + + Let the blow fall soon or late, + Let what will be o'er me; + Give the face of earth around + And the road before me. + Wealth I seek not, hope nor love, + Nor a friend to know me; + All I seek, the heaven above + And the road below me. + + Or let autumn fall on me + Where afield I linger, + Silencing the bird on tree, + Biting the blue finger. + White as meal the frosty field-- + Warm the fireside haven-- + Not to autumn will I yield, + Not to winter even! + + Let the blow fall soon or late, + Let what will be o'er me; + Give the face of earth around, + And the road before me. + Wealth I ask not, hope nor love, + Nor a friend to know me; + All I ask, the heaven above + And the road below me. + + + + +II--YOUTH AND LOVE--I + + + Once only by the garden gate + Our lips we joined and parted. + I must fulfil an empty fate + And travel the uncharted. + + Hail and farewell! I must arise, + Leave here the fatted cattle, + And paint on foreign lands and skies + My Odyssey of battle. + + The untented Kosmos my abode, + I pass, a wilful stranger: + My mistress still the open road + And the bright eyes of danger. + + Come ill or well, the cross, the crown, + The rainbow or the thunder, + I fling my soul and body down + For God to plough them under. + + + + +III--YOUTH AND LOVE--II + + + To the heart of youth the world is a highwayside. + Passing for ever, he fares; and on either hand, + Deep in the gardens golden pavilions hide, + Nestle in orchard bloom, and far on the level land + Call him with lighted lamp in the eventide. + + Thick as the stars at night when the moon is down, + Pleasures assail him. He to his nobler fate + Fares; and but waves a hand as he passes on, + Cries but a wayside word to her at the garden gate, + Sings but a boyish stave and his face is gone. + + + + +IV + + + In dreams, unhappy, I behold you stand + As heretofore: + The unremembered tokens in your hand + Avail no more. + + No more the morning glow, no more the grace, + Enshrines, endears. + Cold beats the light of time upon your face + And shows your tears. + + He came and went. Perchance you wept a while + And then forgot. + Ah me! but he that left you with a smile + Forgets you not. + + + + +V + + + She rested by the Broken Brook, + She drank of Weary Well, + She moved beyond my lingering look, + Ah, whither none can tell! + + She came, she went. In other lands, + Perchance in fairer skies, + Her hands shall cling with other hands, + Her eyes to other eyes. + + She vanished. In the sounding town, + Will she remember too? + Will she recall the eyes of brown + As I recall the blue? + + + + +VI + + + The infinite shining heavens + Rose and I saw in the night + Uncountable angel stars + Showering sorrow and light. + + I saw them distant as heaven, + Dumb and shining and dead, + And the idle stars of the night + Were dearer to me than bread. + + Night after night in my sorrow + The stars stood over the sea, + Till lo! I looked in the dusk + And a star had come down to me. + + + + +VII + + + Plain as the glistering planets shine + When winds have cleaned the skies, + Her love appeared, appealed for mine, + And wantoned in her eyes. + + Clear as the shining tapers burned + On Cytherea's shrine, + Those brimming, lustrous beauties turned, + And called and conquered mine. + + The beacon-lamp that Hero lit + No fairer shone on sea, + No plainlier summoned will and wit, + Than hers encouraged me. + + I thrilled to feel her influence near, + I struck my flag at sight. + Her starry silence smote my ear + Like sudden drums at night. + + I ran as, at the cannon's roar, + The troops the ramparts man-- + As in the holy house of yore + The willing Eli ran. + + Here, lady, lo! that servant stands + You picked from passing men, + And should you need nor heart nor hands + He bows and goes again. + + + + +VIII + + + To you, let snow and roses + And golden locks belong. + These are the world's enslavers, + Let these delight the throng. + For her of duskier lustre + Whose favour still I wear, + The snow be in her kirtle, + The rose be in her hair! + + The hue of highland rivers + Careering, full and cool, + From sable on to golden, + From rapid on to pool-- + The hue of heather-honey, + The hue of honey-bees, + Shall tinge her golden shoulder, + Shall gild her tawny knees. + + + + +IX + + + Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams, + Beauty awake from rest! + Let Beauty awake + For Beauty's sake + In the hour when the birds awake in the brake + And the stars are bright in the west! + + Let Beauty awake in the eve from the slumber of day, + Awake in the crimson eve! + In the day's dusk end + When the shades ascend, + Let her wake to the kiss of a tender friend + To render again and receive! + + + + +X + + + I know not how it is with you-- + _I_ love the first and last, + The whole field of the present view, + The whole flow of the past. + + One tittle of the things that are, + Nor you should change nor I-- + One pebble in our path--one star + In all our heaven of sky. + + Our lives, and every day and hour, + One symphony appear: + One road, one garden--every flower + And every bramble dear. + + + + +XI + + + I will make you brooches and toys for your delight + Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night. + I will make a palace fit for you and me + Of green days in forests and blue days at sea. + + I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room, + Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom, + And you shall wash your linen and keep your body white + In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night. + + And this shall be for music when no one else is near, + The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear! + That only I remember, that only you admire, + Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire. + + + + +XII--WE HAVE LOVED OF YORE +(_To an air of Diabelli_) + + + Berried brake and reedy island, + Heaven below, and only heaven above, + Through the sky's inverted azure + Softly swam the boat that bore our love. + Bright were your eyes as the day; + Bright ran the stream, + Bright hung the sky above. + Days of April, airs of Eden, + How the glory died through golden hours, + And the shining moon arising, + How the boat drew homeward filled with flowers! + Bright were your eyes in the night: + We have lived, my love-- + O, we have loved, my love. + + Frost has bound our flowing river, + Snow has whitened all our island brake, + And beside the winter fagot + Joan and Darby doze and dream and wake. + Still, in the river of dreams + Swims the boat of love-- + Hark! chimes the falling oar! + And again in winter evens + When on firelight dreaming fancy feeds, + In those ears of aged lovers + Love's own river warbles in the reeds. + Love still the past, O my love! + We have lived of yore, + O, we have loved of yore. + + + + +XIII--MATER TRIUMPHANS + + + Son of my woman's body, you go, to the drum and fife, + To taste the colour of love and the other side of life-- + From out of the dainty the rude, the strong from out of the frail, + Eternally through the ages from the female comes the male. + + The ten fingers and toes, and the shell-like nail on each, + The eyes blind as gems and the tongue attempting speech; + Impotent hands in my bosom, and yet they shall wield the sword! + Drugged with slumber and milk, you wait the day of the Lord. + + Infant bridegroom, uncrowned king, unanointed priest, + Soldier, lover, explorer, I see you nuzzle the breast. + You that grope in my bosom shall load the ladies with rings, + You, that came forth through the doors, shall burst the doors of + kings. + + + + +XIV + + + Bright is the ring of words + When the right man rings them, + Fair the fall of songs + When the singer sings them. + Still they are carolled and said-- + On wings they are carried-- + After the singer is dead + And the maker buried. + + Low as the singer lies + In the field of heather, + Songs of his fashion bring + The swains together. + And when the west is red + With the sunset embers, + The lover lingers and sings + And the maid remembers. + + + + +XV + + + In the highlands, in the country places, + Where the old plain men have rosy faces, + And the young fair maidens + Quiet eyes; + Where essential silence cheers and blesses, + And for ever in the hill-recesses + _Her_ more lovely music + Broods and dies. + + O to mount again where erst I haunted; + Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted, + And the low green meadows + Bright with sward; + And when even dies, the million-tinted, + And the night has come, and planets glinted, + Lo, the valley hollow + Lamp-bestarred! + + O to dream, O to awake and wander + There, and with delight to take and render, + Through the trance of silence, + Quiet breath; + Lo! for there, among the flowers and grasses, + Only the mightier movement sounds and passes; + Only winds and rivers, + Life and death. + + + + +XVI +(_To the tune of Wandering Willie_) + + + Home no more home to me, whither must I wander? + Hunger my driver, I go where I must. + Cold blows the winter wind over hill and heather; + Thick drives the rain, and my roof is in the dust. + Loved of wise men was the shade of my roof-tree. + The true word of welcome was spoken in the door-- + Dear days of old, with the faces in the firelight, + Kind folks of old, you come again no more. + + Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces, + Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child. + Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland; + Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild. + Now, when day dawns on the brow of the moorland, + Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold. + Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed, + The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old. + + Spring shall come, come again, calling up the moorfowl, + Spring shall bring the sun and rain, bring the bees and flowers; + Red shall the heather bloom over hill and valley, + Soft flow the stream through the even-flowing hours; + Fair the day shine as it shone on my childhood-- + Fair shine the day on the house with open door; + Birds come and cry there and twitter in the chimney-- + But I go for ever and come again no more. + + + + +XVII--WINTER + + + In rigorous hours, when down the iron lane + The redbreast looks in vain + For hips and haws, + Lo, shining flowers upon my window-pane + The silver pencil of the winter draws. + + When all the snowy hill + And the bare woods are still; + When snipes are silent in the frozen bogs, + And all the garden garth is whelmed in mire, + Lo, by the hearth, the laughter of the logs-- + More fair than roses, lo, the flowers of fire! + +_Saranac Lake_. + + + + +XVIII + + + The stormy evening closes now in vain, + Loud wails the wind and beats the driving rain, + While here in sheltered house + With fire-ypainted walls, + I hear the wind abroad, + I hark the calling squalls-- + 'Blow, blow,' I cry, 'you burst your cheeks in vain! + Blow, blow,' I cry, 'my love is home again!' + + Yon ship you chase perchance but yesternight + Bore still the precious freight of my delight, + That here in sheltered house + With fire-ypainted walls, + Now hears the wind abroad, + Now harks the calling squalls. + 'Blow, blow,' I cry, 'in vain you rouse the sea, + My rescued sailor shares the fire with me!' + + + + +XIX--TO DR. HAKE +(_On receiving a Copy of Verses_) + + + In the beloved hour that ushers day, + In the pure dew, under the breaking grey, + One bird, ere yet the woodland quires awake, + With brief reveille summons all the brake: + _Chirp_, _chirp_, it goes; nor waits an answer long; + And that small signal fills the grove with song. + + Thus on my pipe I breathed a strain or two; + It scarce was music, but 'twas all I knew. + It was not music, for I lacked the art, + Yet what but frozen music filled my heart? + + _Chirp_, _chirp_, I went, nor hoped a nobler strain; + But Heaven decreed I should not pipe in vain, + For, lo! not far from there, in secret dale, + All silent, sat an ancient nightingale. + My sparrow notes he heard; thereat awoke; + And with a tide of song his silence broke. + + + + +XX--TO --- + + + I knew thee strong and quiet like the hills; + I knew thee apt to pity, brave to endure, + In peace or war a Roman full equipt; + And just I knew thee, like the fabled kings + Who by the loud sea-shore gave judgment forth, + From dawn to eve, bearded and few of words. + What, what, was I to honour thee? A child; + A youth in ardour but a child in strength, + Who after virtue's golden chariot-wheels + Runs ever panting, nor attains the goal. + So thought I, and was sorrowful at heart. + + Since then my steps have visited that flood + Along whose shore the numerous footfalls cease, + The voices and the tears of life expire. + Thither the prints go down, the hero's way + Trod large upon the sand, the trembling maid's: + Nimrod that wound his trumpet in the wood, + And the poor, dreaming child, hunter of flowers, + That here his hunting closes with the great: + So one and all go down, nor aught returns. + + For thee, for us, the sacred river waits, + For me, the unworthy, thee, the perfect friend; + There Blame desists, there his unfaltering dogs + He from the chase recalls, and homeward rides; + Yet Praise and Love pass over and go in. + So when, beside that margin, I discard + My more than mortal weakness, and with thee + Through that still land unfearing I advance: + If then at all we keep the touch of joy + Thou shalt rejoice to find me altered--I, + O Felix, to behold thee still unchanged. + + + + +XXI + + + The morning drum-call on my eager ear + Thrills unforgotten yet; the morning dew + Lies yet undried along my field of noon. + + But now I pause at whiles in what I do, + And count the bell, and tremble lest I hear + (My work untrimmed) the sunset gun too soon. + + + + +XXII + + + I have trod the upward and the downward slope; + I have endured and done in days before; + I have longed for all, and bid farewell to hope; + And I have lived and loved, and closed the door. + + + + +XXIII + + + He hears with gladdened heart the thunder + Peal, and loves the falling dew; + He knows the earth above and under-- + Sits and is content to view. + + He sits beside the dying ember, + God for hope and man for friend, + Content to see, glad to remember, + Expectant of the certain end. + + + + +XXIV + + + Farewell, fair day and fading light! + The clay-born here, with westward sight, + Marks the huge sun now downward soar. + Farewell. We twain shall meet no more. + + Farewell. I watch with bursting sigh + My late contemned occasion die. + I linger useless in my tent: + Farewell, fair day, so foully spent! + + Farewell, fair day. If any God + At all consider this poor clod, + He who the fair occasion sent + Prepared and placed the impediment. + + Let him diviner vengeance take-- + Give me to sleep, give me to wake + Girded and shod, and bid me play + The hero in the coming day! + + + + +XXV--IF THIS WERE FAITH + + + God, if this were enough, + That I see things bare to the buff + And up to the buttocks in mire; + That I ask nor hope nor hire, + Nut in the husk, + Nor dawn beyond the dusk, + Nor life beyond death: + God, if this were faith? + + Having felt thy wind in my face + Spit sorrow and disgrace, + Having seen thine evil doom + In Golgotha and Khartoum, + And the brutes, the work of thine hands, + Fill with injustice lands + And stain with blood the sea: + If still in my veins the glee + Of the black night and the sun + And the lost battle, run: + If, an adept, + The iniquitous lists I still accept + With joy, and joy to endure and be withstood, + And still to battle and perish for a dream of good: + God, if that were enough? + + If to feel, in the ink of the slough, + And the sink of the mire, + Veins of glory and fire + Run through and transpierce and transpire, + And a secret purpose of glory in every part, + And the answering glory of battle fill my heart; + To thrill with the joy of girded men + To go on for ever and fail and go on again, + And be mauled to the earth and arise, + And contend for the shade of a word and a thing not seen with the + eyes: + With the half of a broken hope for a pillow at night + That somehow the right is the right + And the smooth shall bloom from the rough: + Lord, if that were enough? + + + + +XXVI--MY WIFE + + + Trusty, dusky, vivid, true, + With eyes of gold and bramble-dew, + Steel-true and blade-straight, + The great artificer + Made my mate. + + Honour, anger, valour, fire; + A love that life could never tire, + Death quench or evil stir, + The mighty master + Gave to her. + + Teacher, tender, comrade, wife, + A fellow-farer true through life, + Heart-whole and soul-free + The august father + Gave to me. + + + + +XXVII--TO THE MUSE + + + Resign the rhapsody, the dream, + To men of larger reach; + Be ours the quest of a plain theme, + The piety of speech. + + As monkish scribes from morning break + Toiled till the close of light, + Nor thought a day too long to make + One line or letter bright: + + We also with an ardent mind, + Time, wealth, and fame forgot, + Our glory in our patience find + And skim, and skim the pot: + + Till last, when round the house we hear + The evensong of birds, + One corner of blue heaven appear + In our clear well of words. + + Leave, leave it then, muse of my heart! + Sans finish and sans frame, + Leave unadorned by needless art + The picture as it came. + + + + +XXVIII--TO AN ISLAND PRINCESS + + + Since long ago, a child at home, + I read and longed to rise and roam, + Where'er I went, whate'er I willed, + One promised land my fancy filled. + Hence the long roads my home I made; + Tossed much in ships; have often laid + Below the uncurtained sky my head, + Rain-deluged and wind-buffeted: + And many a thousand hills I crossed + And corners turned--Love's labour lost, + Till, Lady, to your isle of sun + I came, not hoping; and, like one + Snatched out of blindness, rubbed my eyes, + And hailed my promised land with cries. + + Yes, Lady, here I was at last; + Here found I all I had forecast: + The long roll of the sapphire sea + That keeps the land's virginity; + The stalwart giants of the wood + Laden with toys and flowers and food; + The precious forest pouring out + To compass the whole town about; + The town itself with streets of lawn, + Loved of the moon, blessed by the dawn, + Where the brown children all the day + Keep up a ceaseless noise of play, + Play in the sun, play in the rain, + Nor ever quarrel or complain;-- + And late at night, in the woods of fruit, + Hark! do you hear the passing flute? + + I threw one look to either hand, + And knew I was in Fairyland. + And yet one point of being so + I lacked. For, Lady (as you know), + Whoever by his might of hand, + Won entrance into Fairyland, + Found always with admiring eyes + A Fairy princess kind and wise. + It was not long I waited; soon + Upon my threshold, in broad noon, + Gracious and helpful, wise and good, + The Fairy Princess Moe stood. {44} + +_Tantira_, _Tahiti_, _Nov._ 5, 1888. + + + + +XXIX--TO KALAKAUA +(_With a present of a Pearl_) + + + The Silver Ship, my King--that was her name + In the bright islands whence your fathers came {45}-- + The Silver Ship, at rest from winds and tides, + Below your palace in your harbour rides: + And the seafarers, sitting safe on shore, + Like eager merchants count their treasures o'er. + One gift they find, one strange and lovely thing, + Now doubly precious since it pleased a king. + + The right, my liege, is ancient as the lyre + For bards to give to kings what kings admire. + 'Tis mine to offer for Apollo's sake; + And since the gift is fitting, yours to take. + To golden hands the golden pearl I bring: + The ocean jewel to the island king. + +_Honolulu_, _Feb._ 3, 1889. + + + + +XXX--TO PRINCESS KAIULANI + + +[Written in April to Kaiulani in the April of her age; and at Waikiki, +within easy walk of Kaiulani's banyan! When she comes to my land and her +father's, and the rain beats upon the window (as I fear it will), let her +look at this page; it will be like a weed gathered and pressed at home; +and she will remember her own islands, and the shadow of the mighty tree; +and she will hear the peacocks screaming in the dusk and the wind blowing +in the palms; and she will think of her father sitting there alone.--R. +L. S.] + + Forth from her land to mine she goes, + The island maid, the island rose, + Light of heart and bright of face: + The daughter of a double race. + + Her islands here, in Southern sun, + Shall mourn their Kaiulani gone, + And I, in her dear banyan shade, + Look vainly for my little maid. + + But our Scots islands far away + Shall glitter with unwonted day, + And cast for once their tempests by + To smile in Kaiulani's eye. + +_Honolulu_. + + + + +XXXI--TO MOTHER MARYANNE + + + To see the infinite pity of this place, + The mangled limb, the devastated face, + The innocent sufferer smiling at the rod-- + A fool were tempted to deny his God. + He sees, he shrinks. But if he gaze again, + Lo, beauty springing from the breast of pain! + He marks the sisters on the mournful shores; + And even a fool is silent and adores. + +_Guest House_, _Kalawao_, _Molokai_. + + + + +XXXII--IN MEMORIAM E. H. + + + I knew a silver head was bright beyond compare, + I knew a queen of toil with a crown of silver hair. + Garland of valour and sorrow, of beauty and renown, + Life, that honours the brave, crowned her himself with the crown. + + The beauties of youth are frail, but this was a jewel of age. + Life, that delights in the brave, gave it himself for a gage. + Fair was the crown to behold, and beauty its poorest part-- + At once the scar of the wound and the order pinned on the heart. + + The beauties of man are frail, and the silver lies in the dust, + And the queen that we call to mind sleeps with the brave and the just; + Sleeps with the weary at length; but, honoured and ever fair, + Shines in the eye of the mind the crown of the silver hair. + +_Honolulu_. + + + + +XXXIII--TO MY WIFE +(_A Fragment_) + + + Long must elapse ere you behold again + Green forest frame the entry of the lane-- + The wild lane with the bramble and the brier, + The year-old cart-tracks perfect in the mire, + The wayside smoke, perchance, the dwarfish huts, + And ramblers' donkey drinking from the ruts:-- + Long ere you trace how deviously it leads, + Back from man's chimneys and the bleating meads + To the woodland shadow, to the sylvan hush, + When but the brooklet chuckles in the brush-- + Back from the sun and bustle of the vale + To where the great voice of the nightingale + Fills all the forest like a single room, + And all the banks smell of the golden broom; + So wander on until the eve descends. + And back returning to your firelit friends, + You see the rosy sun, despoiled of light, + Hung, caught in thickets, like a schoolboy's kite. + + Here from the sea the unfruitful sun shall rise, + Bathe the bare deck and blind the unshielded eyes; + The allotted hours aloft shall wheel in vain + And in the unpregnant ocean plunge again. + Assault of squalls that mock the watchful guard, + And pluck the bursting canvas from the yard, + And senseless clamour of the calm, at night + Must mar your slumbers. By the plunging light, + In beetle-haunted, most unwomanly bower + Of the wild-swerving cabin, hour by hour . . . + +_Schooner_ '_Equator_.' + + + + +XXXIV--TO MY OLD FAMILIARS + + + Do you remember--can we e'er forget?-- + How, in the coiled-perplexities of youth, + In our wild climate, in our scowling town, + We gloomed and shivered, sorrowed, sobbed and feared? + The belching winter wind, the missile rain, + The rare and welcome silence of the snows, + The laggard morn, the haggard day, the night, + The grimy spell of the nocturnal town, + Do you remember?--Ah, could one forget! + + As when the fevered sick that all night long + Listed the wind intone, and hear at last + The ever-welcome voice of chanticleer + Sing in the bitter hour before the dawn,-- + With sudden ardour, these desire the day: + So sang in the gloom of youth the bird of hope; + So we, exulting, hearkened and desired. + For lo! as in the palace porch of life + We huddled with chimeras, from within-- + How sweet to hear!--the music swelled and fell, + And through the breach of the revolving doors + What dreams of splendour blinded us and fled! + + I have since then contended and rejoiced; + Amid the glories of the house of life + Profoundly entered, and the shrine beheld: + Yet when the lamp from my expiring eyes + Shall dwindle and recede, the voice of love + Fall insignificant on my closing ears, + What sound shall come but the old cry of the wind + In our inclement city? what return + But the image of the emptiness of youth, + Filled with the sound of footsteps and that voice + Of discontent and rapture and despair? + So, as in darkness, from the magic lamp, + The momentary pictures gleam and fade + And perish, and the night resurges--these + Shall I remember, and then all forget. + +_Apemama_. + + + + +XXXV + + + The tropics vanish, and meseems that I, + From Halkerside, from topmost Allermuir, + Or steep Caerketton, dreaming gaze again. + Far set in fields and woods, the town I see + Spring gallant from the shallows of her smoke, + Cragged, spired, and turreted, her virgin fort + Beflagged. About, on seaward-drooping hills, + New folds of city glitter. Last, the Forth + Wheels ample waters set with sacred isles, + And populous Fife smokes with a score of towns. + + There, on the sunny frontage of a hill, + Hard by the house of kings, repose the dead, + My dead, the ready and the strong of word. + Their works, the salt-encrusted, still survive; + The sea bombards their founded towers; the night + Thrills pierced with their strong lamps. The artificers, + One after one, here in this grated cell, + Where the rain erases, and the rust consumes, + Fell upon lasting silence. Continents + And continental oceans intervene; + A sea uncharted, on a lampless isle, + Environs and confines their wandering child + In vain. The voice of generations dead + Summons me, sitting distant, to arise, + My numerous footsteps nimbly to retrace, + And, all mutation over, stretch me down + In that denoted city of the dead. + +_Apemama_. + + + + +XXXVI--TO S. C. + + + I heard the pulse of the besieging sea + Throb far away all night. I heard the wind + Fly crying and convulse tumultuous palms. + I rose and strolled. The isle was all bright sand, + And flailing fans and shadows of the palm; + The heaven all moon and wind and the blind vault; + The keenest planet slain, for Venus slept. + The king, my neighbour, with his host of wives, + Slept in the precinct of the palisade; + Where single, in the wind, under the moon, + Among the slumbering cabins, blazed a fire, + Sole street-lamp and the only sentinel. + To other lands and nights my fancy turned-- + To London first, and chiefly to your house, + The many-pillared and the well-beloved. + There yearning fancy lighted; there again + In the upper room I lay, and heard far off + The unsleeping city murmur like a shell; + The muffled tramp of the Museum guard + Once more went by me; I beheld again + Lamps vainly brighten the dispeopled street; + Again I longed for the returning morn, + The awaking traffic, the bestirring birds, + The consentaneous trill of tiny song + That weaves round monumental cornices + A passing charm of beauty. Most of all, + For your light foot I wearied, and your knock + That was the glad reveille of my day. + Lo, now, when to your task in the great house + At morning through the portico you pass, + One moment glance, where by the pillared wall + Far-voyaging island gods, begrimed with smoke, + Sit now unworshipped, the rude monument + Of faiths forgot and races undivined: + Sit now disconsolate, remembering well + The priest, the victim, and the songful crowd, + The blaze of the blue noon, and that huge voice, + Incessant, of the breakers on the shore. + As far as these from their ancestral shrine, + So far, so foreign, your divided friends + Wander, estranged in body, not in mind. + +_Apemama_. + + + + +XXXVII--THE HOUSE OF TEMBINOKA + + +[At my departure from the island of Apemama, for which you will look in +vain in most atlases, the King and I agreed, since we both set up to be +in the poetical way, that we should celebrate our separation in verse. +Whether or not his Majesty has been true to his bargain, the laggard +posts of the Pacific may perhaps inform me in six months, perhaps not +before a year. The following lines represent my part of the contract, +and it is hoped, by their pictures of strange manners, they may entertain +a civilised audience. Nothing throughout has been invented or +exaggerated; the lady herein referred to as the author's muse has +confined herself to stringing into rhyme facts or legends that I saw or +heard during two months' residence upon the island.--R. L. S.] + + _ENVOI_ + + _Let us_, _who part like brothers_, _part like bards_; + _And you in your tongue and measure_, _I in mine_, + _Our now division duly solemnise_. + _Unlike the strains_, _and yet the theme is one_: + _The strains unlike_, _and how unlike their fate_! + _You to the blinding palace-yard shall call_ + _The prefect of the singers_, _and to him_, + _Listening devout_, _your valedictory verse_ + _Deliver_; _he_, _his attribute fulfilled_, + _To the island chorus hand your measures on_, + _Wed now with harmony_: _so them_, _at last_, + _Night after night_, _in the open hall of dance_, + _Shall thirty matted men_, _to the clapped hand_, + _Intone and bray and bark_. _Unfortunate_! + _Paper and print alone shall honour mine_. + + THE SONG + + Let now the King his ear arouse + And toss the bosky ringlets from his brows, + The while, our bond to implement, + My muse relates and praises his descent. + + I + + Bride of the shark, her valour first I sing + Who on the lone seas quickened of a King. + She, from the shore and puny homes of men, + Beyond the climber's sea-discerning ken, + Swam, led by omens; and devoid of fear, + Beheld her monstrous paramour draw near. + She gazed; all round her to the heavenly pale, + The simple sea was void of isle or sail-- + Sole overhead the unsparing sun was reared-- + When the deep bubbled and the brute appeared. + But she, secure in the decrees of fate, + Made strong her bosom and received the mate, + And, men declare, from that marine embrace + Conceived the virtues of a stronger race. + + II + + Her stern descendant next I praise, + Survivor of a thousand frays:-- + In the hall of tongues who ruled the throng; + Led and was trusted by the strong; + And when spears were in the wood, + Like a tower of vantage stood:-- + Whom, not till seventy years had sped, + Unscarred of breast, erect of head, + Still light of step, still bright of look, + The hunter, Death, had overtook. + + III + + His sons, the brothers twain, I sing, + Of whom the elder reigned a King. + No Childeric he, yet much declined + From his rude sire's imperious mind, + Until his day came when he died, + He lived, he reigned, he versified. + But chiefly him I celebrate + That was the pillar of the state, + Ruled, wise of word and bold of mien, + The peaceful and the warlike scene; + And played alike the leader's part + In lawful and unlawful art. + His soldiers with emboldened ears + Heard him laugh among the spears. + He could deduce from age to age + The web of island parentage; + Best lay the rhyme, best lead the dance, + For any festal circumstance: + And fitly fashion oar and boat, + A palace or an armour coat. + None more availed than he to raise + The strong, suffumigating blaze, + Or knot the wizard leaf: none more, + Upon the untrodden windward shore + Of the isle, beside the beating main, + To cure the sickly and constrain, + With muttered words and waving rods, + The gibbering and the whistling gods. + But he, though thus with hand and head + He ruled, commanded, charmed, and led, + And thus in virtue and in might + Towered to contemporary sight-- + Still in fraternal faith and love, + Remained below to reach above, + Gave and obeyed the apt command, + Pilot and vassal of the land. + + IV + + My Tembinok' from men like these + Inherited his palaces, + His right to rule, his powers of mind, + His cocoa-islands sea-enshrined. + Stern bearer of the sword and whip, + A master passed in mastership, + He learned, without the spur of need, + To write, to cipher, and to read; + From all that touch on his prone shore + Augments his treasury of lore, + Eager in age as erst in youth + To catch an art, to learn a truth, + To paint on the internal page + A clearer picture of the age. + His age, you say? But ah, not so! + In his lone isle of long ago, + A royal Lady of Shalott, + Sea-sundered, he beholds it not; + He only hears it far away. + The stress of equatorial day + He suffers; he records the while + The vapid annals of the isle; + Slaves bring him praise of his renown, + Or cackle of the palm-tree town; + The rarer ship and the rare boat + He marks; and only hears remote, + Where thrones and fortunes rise and reel, + The thunder of the turning wheel. + + V + + For the unexpected tears he shed + At my departing, may his lion head + Not whiten, his revolving years + No fresh occasion minister of tears; + At book or cards, at work or sport, + Him may the breeze across the palace court + For ever fan; and swelling near + For ever the loud song divert his ear. + +_Schooner_ '_Equator_,' _at Sea_. + + + + +XXXVIII--THE WOODMAN + + + In all the grove, nor stream nor bird + Nor aught beside my blows was heard, + And the woods wore their noonday dress-- + The glory of their silentness. + From the island summit to the seas, + Trees mounted, and trees drooped, and trees + Groped upward in the gaps. The green + Inarboured talus and ravine + By fathoms. By the multitude + The rugged columns of the wood + And bunches of the branches stood; + Thick as a mob, deep as a sea, + And silent as eternity. + With lowered axe, with backward head, + Late from this scene my labourer fled, + And with a ravelled tale to tell, + Returned. Some denizen of hell, + Dead man or disinvested god, + Had close behind him peered and trod, + And triumphed when he turned to flee. + How different fell the lines with me! + Whose eye explored the dim arcade + Impatient of the uncoming shade-- + Shy elf, or dryad pale and cold, + Or mystic lingerer from of old: + Vainly. The fair and stately things, + Impassive as departed kings, + All still in the wood's stillness stood, + And dumb. The rooted multitude + Nodded and brooded, bloomed and dreamed, + Unmeaning, undivined. It seemed + No other art, no hope, they knew, + Than clutch the earth and seek the blue. + 'Mid vegetable king and priest + And stripling, I (the only beast) + Was at the beast's work, killing; hewed + The stubborn roots across, bestrewed + The glebe with the dislustred leaves, + And bade the saplings fall in sheaves; + Bursting across the tangled math + A ruin that I called a path, + A Golgotha that, later on, + When rains had watered, and suns shone, + And seeds enriched the place, should bear + And be called garden. Here and there, + I spied and plucked by the green hair + A foe more resolute to live, + The toothed and killing sensitive. + He, semi-conscious, fled the attack; + He shrank and tucked his branches back; + And straining by his anchor-strand, + Captured and scratched the rooting hand. + I saw him crouch, I felt him bite; + And straight my eyes were touched with sight. + I saw the wood for what it was: + The lost and the victorious cause, + The deadly battle pitched in line, + Saw silent weapons cross and shine: + Silent defeat, silent assault, + A battle and a burial vault. + + Thick round me in the teeming mud + Brier and fern strove to the blood: + The hooked liana in his gin + Noosed his reluctant neighbours in: + There the green murderer throve and spread, + Upon his smothering victims fed, + And wantoned on his climbing coil. + Contending roots fought for the soil + Like frightened demons: with despair + Competing branches pushed for air. + Green conquerors from overhead + Bestrode the bodies of their dead: + The Caesars of the sylvan field, + Unused to fail, foredoomed to yield: + For in the groins of branches, lo! + The cancers of the orchid grow. + Silent as in the listed ring + Two chartered wrestlers strain and cling; + Dumb as by yellow Hooghly's side + The suffocating captives died; + So hushed the woodland warfare goes + Unceasing; and the silent foes + Grapple and smother, strain and clasp + Without a cry, without a gasp. + Here also sound thy fans, O God, + Here too thy banners move abroad: + Forest and city, sea and shore, + And the whole earth, thy threshing-floor! + The drums of war, the drums of peace, + Roll through our cities without cease, + And all the iron halls of life + Ring with the unremitting strife. + + The common lot we scarce perceive. + Crowds perish, we nor mark nor grieve: + The bugle calls--we mourn a few! + What corporal's guard at Waterloo? + What scanty hundreds more or less + In the man-devouring Wilderness? + What handful bled on Delhi ridge? + --See, rather, London, on thy bridge + The pale battalions trample by, + Resolved to slay, resigned to die. + Count, rather, all the maimed and dead + In the unbrotherly war of bread. + See, rather, under sultrier skies + What vegetable Londons rise, + And teem, and suffer without sound: + Or in your tranquil garden ground, + Contented, in the falling gloom, + Saunter and see the roses bloom. + That these might live, what thousands died! + All day the cruel hoe was plied; + The ambulance barrow rolled all day; + Your wife, the tender, kind, and gay, + Donned her long gauntlets, caught the spud, + And bathed in vegetable blood; + And the long massacre now at end, + See! where the lazy coils ascend, + See, where the bonfire sputters red + At even, for the innocent dead. + + Why prate of peace? when, warriors all, + We clank in harness into hall, + And ever bare upon the board + Lies the necessary sword. + In the green field or quiet street, + Besieged we sleep, beleaguered eat; + Labour by day and wake o' nights, + In war with rival appetites. + The rose on roses feeds; the lark + On larks. The sedentary clerk + All morning with a diligent pen + Murders the babes of other men; + And like the beasts of wood and park, + Protects his whelps, defends his den. + + Unshamed the narrow aim I hold; + I feed my sheep, patrol my fold; + Breathe war on wolves and rival flocks, + A pious outlaw on the rocks + Of God and morning; and when time + Shall bow, or rivals break me, climb + Where no undubbed civilian dares, + In my war harness, the loud stairs + Of honour; and my conqueror + Hail me a warrior fallen in war. + +_Vailima_. + + + + +XXXIX--TROPIC RAIN + + + As the single pang of the blow, when the metal is mingled well, + Rings and lives and resounds in all the bounds of the bell, + So the thunder above spoke with a single tongue, + So in the heart of the mountain the sound of it rumbled and clung. + + Sudden the thunder was drowned--quenched was the levin light-- + And the angel-spirit of rain laughed out loud in the night. + Loud as the maddened river raves in the cloven glen, + Angel of rain! you laughed and leaped on the roofs of men; + + And the sleepers sprang in their beds, and joyed and feared as you + fell. + You struck, and my cabin quailed; the roof of it roared like a bell. + You spoke, and at once the mountain shouted and shook with brooks. + You ceased, and the day returned, rosy, with virgin looks. + + And methought that beauty and terror are only one, not two; + And the world has room for love, and death, and thunder, and dew; + And all the sinews of hell slumber in summer air; + And the face of God is a rock, but the face of the rock is fair. + Beneficent streams of tears flow at the finger of pain; + And out of the cloud that smites, beneficent rivers of rain. + +_Vailima_. + + + + +XL--AN END OF TRAVEL + + + Let now your soul in this substantial world + Some anchor strike. Be here the body moored;-- + This spectacle immutably from now + The picture in your eye; and when time strikes, + And the green scene goes on the instant blind-- + The ultimate helpers, where your horse to-day + Conveyed you dreaming, bear your body dead. + +_Vailima_. + + + + +XLI + + + We uncommiserate pass into the night + From the loud banquet, and departing leave + A tremor in men's memories, faint and sweet + And frail as music. Features of our face, + The tones of the voice, the touch of the loved hand, + Perish and vanish, one by one, from earth: + Meanwhile, in the hall of song, the multitude + Applauds the new performer. One, perchance, + One ultimate survivor lingers on, + And smiles, and to his ancient heart recalls + The long forgotten. Ere the morrow die, + He too, returning, through the curtain comes, + And the new age forgets us and goes on. + + + + +XLII + + + Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, + Say, could that lad be I? + Merry of soul he sailed on a day + Over the sea to Skye. + + Mull was astern, Rum on the port, + Eigg on the starboard bow; + Glory of youth glowed in his soul: + Where is that glory now? + + Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, + Say, could that lad be I? + Merry of soul he sailed on a day + Over the sea to Skye. + + Give me again all that was there, + Give me the sun that shone! + Give me the eyes, give me the soul, + Give me the lad that's gone! + + Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, + Say, could that lad be I? + Merry of soul he sailed on a day + Over the sea to Skye. + + Billow and breeze, islands and seas, + Mountains of rain and sun, + All that was good, all that was fair, + All that was me is gone. + + + + +XLIII--TO S. R. CROCKETT +(_On receiving a Dedication_) + + + Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying, + Blows the wind on the moors to-day and now, + Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are crying, + My heart remembers how! + + Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert places, + Standing stones on the vacant wine-red moor, + Hills of sheep, and the howes of the silent vanished races, + And winds, austere and pure: + + Be it granted me to behold you again in dying, + Hills of home! and to hear again the call; + Hear about the graves of the martyrs the peewees crying, + And hear no more at all. + +_Vailima_. + + + + +XLIV--EVENSONG + + + The embers of the day are red + Beyond the murky hill. + The kitchen smokes: the bed + In the darkling house is spread: + The great sky darkens overhead, + And the great woods are shrill. + So far have I been led, + Lord, by Thy will: + So far I have followed, Lord, and wondered still. + + The breeze from the enbalmed land + Blows sudden toward the shore, + And claps my cottage door. + I hear the signal, Lord--I understand. + The night at Thy command + Comes. I will eat and sleep and will not question more. + +_Vailima_. + + + + +Footnotes + + +{44} This is the same Princess Moe whose charms of person and +disposition have been recorded by the late Lord Pembroke in _South Sea +Bubbles_, and by M. Pierre Loti in the _Mariage de Loti_. + +{45} The yacht _Casco_ had been so called by the people of Fakarava in +the Paumotus. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS OF TRAVEL*** + + +******* This file should be named 487.txt or 487.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/8/487 + + + +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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She rested by the Broken Brook +VI. The infinite shining heavens +VII. Plain as the glistering planets shine +VIII. To you, let snows and roses +IX. Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams +X. I know not how it is with you +XI. I will make you brooches and toys for your delight +XII. WE HAVE LOVED OF YORE - Berried brake and reedy island +XIII. MATTER TRIUMPHANS - Son of my woman's body, you go, to + the drum and fife +XIV. Bright is the ring of words +XV. In the highlands, in the country places +XVI. Home no more home to me, wither must I wander? +XVII. WINTER - In rigorous hours, when down the iron lane +XVIII. The stormy evening closes now in vain +XIX. TO DR. HAKE - In the beloved hour that ushers day +XX. TO - I knew thee strong and quiet like the hills +XXI. The morning drum-call on my eager ear +XXII. I have trod the upward and downward slope +XXIII. He hears with gladdened heart the thunder +XXIV. Farewell, fair day and fading light! +XXV. IF THIS WERE FAITH - God, if this were enough +XXVI. MY WIFE - Trusty, dusky, vivid, true +XXVII. TO THE MUSE - Resign the rhapsody, the dream +XXVIII. TO AN ISLAND PRINCESS - Since long ago, a child at home +XXIX. TO KALAKAUA - The Sliver Ship, my King - that was her name +XXX. TO PRINCESS KAIULANI - Forth form her land to mine she goes +XXXI. TO MOTHER MARYANNE - To see the infinite pity of this place +XXXII. IN MEMORIAM E. H. - I knew a silver head was bright beyond compare +XXXIII. TO MY WIFE - Long must elapse ere you behold again +XXXIV. TO MY OLD FAMILIARS - Do you remember - can we e'er forget? +XXXV. The tropics vanish, and meseems that I +XXXVI. TO S. C. - I heard the pulse of the besieging sea +XXXVII. THE HOUSE OF TEMBINOKA - Let us, who part like brothers, part + like bards +XXXVIII. THE WOODMAN - In all the grove, not stream nor bird +XXXIX. TROPIC RAIN - As the single pang of the blow, when the metal is + mingled well +XL. AN END OF TRAVEL - Let now your soul in this substantial world +XLI. We uncommiserate pass into the night +XLII. Sing me a song of a lad that is gone +XLIII. TO S. R. CROCKETT - Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and rain + are flying +XLIV. EVENSONG - The embers of the day are red + + +I - THE VAGABOND (To an air of Schubert) + + +GIVE to me the life I love, +Let the lave go by me, +Give the jolly heaven above +And the byway nigh me. +Bed in the bush with stars to see, +Bread I dip in the river - +There's the life for a man like me, +There's the life for ever. + +Let the blow fall soon or late, +Let what will be o'er me; +Give the face of earth around +And the road before me. +Wealth I seek not, hope nor love, +Nor a friend to know me; +All I seek, the heaven above +And the road below me. + +Or let autumn fall on me +Where afield I linger, +Silencing the bird on tree, +Biting the blue finger. +White as meal the frosty field - +Warm the fireside haven - +Not to autumn will I yield, +Not to winter even! + +Let the blow fall soon or late, +Let what will be o'er me; +Give the face of earth around, +And the road before me. +Wealth I ask not, hope nor love, +Nor a friend to know me; +All I ask, the heaven above +And the road below me. + + +II - YOUTH AND LOVE - I + + +ONCE only by the garden gate +Our lips we joined and parted. +I must fulfil an empty fate +And travel the uncharted. + +Hail and farewell! I must arise, +Leave here the fatted cattle, +And paint on foreign lands and skies +My Odyssey of battle. + +The untented Kosmos my abode, +I pass, a wilful stranger: +My mistress still the open road +And the bright eyes of danger. + +Come ill or well, the cross, the crown, +The rainbow or the thunder, +I fling my soul and body down +For God to plough them under. + + +III - YOUTH AND LOVE - II + + +To the heart of youth the world is a highwayside. +Passing for ever, he fares; and on either hand, +Deep in the gardens golden pavilions hide, +Nestle in orchard bloom, and far on the level land +Call him with lighted lamp in the eventide. + +Thick as the stars at night when the moon is down, +Pleasures assail him. He to his nobler fate +Fares; and but waves a hand as he passes on, +Cries but a wayside word to her at the garden gate, +Sings but a boyish stave and his face is gone. + + +IV + + +IN dreams, unhappy, I behold you stand +As heretofore: +The unremembered tokens in your hand +Avail no more. + +No more the morning glow, no more the grace, +Enshrines, endears. +Cold beats the light of time upon your face +And shows your tears. + +He came and went. Perchance you wept a while +And then forgot. +Ah me! but he that left you with a smile +Forgets you not. + + +V + + +SHE rested by the Broken Brook, +She drank of Weary Well, +She moved beyond my lingering look, +Ah, whither none can tell! + +She came, she went. In other lands, +Perchance in fairer skies, +Her hands shall cling with other hands, +Her eyes to other eyes. + +She vanished. In the sounding town, +Will she remember too? +Will she recall the eyes of brown +As I recall the blue? + + +VI + + +THE infinite shining heavens +Rose and I saw in the night +Uncountable angel stars +Showering sorrow and light. + +I saw them distant as heaven, +Dumb and shining and dead, +And the idle stars of the night +Were dearer to me than bread. + +Night after night in my sorrow +The stars stood over the sea, +Till lo! I looked in the dusk +And a star had come down to me. + + +VII + + +PLAIN as the glistering planets shine +When winds have cleaned the skies, +Her love appeared, appealed for mine, +And wantoned in her eyes. + +Clear as the shining tapers burned +On Cytherea's shrine, +Those brimming, lustrous beauties turned, +And called and conquered mine. + +The beacon-lamp that Hero lit +No fairer shone on sea, +No plainlier summoned will and wit, +Than hers encouraged me. + +I thrilled to feel her influence near, +I struck my flag at sight. +Her starry silence smote my ear +Like sudden drums at night. + +I ran as, at the cannon's roar, +The troops the ramparts man - +As in the holy house of yore +The willing Eli ran. + +Here, lady, lo! that servant stands +You picked from passing men, +And should you need nor heart nor hands +He bows and goes again. + + +VIII + + +TO you, let snow and roses +And golden locks belong. +These are the world's enslavers, +Let these delight the throng. +For her of duskier lustre +Whose favour still I wear, +The snow be in her kirtle, +The rose be in her hair! + +The hue of highland rivers +Careering, full and cool, +From sable on to golden, +From rapid on to pool - +The hue of heather-honey, +The hue of honey-bees, +Shall tinge her golden shoulder, +Shall gild her tawny knees. + + +IX + + +LET Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams, +Beauty awake from rest! +Let Beauty awake +For Beauty's sake +In the hour when the birds awake in the brake +And the stars are bright in the west! + +Let Beauty awake in the eve from the slumber of day, +Awake in the crimson eve! +In the day's dusk end +When the shades ascend, +Let her wake to the kiss of a tender friend +To render again and receive! + + +X + + +I KNOW not how it is with you - +I love the first and last, +The whole field of the present view, +The whole flow of the past. + +One tittle of the things that are, +Nor you should change nor I - +One pebble in our path - one star +In all our heaven of sky. + +Our lives, and every day and hour, +One symphony appear: +One road, one garden - every flower +And every bramble dear. + + +XI + + +I WILL make you brooches and toys for your delight +Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night. +I will make a palace fit for you and me +Of green days in forests and blue days at sea. + +I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room, +Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom, +And you shall wash your linen and keep your body white +In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night. + +And this shall be for music when no one else is near, +The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear! +That only I remember, that only you admire, +Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire. + + +XII - WE HAVE LOVED OF YORE (To an air of Diabelli) + + +BERRIED brake and reedy island, +Heaven below, and only heaven above, +Through the sky's inverted azure +Softly swam the boat that bore our love. +Bright were your eyes as the day; +Bright ran the stream, +Bright hung the sky above. +Days of April, airs of Eden, +How the glory died through golden hours, +And the shining moon arising, +How the boat drew homeward filled with flowers! +Bright were your eyes in the night: +We have lived, my love - +O, we have loved, my love. + +Frost has bound our flowing river, +Snow has whitened all our island brake, +And beside the winter fagot +Joan and Darby doze and dream and wake. +Still, in the river of dreams +Swims the boat of love - +Hark! chimes the falling oar! +And again in winter evens +When on firelight dreaming fancy feeds, +In those ears of aged lovers +Love's own river warbles in the reeds. +Love still the past, O my love! +We have lived of yore, +O, we have loved of yore. + + +XIII - MATER TRIUMPHANS + + +SON of my woman's body, you go, to the drum and fife, +To taste the colour of love and the other side of life - +From out of the dainty the rude, the strong from out of the frail, +Eternally through the ages from the female comes the male. + +The ten fingers and toes, and the shell-like nail on each, +The eyes blind as gems and the tongue attempting speech; +Impotent hands in my bosom, and yet they shall wield the sword! +Drugged with slumber and milk, you wait the day of the Lord. + +Infant bridegroom, uncrowned king, unanointed priest, +Soldier, lover, explorer, I see you nuzzle the breast. +You that grope in my bosom shall load the ladies with rings, +You, that came forth through the doors, shall burst the doors of kings. + + +XIV + + +BRIGHT is the ring of words +When the right man rings them, +Fair the fall of songs +When the singer sings them. +Still they are carolled and said - +On wings they are carried - +After the singer is dead +And the maker buried. + +Low as the singer lies +In the field of heather, +Songs of his fashion bring +The swains together. +And when the west is red +With the sunset embers, +The lover lingers and sings +And the maid remembers. + + +XV + + +IN the highlands, in the country places, +Where the old plain men have rosy faces, +And the young fair maidens +Quiet eyes; +Where essential silence cheers and blesses, +And for ever in the hill-recesses +Her more lovely music +Broods and dies. + +O to mount again where erst I haunted; +Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted, +And the low green meadows +Bright with sward; +And when even dies, the million-tinted, +And the night has come, and planets glinted, +Lo, the valley hollow +Lamp-bestarred! + +O to dream, O to awake and wander +There, and with delight to take and render, +Through the trance of silence, +Quiet breath; +Lo! for there, among the flowers and grasses, +Only the mightier movement sounds and passes; +Only winds and rivers, +Life and death. + + +XVI (To the tune of Wandering Willie) + + +HOME no more home to me, whither must I wander? +Hunger my driver, I go where I must. +Cold blows the winter wind over hill and heather; +Thick drives the rain, and my roof is in the dust. +Loved of wise men was the shade of my roof-tree. +The true word of welcome was spoken in the door - +Dear days of old, with the faces in the firelight, +Kind folks of old, you come again no more. + +Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces, +Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child. +Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland; +Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild. +Now, when day dawns on the brow of the moorland, +Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold. +Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed, +The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old. + +Spring shall come, come again, calling up the moorfowl, +Spring shall bring the sun and rain, bring the bees and +flowers; +Red shall the heather bloom over hill and valley, +Soft flow the stream through the even-flowing hours; +Fair the day shine as it shone on my childhood - +Fair shine the day on the house with open door; +Birds come and cry there and twitter in the chimney - +But I go for ever and come again no more. + + +XVII - WINTER + + +IN rigorous hours, when down the iron lane +The redbreast looks in vain +For hips and haws, +Lo, shining flowers upon my window-pane +The silver pencil of the winter draws. + +When all the snowy hill +And the bare woods are still; +When snipes are silent in the frozen bogs, +And all the garden garth is whelmed in mire, +Lo, by the hearth, the laughter of the logs - +More fair than roses, lo, the flowers of fire! + + +Saranac Lake. + + +XVIII + + +THE stormy evening closes now in vain, +Loud wails the wind and beats the driving rain, +While here in sheltered house +With fire-ypainted walls, +I hear the wind abroad, +I hark the calling squalls - +'Blow, blow,' I cry, 'you burst your cheeks in vain! +Blow, blow,' I cry, 'my love is home again!' + +Yon ship you chase perchance but yesternight +Bore still the precious freight of my delight, +That here in sheltered house +With fire-ypainted walls, +Now hears the wind abroad, +Now harks the calling squalls. +'Blow, blow,' I cry, 'in vain you rouse the sea, +My rescued sailor shares the fire with me!' + + +XIX - TO DR. HAKE (On receiving a Copy of Verses) + + +IN the beloved hour that ushers day, +In the pure dew, under the breaking grey, +One bird, ere yet the woodland quires awake, +With brief reveille summons all the brake: +Chirp, chirp, it goes; nor waits an answer long; +And that small signal fills the grove with song. + +Thus on my pipe I breathed a strain or two; +It scarce was music, but 'twas all I knew. +It was not music, for I lacked the art, +Yet what but frozen music filled my heart? + +Chirp, chirp, I went, nor hoped a nobler strain; +But Heaven decreed I should not pipe in vain, +For, lo! not far from there, in secret dale, +All silent, sat an ancient nightingale. +My sparrow notes he heard; thereat awoke; +And with a tide of song his silence broke. + + +XX - TO - + + +I KNEW thee strong and quiet like the hills; +I knew thee apt to pity, brave to endure, +In peace or war a Roman full equipt; +And just I knew thee, like the fabled kings +Who by the loud sea-shore gave judgment forth, +From dawn to eve, bearded and few of words. +What, what, was I to honour thee? A child; +A youth in ardour but a child in strength, +Who after virtue's golden chariot-wheels +Runs ever panting, nor attains the goal. +So thought I, and was sorrowful at heart. + +Since then my steps have visited that flood +Along whose shore the numerous footfalls cease, +The voices and the tears of life expire. +Thither the prints go down, the hero's way +Trod large upon the sand, the trembling maid's: +Nimrod that wound his trumpet in the wood, +And the poor, dreaming child, hunter of flowers, +That here his hunting closes with the great: +So one and all go down, nor aught returns. + +For thee, for us, the sacred river waits, +For me, the unworthy, thee, the perfect friend; +There Blame desists, there his unfaltering dogs +He from the chase recalls, and homeward rides; +Yet Praise and Love pass over and go in. +So when, beside that margin, I discard +My more than mortal weakness, and with thee +Through that still land unfearing I advance: +If then at all we keep the touch of joy +Thou shalt rejoice to find me altered - I, +O Felix, to behold thee still unchanged. + + +XXI + + +THE morning drum-call on my eager ear +Thrills unforgotten yet; the morning dew +Lies yet undried along my field of noon. + +But now I pause at whiles in what I do, +And count the bell, and tremble lest I hear +(My work untrimmed) the sunset gun too soon. + + +XXII + + +I HAVE trod the upward and the downward slope; +I have endured and done in days before; +I have longed for all, and bid farewell to hope; +And I have lived and loved, and closed the door. + + +XXIII + + +HE hears with gladdened heart the thunder +Peal, and loves the falling dew; +He knows the earth above and under - +Sits and is content to view. + +He sits beside the dying ember, +God for hope and man for friend, +Content to see, glad to remember, +Expectant of the certain end. + + +XXIV + + +FAREWELL, fair day and fading light! +The clay-born here, with westward sight, +Marks the huge sun now downward soar. +Farewell. We twain shall meet no more. + +Farewell. I watch with bursting sigh +My late contemned occasion die. +I linger useless in my tent: +Farewell, fair day, so foully spent! + +Farewell, fair day. If any God +At all consider this poor clod, +He who the fair occasion sent +Prepared and placed the impediment. + +Let him diviner vengeance take - +Give me to sleep, give me to wake +Girded and shod, and bid me play +The hero in the coming day! + + +XXV - IF THIS WERE FAITH + + +GOD, if this were enough, +That I see things bare to the buff +And up to the buttocks in mire; +That I ask nor hope nor hire, +Nut in the husk, +Nor dawn beyond the dusk, +Nor life beyond death: +God, if this were faith? + +Having felt thy wind in my face +Spit sorrow and disgrace, +Having seen thine evil doom +In Golgotha and Khartoum, +And the brutes, the work of thine hands, +Fill with injustice lands +And stain with blood the sea: +If still in my veins the glee +Of the black night and the sun +And the lost battle, run: +If, an adept, +The iniquitous lists I still accept +With joy, and joy to endure and be withstood, +And still to battle and perish for a dream of good: +God, if that were enough? + +If to feel, in the ink of the slough, +And the sink of the mire, +Veins of glory and fire +Run through and transpierce and transpire, +And a secret purpose of glory in every part, +And the answering glory of battle fill my heart; +To thrill with the joy of girded men +To go on for ever and fail and go on again, +And be mauled to the earth and arise, +And contend for the shade of a word and a thing not seen with +the eyes: +With the half of a broken hope for a pillow at night +That somehow the right is the right +And the smooth shall bloom from the rough: +Lord, if that were enough? + + +XXVI - MY WIFE + + +TRUSTY, dusky, vivid, true, +With eyes of gold and bramble-dew, +Steel-true and blade-straight, +The great artificer +Made my mate. + +Honour, anger, valour, fire; +A love that life could never tire, +Death quench or evil stir, +The mighty master +Gave to her. + +Teacher, tender, comrade, wife, +A fellow-farer true through life, +Heart-whole and soul-free +The august father +Gave to me. + + +XXVII - TO THE MUSE + + +RESIGN the rhapsody, the dream, +To men of larger reach; +Be ours the quest of a plain theme, +The piety of speech. + +As monkish scribes from morning break +Toiled till the close of light, +Nor thought a day too long to make +One line or letter bright: + +We also with an ardent mind, +Time, wealth, and fame forgot, +Our glory in our patience find +And skim, and skim the pot: + +Till last, when round the house we hear +The evensong of birds, +One corner of blue heaven appear +In our clear well of words. + +Leave, leave it then, muse of my heart! +Sans finish and sans frame, +Leave unadorned by needless art +The picture as it came. + + +XXVIII - TO AN ISLAND PRINCESS + + +SINCE long ago, a child at home, +I read and longed to rise and roam, +Where'er I went, whate'er I willed, +One promised land my fancy filled. +Hence the long roads my home I made; +Tossed much in ships; have often laid +Below the uncurtained sky my head, +Rain-deluged and wind-buffeted: +And many a thousand hills I crossed +And corners turned - Love's labour lost, +Till, Lady, to your isle of sun +I came, not hoping; and, like one +Snatched out of blindness, rubbed my eyes, +And hailed my promised land with cries. + +Yes, Lady, here I was at last; +Here found I all I had forecast: +The long roll of the sapphire sea +That keeps the land's virginity; +The stalwart giants of the wood +Laden with toys and flowers and food; +The precious forest pouring out +To compass the whole town about; +The town itself with streets of lawn, +Loved of the moon, blessed by the dawn, +Where the brown children all the day +Keep up a ceaseless noise of play, +Play in the sun, play in the rain, +Nor ever quarrel or complain; - +And late at night, in the woods of fruit, +Hark! do you hear the passing flute? + +I threw one look to either hand, +And knew I was in Fairyland. +And yet one point of being so +I lacked. For, Lady (as you know), +Whoever by his might of hand, +Won entrance into Fairyland, +Found always with admiring eyes +A Fairy princess kind and wise. +It was not long I waited; soon +Upon my threshold, in broad noon, +Gracious and helpful, wise and good, +The Fairy Princess Moe stood. + + +Tantira, Tahiti, Nov. 5, 1888. + + +XXIX - TO KALAKAUA (With a present of a Pearl) + + +THE Silver Ship, my King - that was her name +In the bright islands whence your fathers came - +The Silver Ship, at rest from winds and tides, +Below your palace in your harbour rides: +And the seafarers, sitting safe on shore, +Like eager merchants count their treasures o'er. +One gift they find, one strange and lovely thing, +Now doubly precious since it pleased a king. + +The right, my liege, is ancient as the lyre +For bards to give to kings what kings admire. +'Tis mine to offer for Apollo's sake; +And since the gift is fitting, yours to take. +To golden hands the golden pearl I bring: +The ocean jewel to the island king. + + +Honolulu, Feb. 3, 1889. + + +XXX - TO PRINCESS KAIULANI + + +[Written in April to Kaiulani in the April of her age; and at +Waikiki, within easy walk of Kaiulani's banyan! When she comes to my +land and her father's, and the rain beats upon the window (as I fear +it will), let her look at this page; it will be like a weed gathered +and pressed at home; and she will remember her own islands, and the +shadow of the mighty tree; and she will hear the peacocks screaming +in the dusk and the wind blowing in the palms; and she will think of +her father sitting there alone. - R. L. S.] + +FORTH from her land to mine she goes, +The island maid, the island rose, +Light of heart and bright of face: +The daughter of a double race. + +Her islands here, in Southern sun, +Shall mourn their Kaiulani gone, +And I, in her dear banyan shade, +Look vainly for my little maid. + +But our Scots islands far away +Shall glitter with unwonted day, +And cast for once their tempests by +To smile in Kaiulani's eye. + + +Honolulu. + + +XXXI - TO MOTHER MARYANNE + + +To see the infinite pity of this place, +The mangled limb, the devastated face, +The innocent sufferer smiling at the rod - +A fool were tempted to deny his God. +He sees, he shrinks. But if he gaze again, +Lo, beauty springing from the breast of pain! +He marks the sisters on the mournful shores; +And even a fool is silent and adores. + + +Guest House, Kalawao, Molokai. + + +XXXII - IN MEMORIAM E. H. + + +I KNEW a silver head was bright beyond compare, +I knew a queen of toil with a crown of silver hair. +Garland of valour and sorrow, of beauty and renown, +Life, that honours the brave, crowned her himself with the crown. + +The beauties of youth are frail, but this was a jewel of age. +Life, that delights in the brave, gave it himself for a gage. +Fair was the crown to behold, and beauty its poorest part - +At once the scar of the wound and the order pinned on the heart. + +The beauties of man are frail, and the silver lies in the dust, +And the queen that we call to mind sleeps with the brave and the just; +Sleeps with the weary at length; but, honoured and ever fair, +Shines in the eye of the mind the crown of the silver hair. + + +Honolulu. + + +XXXIII - TO MY WIFE (A Fragment) + + +LONG must elapse ere you behold again +Green forest frame the entry of the lane - +The wild lane with the bramble and the brier, +The year-old cart-tracks perfect in the mire, +The wayside smoke, perchance, the dwarfish huts, +And ramblers' donkey drinking from the ruts: - +Long ere you trace how deviously it leads, +Back from man's chimneys and the bleating meads +To the woodland shadow, to the sylvan hush, +When but the brooklet chuckles in the brush - +Back from the sun and bustle of the vale +To where the great voice of the nightingale +Fills all the forest like a single room, +And all the banks smell of the golden broom; +So wander on until the eve descends. +And back returning to your firelit friends, +You see the rosy sun, despoiled of light, +Hung, caught in thickets, like a schoolboy's kite. + +Here from the sea the unfruitful sun shall rise, +Bathe the bare deck and blind the unshielded eyes; +The allotted hours aloft shall wheel in vain +And in the unpregnant ocean plunge again. +Assault of squalls that mock the watchful guard, +And pluck the bursting canvas from the yard, +And senseless clamour of the calm, at night +Must mar your slumbers. By the plunging light, +In beetle-haunted, most unwomanly bower +Of the wild-swerving cabin, hour by hour . . . + + +Schooner 'Equator.' + + +XXXIV - TO MY OLD FAMILIARS + + +DO you remember - can we e'er forget? - +How, in the coiled-perplexities of youth, +In our wild climate, in our scowling town, +We gloomed and shivered, sorrowed, sobbed and feared? +The belching winter wind, the missile rain, +The rare and welcome silence of the snows, +The laggard morn, the haggard day, the night, +The grimy spell of the nocturnal town, +Do you remember? - Ah, could one forget! + +As when the fevered sick that all night long +Listed the wind intone, and hear at last +The ever-welcome voice of chanticleer +Sing in the bitter hour before the dawn, - +With sudden ardour, these desire the day: +So sang in the gloom of youth the bird of hope; +So we, exulting, hearkened and desired. +For lo! as in the palace porch of life +We huddled with chimeras, from within - +How sweet to hear! - the music swelled and fell, +And through the breach of the revolving doors +What dreams of splendour blinded us and fled! + +I have since then contended and rejoiced; +Amid the glories of the house of life +Profoundly entered, and the shrine beheld: +Yet when the lamp from my expiring eyes +Shall dwindle and recede, the voice of love +Fall insignificant on my closing ears, +What sound shall come but the old cry of the wind +In our inclement city? what return +But the image of the emptiness of youth, +Filled with the sound of footsteps and that voice +Of discontent and rapture and despair? +So, as in darkness, from the magic lamp, +The momentary pictures gleam and fade +And perish, and the night resurges - these +Shall I remember, and then all forget. + + +Apemama. + + +XXXV + + +THE tropics vanish, and meseems that I, +From Halkerside, from topmost Allermuir, +Or steep Caerketton, dreaming gaze again. +Far set in fields and woods, the town I see +Spring gallant from the shallows of her smoke, +Cragged, spired, and turreted, her virgin fort +Beflagged. About, on seaward-drooping hills, +New folds of city glitter. Last, the Forth +Wheels ample waters set with sacred isles, +And populous Fife smokes with a score of towns. + +There, on the sunny frontage of a hill, +Hard by the house of kings, repose the dead, +My dead, the ready and the strong of word. +Their works, the salt-encrusted, still survive; +The sea bombards their founded towers; the night +Thrills pierced with their strong lamps. The artificers, +One after one, here in this grated cell, +Where the rain erases, and the rust consumes, +Fell upon lasting silence. Continents +And continental oceans intervene; +A sea uncharted, on a lampless isle, +Environs and confines their wandering child +In vain. The voice of generations dead +Summons me, sitting distant, to arise, +My numerous footsteps nimbly to retrace, +And, all mutation over, stretch me down +In that denoted city of the dead. + + +Apemama. + + +XXXVI - TO S. C. + + +I HEARD the pulse of the besieging sea +Throb far away all night. I heard the wind +Fly crying and convulse tumultuous palms. +I rose and strolled. The isle was all bright sand, +And flailing fans and shadows of the palm; +The heaven all moon and wind and the blind vault; +The keenest planet slain, for Venus slept. + +The king, my neighbour, with his host of wives, +Slept in the precinct of the palisade; +Where single, in the wind, under the moon, +Among the slumbering cabins, blazed a fire, +Sole street-lamp and the only sentinel. + +To other lands and nights my fancy turned - +To London first, and chiefly to your house, +The many-pillared and the well-beloved. +There yearning fancy lighted; there again +In the upper room I lay, and heard far off +The unsleeping city murmur like a shell; +The muffled tramp of the Museum guard +Once more went by me; I beheld again +Lamps vainly brighten the dispeopled street; +Again I longed for the returning morn, +The awaking traffic, the bestirring birds, +The consentaneous trill of tiny song +That weaves round monumental cornices +A passing charm of beauty. Most of all, +For your light foot I wearied, and your knock +That was the glad reveille of my day. + +Lo, now, when to your task in the great house +At morning through the portico you pass, +One moment glance, where by the pillared wall +Far-voyaging island gods, begrimed with smoke, +Sit now unworshipped, the rude monument +Of faiths forgot and races undivined: +Sit now disconsolate, remembering well +The priest, the victim, and the songful crowd, +The blaze of the blue noon, and that huge voice, +Incessant, of the breakers on the shore. +As far as these from their ancestral shrine, +So far, so foreign, your divided friends +Wander, estranged in body, not in mind. + + +Apemama. + + +XXXVII - THE HOUSE OF TEMBINOKA + + +[At my departure from the island of Apemama, for which you will +look in vain in most atlases, the King and I agreed, since we both +set up to be in the poetical way, that we should celebrate our +separation in verse. Whether or not his Majesty has been true to his +bargain, the laggard posts of the Pacific may perhaps inform me in +six months, perhaps not before a year. The following lines represent +my part of the contract, and it is hoped, by their pictures of +strange manners, they may entertain a civilised audience. Nothing +throughout has been invented or exaggerated; the lady herein referred +to as the author's muse has confined herself to stringing into rhyme +facts or legends that I saw or heard during two months' residence +upon the island. - R. L. S.] + + +ENVOI + + +Let us, who part like brothers, part like bards; +And you in your tongue and measure, I in mine, +Our now division duly solemnise. +Unlike the strains, and yet the theme is one: +The strains unlike, and how unlike their fate! +You to the blinding palace-yard shall call +The prefect of the singers, and to him, +Listening devout, your valedictory verse +Deliver; he, his attribute fulfilled, +To the island chorus hand your measures on, +Wed now with harmony: so them, at last, +Night after night, in the open hall of dance, +Shall thirty matted men, to the clapped hand, +Intone and bray and bark. Unfortunate! +Paper and print alone shall honour mine. + + +THE SONG + + +LET now the King his ear arouse +And toss the bosky ringlets from his brows, +The while, our bond to implement, +My muse relates and praises his descent. + +I + +Bride of the shark, her valour first I sing +Who on the lone seas quickened of a King. +She, from the shore and puny homes of men, +Beyond the climber's sea-discerning ken, +Swam, led by omens; and devoid of fear, +Beheld her monstrous paramour draw near. +She gazed; all round her to the heavenly pale, +The simple sea was void of isle or sail - +Sole overhead the unsparing sun was reared - +When the deep bubbled and the brute appeared. +But she, secure in the decrees of fate, +Made strong her bosom and received the mate, +And, men declare, from that marine embrace +Conceived the virtues of a stronger race. + +II + +Her stern descendant next I praise, +Survivor of a thousand frays: - +In the hall of tongues who ruled the throng; +Led and was trusted by the strong; +And when spears were in the wood, +Like a tower of vantage stood: - +Whom, not till seventy years had sped, +Unscarred of breast, erect of head, +Still light of step, still bright of look, +The hunter, Death, had overtook. + +III + +His sons, the brothers twain, I sing, +Of whom the elder reigned a King. +No Childeric he, yet much declined +From his rude sire's imperious mind, +Until his day came when he died, +He lived, he reigned, he versified. +But chiefly him I celebrate +That was the pillar of the state, +Ruled, wise of word and bold of mien, +The peaceful and the warlike scene; +And played alike the leader's part +In lawful and unlawful art. +His soldiers with emboldened ears +Heard him laugh among the spears. +He could deduce from age to age +The web of island parentage; +Best lay the rhyme, best lead the dance, +For any festal circumstance: +And fitly fashion oar and boat, +A palace or an armour coat. +None more availed than he to raise +The strong, suffumigating blaze, +Or knot the wizard leaf: none more, +Upon the untrodden windward shore +Of the isle, beside the beating main, +To cure the sickly and constrain, +With muttered words and waving rods, +The gibbering and the whistling gods. +But he, though thus with hand and head +He ruled, commanded, charmed, and led, +And thus in virtue and in might +Towered to contemporary sight - +Still in fraternal faith and love, +Remained below to reach above, +Gave and obeyed the apt command, +Pilot and vassal of the land. + +IV + +My Tembinok' from men like these +Inherited his palaces, +His right to rule, his powers of mind, +His cocoa-islands sea-enshrined. +Stern bearer of the sword and whip, +A master passed in mastership, +He learned, without the spur of need, +To write, to cipher, and to read; +From all that touch on his prone shore +Augments his treasury of lore, +Eager in age as erst in youth +To catch an art, to learn a truth, +To paint on the internal page +A clearer picture of the age. +His age, you say? But ah, not so! +In his lone isle of long ago, +A royal Lady of Shalott, +Sea-sundered, he beholds it not; +He only hears it far away. +The stress of equatorial day +He suffers; he records the while +The vapid annals of the isle; +Slaves bring him praise of his renown, +Or cackle of the palm-tree town; +The rarer ship and the rare boat +He marks; and only hears remote, +Where thrones and fortunes rise and reel, +The thunder of the turning wheel. + +V + +For the unexpected tears he shed +At my departing, may his lion head +Not whiten, his revolving years +No fresh occasion minister of tears; +At book or cards, at work or sport, +Him may the breeze across the palace court +For ever fan; and swelling near +For ever the loud song divert his ear. + + +Schooner 'Equator,' at Sea. + + +XXXVIII - THE WOODMAN + + +IN all the grove, nor stream nor bird +Nor aught beside my blows was heard, +And the woods wore their noonday dress - +The glory of their silentness. +From the island summit to the seas, +Trees mounted, and trees drooped, and trees +Groped upward in the gaps. The green +Inarboured talus and ravine +By fathoms. By the multitude +The rugged columns of the wood +And bunches of the branches stood; +Thick as a mob, deep as a sea, +And silent as eternity. +With lowered axe, with backward head, +Late from this scene my labourer fled, +And with a ravelled tale to tell, +Returned. Some denizen of hell, +Dead man or disinvested god, +Had close behind him peered and trod, +And triumphed when he turned to flee. +How different fell the lines with me! +Whose eye explored the dim arcade +Impatient of the uncoming shade - +Shy elf, or dryad pale and cold, +Or mystic lingerer from of old: +Vainly. The fair and stately things, +Impassive as departed kings, +All still in the wood's stillness stood, +And dumb. The rooted multitude +Nodded and brooded, bloomed and dreamed, +Unmeaning, undivined. It seemed +No other art, no hope, they knew, +Than clutch the earth and seek the blue. +'Mid vegetable king and priest +And stripling, I (the only beast) +Was at the beast's work, killing; hewed +The stubborn roots across, bestrewed +The glebe with the dislustred leaves, +And bade the saplings fall in sheaves; +Bursting across the tangled math +A ruin that I called a path, +A Golgotha that, later on, +When rains had watered, and suns shone, +And seeds enriched the place, should bear +And be called garden. Here and there, +I spied and plucked by the green hair +A foe more resolute to live, +The toothed and killing sensitive. +He, semi-conscious, fled the attack; +He shrank and tucked his branches back; +And straining by his anchor-strand, +Captured and scratched the rooting hand. +I saw him crouch, I felt him bite; +And straight my eyes were touched with sight. +I saw the wood for what it was: +The lost and the victorious cause, +The deadly battle pitched in line, +Saw silent weapons cross and shine: +Silent defeat, silent assault, +A battle and a burial vault. + +Thick round me in the teeming mud +Brier and fern strove to the blood: +The hooked liana in his gin +Noosed his reluctant neighbours in: +There the green murderer throve and spread, +Upon his smothering victims fed, +And wantoned on his climbing coil. +Contending roots fought for the soil +Like frightened demons: with despair +Competing branches pushed for air. +Green conquerors from overhead +Bestrode the bodies of their dead: +The Caesars of the sylvan field, +Unused to fail, foredoomed to yield: +For in the groins of branches, lo! +The cancers of the orchid grow. +Silent as in the listed ring +Two chartered wrestlers strain and cling; +Dumb as by yellow Hooghly's side +The suffocating captives died; +So hushed the woodland warfare goes +Unceasing; and the silent foes +Grapple and smother, strain and clasp +Without a cry, without a gasp. +Here also sound thy fans, O God, +Here too thy banners move abroad: +Forest and city, sea and shore, +And the whole earth, thy threshing-floor! +The drums of war, the drums of peace, +Roll through our cities without cease, +And all the iron halls of life +Ring with the unremitting strife. + +The common lot we scarce perceive. +Crowds perish, we nor mark nor grieve: +The bugle calls - we mourn a few! +What corporal's guard at Waterloo? +What scanty hundreds more or less +In the man-devouring Wilderness? +What handful bled on Delhi ridge? +- See, rather, London, on thy bridge +The pale battalions trample by, +Resolved to slay, resigned to die. +Count, rather, all the maimed and dead +In the unbrotherly war of bread. +See, rather, under sultrier skies +What vegetable Londons rise, + +And teem, and suffer without sound: +Or in your tranquil garden ground, +Contented, in the falling gloom, +Saunter and see the roses bloom. +That these might live, what thousands died! +All day the cruel hoe was plied; +The ambulance barrow rolled all day; +Your wife, the tender, kind, and gay, +Donned her long gauntlets, caught the spud, +And bathed in vegetable blood; +And the long massacre now at end, +See! where the lazy coils ascend, +See, where the bonfire sputters red +At even, for the innocent dead. + +Why prate of peace? when, warriors all, +We clank in harness into hall, +And ever bare upon the board +Lies the necessary sword. +In the green field or quiet street, +Besieged we sleep, beleaguered eat; +Labour by day and wake o' nights, +In war with rival appetites. +The rose on roses feeds; the lark +On larks. The sedentary clerk +All morning with a diligent pen +Murders the babes of other men; +And like the beasts of wood and park, +Protects his whelps, defends his den. + +Unshamed the narrow aim I hold; +I feed my sheep, patrol my fold; +Breathe war on wolves and rival flocks, +A pious outlaw on the rocks +Of God and morning; and when time +Shall bow, or rivals break me, climb +Where no undubbed civilian dares, +In my war harness, the loud stairs +Of honour; and my conqueror +Hail me a warrior fallen in war. + + +Vailima. + + +XXXIX - TROPIC RAIN + + +AS the single pang of the blow, when the metal is mingled well, +Rings and lives and resounds in all the bounds of the bell, +So the thunder above spoke with a single tongue, +So in the heart of the mountain the sound of it rumbled and clung. + +Sudden the thunder was drowned - quenched was the levin light - +And the angel-spirit of rain laughed out loud in the night. +Loud as the maddened river raves in the cloven glen, +Angel of rain! you laughed and leaped on the roofs of men; + +And the sleepers sprang in their beds, and joyed and feared as you fell. +You struck, and my cabin quailed; the roof of it roared like a bell. +You spoke, and at once the mountain shouted and shook with brooks. +You ceased, and the day returned, rosy, with virgin looks. + +And methought that beauty and terror are only one, not two; +And the world has room for love, and death, and thunder, and dew; +And all the sinews of hell slumber in summer air; +And the face of God is a rock, but the face of the rock is fair. +Beneficent streams of tears flow at the finger of pain; +And out of the cloud that smites, beneficent rivers of rain. + + +Vailima. + + +XL - AN END OF TRAVEL + + +LET now your soul in this substantial world +Some anchor strike. Be here the body moored; - +This spectacle immutably from now +The picture in your eye; and when time strikes, +And the green scene goes on the instant blind - +The ultimate helpers, where your horse to-day +Conveyed you dreaming, bear your body dead. + + +Vailima + + +XLI + + +WE uncommiserate pass into the night +From the loud banquet, and departing leave +A tremor in men's memories, faint and sweet +And frail as music. Features of our face, +The tones of the voice, the touch of the loved hand, +Perish and vanish, one by one, from earth: +Meanwhile, in the hall of song, the multitude +Applauds the new performer. One, perchance, +One ultimate survivor lingers on, +And smiles, and to his ancient heart recalls +The long forgotten. Ere the morrow die, +He too, returning, through the curtain comes, +And the new age forgets us and goes on. + + +XLII + + +SING me a song of a lad that is gone, +Say, could that lad be I? +Merry of soul he sailed on a day +Over the sea to Skye. + +Mull was astern, Rum on the port, +Eigg on the starboard bow; +Glory of youth glowed in his soul: +Where is that glory now? + +Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, +Say, could that lad be I? +Merry of soul he sailed on a day +Over the sea to Skye. + +Give me again all that was there, +Give me the sun that shone! +Give me the eyes, give me the soul, +Give me the lad that's gone! + +Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, +Say, could that lad be I? +Merry of soul he sailed on a day +Over the sea to Skye. + +Billow and breeze, islands and seas, +Mountains of rain and sun, +All that was good, all that was fair, +All that was me is gone. + + +XLIII - TO S. R. CROCKETT (On receiving a Dedication) + + +BLOWS the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying, +Blows the wind on the moors to-day and now, +Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are crying, +My heart remembers how! + +Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert places, +Standing stones on the vacant wine-red moor, +Hills of sheep, and the howes of the silent vanished races, +And winds, austere and pure: + +Be it granted me to behold you again in dying, +Hills of home! and to hear again the call; +Hear about the graves of the martyrs the peewees crying, +And hear no more at all. + + +Vailima. + + +XLIV - EVENSONG + + +THE embers of the day are red +Beyond the murky hill. +The kitchen smokes: the bed +In the darkling house is spread: +The great sky darkens overhead, +And the great woods are shrill. +So far have I been led, +Lord, by Thy will: +So far I have followed, Lord, and wondered still. + +The breeze from the enbalmed land +Blows sudden toward the shore, +And claps my cottage door. +I hear the signal, Lord - I understand. +The night at Thy command +Comes. I will eat and sleep and will not question more. + + +Vailima. + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg eText Songs of Travel and Other Verses + + diff --git a/old/strvl10.zip b/old/strvl10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..390f3b7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/strvl10.zip |
