l*KilIT\ LIBRARY UNlveRSinr Of / IA^/ V x=/^ Y^tje^^ ,^ DRAKE IN CALIFORNIA BALLADS AND POEMS DRAKE IN CALIFORNIA BALLADS AND POEMS BY HERMAN SCHEFFAUER AUTHOR OF LOOMS OF LIFE," "THE MASQUE OF ELEMENTS, ETC. LONDON A. C. FIFIELD 13 CLIFFORD S INN, B.C. 1912 MAIN LIBRARY Add l GIFT PRINTED BY WILLIAM BRENDON AND^ON, LTD. PLYMOUTH P7 WVL TO JAMES DUVAL PHELAN OF SAN FRANCISCO CALIFORNIA 807 8 Avowals English Edition of the Works of Friedrich Nietzsche, for his permission to reprint my trans lations of four poems by that lofty and Luciferian philosopher. HERMAN SCHEFFAUER BANK POINT, HIGHGATE, LONDON, N. CONTENTS BALLADS PAGE 1. The Ballad of the Battlefield . . . 13 2. Drake in California . . . 17 3. Mary of Milrone . . . .23 4. The Ballad of the Friar . . .29 5. Ann o Dreams , . 36 6. The Ballad of the Leper . . . 42 7. Sea Changes . . . . 45 8. The Chant of Man and Woman . . 47 9. The Prayer of Beggarman Death . -50 10. The Viking s Death Song . . .53 1 1 . The Sunken Galleon . . . -55 POEMS 12. Solar Magnificat . . . .61 13. The Shriving of the Snow . . -63 14. The Secret Theatre . . . 64 15. The Red Sentry . . . 66 16. The Coming of the Comet , . . 68 17. The Invader of the Night . . 70 9 io Contents POEMS continued PAGE 1 8. Dawn over a Metropolis . . . 72 19. The Sea Slave . . . -73 20. A Wingless One . . . . 76 21. The Birth of Births . . . . 77 FOUR TRANSLATIONS FROM NIETZSCHE I. To Melancholy . . . . 81 II. After a Night Storm . . . . 84 III. Autumn . . . . . 86 IV. In Lonesomeness 88 BALLADS THE BALLAD OF THE BATTLEFIELD "PHREE were the terrible things that spake, and the three were stripped and stark, One from the sea and two from its shore, out of the thunder and dark ; And the voice of him that was eldest brake over the world s rough rim Over the world s rough rind and rim, my heart, my heart went forth to him : I " Once was I father of four good man of a good lier wife ! A ball in the brain makes all in vain hope, happi ness and life ! Now on the hearth of Hell I hear, and the hear ing is half HelPs pain ; He died for his country, a hero, he sleeps with the nobly slain ! Hollow, hollow that solace a lie that conquerors tell! B 13 14 The Ballad of the Battlefield Hell is my country, ye patriots, and no heroes have honour in Hell. But on Earth the blood of the slaughtered the crimes of the State atones, Lost, lost to me, as I to you my Mary, my little ones ! " The red hands shall be dead hands, the red cheeks shall be grey, Yesterday all red with life, white with death to-day. What is a soldier s wife ? No more than a soldier s life ! For his red hands scon are dead hands, his red cheeks soon are grey. II " And I was the only son of two greyheads left behind Even I, whose naked ribs make a moaning in the wind. Deep sank the sword of the foeman and the cords of my heart laid bare, But my parents wound no steel can sound misery, woe and despair ! I gat me to the battle with many and many did die, Whiles they who scribble with pens saw no wound and heard no cry. The Ballad of the Battlefield 15 Where the sword or the shot slays one, the pen slays ninety-and-nine In the sight of men I was slain by the pen, father and mother mine ! " The red hands shall be dead hands, the red cheeks shall be grey, Testerday all red with life, white with death to-day. And you with the only son, Where is that only one? Say his red hands now are dead hands, his red cheeks now are grey. Ill " Much have ye lost, my comrades, but I have lost more than all The beloved whereof I was well beloved worm wood and ashes and gall ! Ye have lost what ye once possessed, and your memory slakes your pain, But I have lost what I never possessed Oh, surely twas mine to gain ! But let her wait and let her weep she weeps not, she waits not alone ! On the enemy s side I made many a bride who shall no bridegroom own. 1 6 The Ballad of the Battlefield Ye makers of war and your masters, take the curse re-arisen in me, Take the curse from the lips of my loved one, and the curse of the millions to be ! " The red hands must be dead hands, the red cheeks must be grey, Yesterday all red with life, white with death to-day. Te on whom sorrow doth fall ^ Judge three and be judges of all, For their red hands must be dead hands, their red cheeks must be grey. Drake in California 17 DRAKE IN CALIFORNIA 11 YK/ E have broached the North to the forty- first ; Frore is our canvas with ice and mist, Our hull with plunder is weighed to list, And our hearts are even as fain to burst For love of the women we once have kisst. " Yea, ruth hath fretted the souls of all For a dusker sky and a chalk-white shore j Our hearts for the Devon earth grow sore, And for England that holdeth her sons in thrall Forever Oh ! shall we see England more ? " We pray you that sailed us to victory, Good Master Drake, put about again ! We ll buffet the Cape and the belling main And the flaws of the old Atlantic sea, And blow us a path through the fleets of Spain ! " The bearded corsair with clouded eye Bade luff the weedy and cumbrous prow Of the Golden Hmde to the South, and now Down the coast of a wondrous land they ply As the worn sails loom over stern and bow. 1 8 Drake in California Quoth Drake : " Of four vessels adventurous That sallied right boldly from Plymouth Bay, Remains but this for our last essay ! Twelve thousand leagues to the South of us, And to West sixteen and a chartless way. " Yet forward, not backward I swore to go, By the passion of Christ that died on rood ! Into the vast of this western flood, Since Cyppo harbour that wrought us woe Hath made it salter with Saxon blood ! " From Volpariza and proud Peru Reft we the jewels, the silver and gold That teem and shimmer within our hold, Yet the galleons tall that durst not pursue, Now by light of their fire-topt peaks wax bold. " Slack goes our hull and with shells and sedge Drags foul, and yon is a smiling shore, Beach we and fray her and haul her o er Where the pines range thick and the shingle s edge Is purfled with blooms and the runnels pour." Swart, patched and tattered the sails rushed down. They hove her to and careened her straight, And her green weeds draped her in robes of state As she slept on the sands in her vast renown With the treasures her cannon had won, for freight. Drake in California 19 They chafed her clean till her English oak Blenched naked ; they caulked her with balsam- gum Bled from the firs, while amazed and dumb, The red tribes hearkened the mallet-stroke, And with gift and greeting made bold to come. Then to the Briton their chieftain thus : " Ye that came forth from yon wooden whale And speak with thunder, may peace prevail Twixt the tribe of the golden sun and us Thou god whose face like the moon s is pale." The thane of the sea held forth his hand : " But men and not gods of the sun are we. The pipe of dear peace we will smoke with thee, And fain would bide long in this goodly land, Yet our homes lie far and it cannot be." But loud to his moodish men he cried : " Richer than England this realm is stored A pleasaunce where each may be soldan-lord And wed him a comely and dusky bride Shall we burn our vessel and sink our hoard ? " Swift was their word : " Shall we whelm the heart That yearns for our glebe and the mother-mist ? A land more fair we have never wist, But Oh ! for our cloud-deckt isle we smart And for lips of the women our lips have kisst ! " 20 Drake in California Then Drake : " Shall the tracts of this huge domain Be left unto black Hispanian lords ? To Bilbo blades or to Saxon swords ? To Albion s lions or dogs of Spain ? To British freedom or hangman s cords ? " May lepers spew on the English name, And the mothers deny us that gave us breath, And the sea confound us in shame and death, If never for England these hills we claim In the name of Saint George and Elizabeth ! " A stroke ; and he nailed to a pine-tree shag The Queen s bright shilling, then bade to sound The tambour hollow, while quaked the ground With cannon-blast and the ragged flag Slow from its staff in the sands unwound. " And again is our hull with the ocean paired, Our sprites made fresh and our thews restored, Dare we then explore what was ne er explored, And fare down the seas where no ship hath fared My men of the sea my men of the sword ? " " Sir, we made North to the forty-first, " Quoth they, " and sprent us with polar mist ; The bark with our booty is weighed to list, And no deep hath terror for hearts that burst With love of the women we once have kisst ! " Drake in California 21 Then the Captain : " Leave we this Land of May, And thresh us a road to the Indies Blest To cincture this globe with a wake to- West, Past the Isles of Spice unto old Cathay, Then ho ! for England and home and rest ! " Lusty and scarred were their arms that strove, Browned by the tropics and battle-moil, They tugged the ship through the surges roil, And yarely she rode and the waters clove Sea-castle of triumph and war and spoil. The drab sails raddled with storm and shot, And stewed in nitre and heroes blood, Were hoist and clad her with wings and hood ; When they left that magic and flowered spot And to West for the Islands of Spice they stood. West, west on, on, to the ports of day, The Golden Hinde through the virgin main, From West plunged into the East again, Toward shores of the odorous, dim Cathay, With her hearts of England and ore of Spain. The spume uptost by her dogged prow, And the yeasty, whispering wake that burst From her keel in that absolute flood immerst, Engirdled the world. Oh, glory enow For honour s high hunger and valour s thirst ! 22 Drake in California Veered South to the Afric Cape, and then Bent North once more, like an osprey home She hurried to clothe her in Channel foam, While Drake on the deck with his tattered men Saw Devon, and tears to their eyes did come. And they drank with a deep and grateful breath Their native winds, and the mother-mist Held many a pair in a joyous tryst When the men whose love was more strong thi death, Kissed the lips of the women they once had kiss Mary of Milrone 23 MARY OF MILRONE (An American Border Ballad of the Painted Desert) T SHOT him where the Rio flows ; I shot him when the moon arose, And where he lies the vulture knows Along the Tinto River. . . . In schools of seaboard cities pale, My cloistered flesh began to fail ; They sent me where the deserts quail To winds from out the sun. I looked upon the land and sky, Nor hoped to live nor feared to die, And from my hollow breast a sigh Fell o er the burning waste. But strong I grew and tall I grew, Drinking the desert s fiery brew, It made me lithe in limb and thew How swift I rode and ran ! How often my heart sang to ride Over the sand-blown ocean wide, When she rode smiling at my side, Dear Mary of Milrone, 24 Mary of Milrone A flood of horned heads before, The trampled thunder, smoke and roar Of full four thousand hoofs or more A cloud, a sea, a storm ! Oh ! wonderful the desert gleamed ! Through the white miles we spoke and dreamed Of Love-in-Life till the dead wastes seemed The Plains of Paradise. Her eyes with Love s great magic shone, " Be mine, O Mary of Milrone, Mary, I love you, Mary my own ! " Her lips made sweet response : " I am your love, yours utterly Out of the East you came to me Long was the waiting long ! " Oh, we Were happy as the sun ! Then, bent upon a hopeless quest, With hell and hatred in his breast, Came one who knew nor sleep nor rest ; For Mary s love he pined. To me she fled. " My chosen mate, His eyes are terrible with fate ! I fear his love, I fear his hate I fear some looming ill ! " Mary of Milrone 25 But soon to church we made our ride ; I kissed her as she rode beside. How fair ! how passing fair my bride With gold combs in her hair ! Before the Spanish priest we stood Of San Gregorio s Brotherhood A shot rang out ! and in her blood My blue-eyed darling lay. God ! I carried her beside The Virgin s altar, where she cried, Smiling upon me ere she died : " Adieu, dear love, adieu ! " 1 knelt before Saint Mary s shrine, And held my dead bride s hand in mine, "Vengeance," I cried, "O Lord, be Thine, But I Thy minister ! " I kissed her thrice and sealed my vow, Her eyes, her sea-cold lips and brow, " Farewell ! my heart is dying now, O Mary of Milrone ! " Then swift upon my steed I leapt ; My streaming eyes the desert swept ; I saw the accursed where he crept Against the blood-red sun. 26 Mary of Milrone I galloped straight upon his track, And nevermore mine eyes looked back ! The world was barred with red and black ; My heart was a flaming coal. Through the delirious twilight dim And the blank night I followed him ; Hills did we cross and rivers swim, My fleet-foot horse and I. The morn burst red, a gory wound, O er iron hills and savage ground, And there was never another sound Save the beat of my horse s hoofs. Unto the murderer s ear they said : " Thou art of the dead ! thou art of the dead ! " Still on his stallion black he fled With death on his trail behind. Fiery dust from the blasted plain Burnt like lava in every vein, But I rode on with a steady rein, Though the fierce sand-devils spun. Then to a sullen land we came, Whose earth was brass, whose sky was flame ; I made it balm with her blessed name In the Land of Mexico. Mary of Milrone 27 With gasp and groan my poor horse fell Last of all things that loved me well ! I turned my head a smoking shell Veiled me his dying throes. But fast on vengeful foot was I ; I saw his horse fall spent and die ; He fled where a river s channel dry Still bore a meagre stream. Red as my rage the huge sun sank ; My foe stooped low on the stony bank And deep of the kindly pools he drank, While the giant stars broke forth. Then face to face and man to man, I fought him where the waters ran, Where the trembling palm held up its fan And the emerald serpents lay. The mad, remorseless bullets broke From tongues of flame in the sulphur-smoke The air was rent till the desert spoke To the echoing hills afar. Hot from his lips the curses burst, He fell ! the sands were slaked of thirst ; A stream in the stream ran dark at first, And the stones grew red as hearts. 28 Mary of Milrone I shot him where the Rio flows ; I shot him when the moon arose, And where he lies the vulture knows Along the Tinto River. But where she lies to none is known, Save my poor heart and a lonely stone On which I sit and weep alone Where the cactus-stars are white. Where / shall lie no man shall say ; The flowers all are fallen away ; The desert is so drear and grey, O Mary of Milrone ! The Ballad of the Friar 29 THE BALLAD OF THE FRIAR (Motif of an i8th Century Californian Mission) "C") THOU for whom the moonbeams part, For whom the rose is doubly red Thy feet are flowers upon my heart, But seals of fire upon my head ! " Demons have seized me and possesst O Virgin Mother, aid me now ! The dart of Love is in my breast, The brand of sin is on my brow. " I looked upon her loveliness, Like saint or seraph fair, she seemed An angel creature meant to bless The Earth her presence half redeemed." The friar seized the knotted scourge And smote his youthful shoulders firm, So the rude blows his flesh might purge Of fiends and the undying worm. He heard the Mission vesper-bell Fling mellow music through the air, And while his soul was steeped in Hell, His brother monks knelt down in prayer. 30 The Ballad of the Friar He slept on stone and harshest straw ; The hair shirt chafed his tender skin ; He let the teeth of hunger gnaw And craved forgiveness for his sin. But still her face, a summer cloud, Rose radiant in his sight by day, At night, a flame within the shroud Of darkness, o er his couch it lay. He knew his holy vows were vain ; He knew Love s fetters held him still Not to that cruel dame of Spain, But Gomez daughter from the Hill. In the far Andalusian land He had been lord of high estate, Now banished to this western strand, A monk in Mission walls he sate. Once when for simples by the brook He hunted all a summer s day, She came, and smiled on him, and shook Her gleaming curls, and rode away. Then by an Indian boy she sent A jar of honey twined with leaves " For the young priest," the message went, " Whose heart is holy, but who grieves." The Ballad of the Friar 3 1 The yearly great Fiesta flamed And rang with music through the town ; The belles and caballeros famed From ranch and range came riding down. A rose, a star above the rest Shone Gomez daughter from the Hill, And young Alvarez strove his best To charm her with his smiles and skill. Alvarez, rich in gold and lands, Whose cattle darkened all the plain, Flung silver from his slender hands And showed his feats of rope and rein. The friar from his barren cell Saw in the sunlight s happy glow The tides of life he loved so well In old Hispania, ebb and flow. He flung his missal gainst the wall ; His carved, ancestral chest he spied Therein with potent lure and call Lay vain, forbidden things of pride. When night had fallen, and the moon Rose like a lily from the sea, And poured athwart the salt lagoon Her silvery fires fitfully, 32 The Ballad of the Friar The monk stole forth in robe and cowl, Where pallid, massive, high and still, He saw the house of Gomez scowl Like a white fortress on the hill. Swift to a window iron-barred His footsteps, winged with passion, sped Where rose and myrtle held their guard Over that loved and lovely head. But ever on his shadow hung Another shadow black and grim ; Past tree and hedge it stalked and swung Saint Francis ! yield thy grace to him ! Close by the wall his friar s hood, His rope, his sandals and his gown He doffed a cavalier he stood As once in gay Sevilla s town ! Splendid he shone in silk and lace, With silver buckles on his shoon ; The powdered wig above his face Gleamed like a halo neath the moon. His hands caressed a polished lute Which, since in Seville streets it rang, With all its chords had rested mute ; He smote the thrilling strings and sang : The Ballad of the Friar 33 " O thou for whom the moonbeams part, For whom the rose is doubly red, Thy feet are flowers upon my heart, But seals of fire upon my head ! " He sang, and one that stood and heard The golden notes began to weep ; Her heart seemed like a captive bird Longing from out its cage to leap. Her eyes peered through the window-bars ; Her moulded arm waved white and free ; Her eyes shone like the zenith stars ; Her arm shone pale as ivory. She waves, and from her hand a rose Falls to the stranger as he sings. To lift it from the ground he goes The ambushed shadow forward springs, A dagger flashes in the night ! The song is ended in a groan, And lo ! before Rosalia s sight The youth lies silent, still and prone. The dark vaqueros at her shriek Ride down the phantom murderer s track Across the moon-lit fields and seek And find and drag him fiercely back 34 The Ballad of the Friar Where close by torch and taper red, Cold in the virgin s chamber lay With ashen face and tonsured head, A princely form of perished clay. As curst Alvarez entered there, No sign she gave. No word he said, But fixed on her a fiery stare A shudder seemed to seize the dead. On those pale lips ere life had gone, Rosalia s lips had rested twain, Your guerdon great, your benison, O gallant gentleman of Spain ! Wet with his blood and with her tears, Red on his breast her flower lay. Beside him through the night she hears Earth s iron hours roll away. And at the early matin-bell The padres from the Mission came Slowly with downcast head too well They felt their brother s sin and shame Then o er the peaks where morning frets The skies with pearl and amber glow, With slant and glittering bayonets Marched guards from the Presidio. The Ballad of the Friar 35 Soon two processions dumb and stern, The haciendas door releast, West to the Mission one made turn, And one marched quickly toward the East. One bore the monk to sainted ground, And moved with silent prayers and slow, One haled the live assassin bound With chains, to the Presidio. O years that fall like snow ! the hands Of Earth on all have wrought her will, Though still the ruined Mission stands And Gomez house upon the Hill. 36 Ann o Dreams ANN O DREAMS (Smuggler motif of the Pacific Coast) tJ ARK ! hark ! Is it the wind that screams As down the dusk it flees Past the harsh cliff whose bulwark seems To daunt the charging seas ? No, tis the wild woman Ann o Dreams, Mad with her memories. She haunts like a witch the sands that rise Along the raving bay ; Like seaweed is her hair that flies Wet with the cold salt spray, Shrill is her voice, fierce are her eyes, Her rags are strangely gay. Where the hoarse, bursting billows fall She stands erect and pale ; She scans the flaire of the lighthouse tall, The plunging, close-reefed sail ; She hears the storm-spent steamers call And the fog-horn moan and wail. Ann o Dreams 37 This night is like that olden night Of thunder, storm and rain, When here she stood with aching sight, A statue hewn of pain, And glared through tears at a little light That rose, fell, rose again. " Roger, the sea is fell with hate ! Death howls across the tide ; O Roger, my dear love, my mate, Hearken to me," she cried, " My eyes have seen the eyes of Fate Stay, stay with me, your bride ! " He kissed her lips, her eyes made blind With tears. " Fear not," said he, " My love with gold her arms shall bind, Her breast with broidery. For never yet were wave or wind That kept me from the sea." Mid in the Sound a black hulk lay Dim in the lightning sheen The vessel come from far Cathay Over a world of green. To her the smuggler fought his way, Seeing and yet not seen. 38 Ann o Dreams Roger Moore of that fisher ilk No longer dragged the main, Since he knew lust for the stolen silk, The smuggled bolt and skein, And priceless boxes of poppy-milk That gilds the human brain. Though new-caught fish had silver flesh Scant silver they brought and slim, But smugglers gold was bright and fresh What matter the moil was grim ! And Roger still had scaped the mesh The law had spread for him. One spark, one green and livid spark, Led him with fall and dip ; His face grew stern, his sinews stark, He swore and fleshed his lip, And drove his boat through storm and dark Straight to the heaving ship. Down gainst the iron steamer swung The bales of contraband And the opium rare that Kiang Hung Brought from the Mongol Land. Sheer off! Sheer off! The boat was flung Toward the far-off strand. Ann o 5 Dreams 39 But fierce and wild the mounting waves Raved and would have their fill ; They wrought the sea to hills and graves To thwart the smuggler s will ; They tore within their gulfs and caves The heart they sought to still. No more to Ann upon the shore, Out of the green abyss, The living Roger came no more She felt his clasp and kiss, But burdens strange the breakers bore Onward with groan and hiss. When the cold dawn with ashen hand Bade wave and wind be still, Straight from their cabins came a band Of boatmen down the hill ; They marked a woman pace the strand ; They heard her clamour shrill. By a wan shape she knelt her down ; Loose flew her amber hair ; Around her silken bales lay strown, A broken oar was there, And she was clad from foot to crown In fabrics rich and rare. 40 Ann o Dreams " Away ! " she cried ; "let Roger sleep ! The drug has worked a spell ; Here shall he rest while I shall keep Watch, like a sentinel My lover out of the angry deep Has kept his promise well ! " See, lovely silks he brought to me Which any queen might wear, And gold, and coral grown in the sea, To make his Annie fair. A happy day shall our bridal be In the little church up there ! " For her the vengeful gods grew kind And held in leash their hate ; They cast a cloud athwart her mind, A mercy deep and great, Clouds that with happy dreams were lined And lies compassionate. Wet with the sea they wrested him From the clinging of her hands, And bore him where the lighthouse grim Like a lone watchman stands, Where they made a lowly house and slim Mid the lupins and the sands. Ann o Dreams 41 For her he lives, for him she waits, For him in silk she gleams, For him, when the storm-winds lash the Straits, She runs the shore and screams, Let her not wake, you pitying fates ! But keep her Ann o Dreams. 42 The Ballad of the Leper THE BALLAD OF THE LEPER In Euston Road in London Town, 1 saiv and felt and wrote this dcrwn, LJER cheek was pale, her form was gaunt ; She seemed so strangely thin, Thin as the shrouded ghosts that haunt Scenes of their earthly sin. She clutched my arm, with mordant words Assailed my quailing ear Her face was like a starved bird s Such speech do devils hear. Her hands were clinging claws that burned Through skin and flesh and bone, While anguish seared those eyes she turned Like dead stars on mine own. That voice rose whirling to my brain And sought to shatter it ; I know to demons its refrain Is torment in the pit. The Ballad of the Leper 43 She seemed of equal age with me, Yet blithe and fresh was I, And she was like some blasted tree By thunder doomed to die. She stood enwrapped with charnel air And pestilence s breath ; The winds of Life had whipped her bare And given her to Death. It seemed his voice of doom and blight Rang round her like a dirge, And from her face, like spectral light, Gleamed forth the Great White Scourge. I looked upon a world of woes And peered through Horror s land, Then in mine eyes the waters rose, And gold fell from my hand. I shook and drew mine arm away, And through the night I fled From deeper night that knew no day Save of the living dead. I felt the curse of human things, Man, Law, the strife of Earth ; I felt the thrice-curst fate that brings Woe to the babe at birth. 44 The Ballad of the Leper And those remorseless rods that fall From palaces and domes On worms that perish as they crawl Athwart a nation s homes. One blessing mounted from the thought And o er my spirit fell ; That figure dread had dashed to naught The realms of After-hell. Sea Changes 45 SEA CHANGES Maid: "T^HEIR bones toss on the sea-floor stones, My sailor s and his ship s ; So I wake and weep in my broken sleep, And my lips for his kisses their yearning keep, As the tide to seaward slips, Bearing the souls in the ships. I sob as the sea sobs on the shore, And the voice in the shell forevermore Is the voice from his poor cold lips, As the tide to seaward slips, Bearing the souls in the ships. Lover : Life s storm hath chilled thy heart-blood warm ; Thy tears drop for the dead ; With the monsters grim that about him swim, He lies in the glaze of the sea-caves dim. Life and Love sweep overhead And the dead are but the dead. 46 Sea Changes Give tears to them, to the living give love ; Lock not thyself from the bliss thereof Whilst the blood runs swift and red ! Life and Love sweep overhead And the dead are but the dead. Mermaid : The sea brought down my love to me, Long have I sought thee long ! My bosom bare and my long loose hair Thy couch shall be and thy pillow fair, With my lips for kiss or song. Shall mine arms not hold thee long ? To a woman s sweet name thy lips were shaped As thy sigh in pearls through the water scaped. What earth-woman s love is strong ? With my lips for kiss or song, Shall mine arms not hold thee long ? The Chant of Man and Woman 47 THE CHANT OF MAN AND WOMAN JP ARTH S iron mingles with my blood, But thine with milk is blent ; My tears are of the salt-sea flood, But thine sweet springs unpent. Thy pulse a fertile river glides, But mine is urged by ocean-tides. All human, hitman, human. The fire of heart t we fan. Thou art the Queen called Woman ; I am the King called Man. Like mountain-winds o er towers, So calls my voice and rings ; A fragrant breeze midst flowers Is thine that sighs and sings. A garden-sheltered plant thy form, And mine a pine within the storm. All human, human, human, Through us Love s tremor ran. Thou art the Queen called Woman ; I am the King called Man. 48 The Chant of Man and Woman The eagle sweeps along my glance, Spanning all Earth and sky ; Thy tender doves of vision chance No flight so deep, so high. My thoughts are flames on mountain heights, And thine are lakes of mystic lights. All human, human, human. The visions that t we scan. Thou art the Queen called Woman ; I am the King called Man. Like eager lilies drink thine ears Love s note and the infant s cry ; Mine drain the thunder of the spheres And rapt as sea-shells lie On shores of Life s resounding sea And hear one voice Humanity ! All human, human, human, Curst by no primal ban. Thou art the Queen called Woman ; I am the King called Man. Thy cloven bosom s hills and vale, Where Love hath set his tents, Hold store of raptures ringed by pale Of spirit and of sense. My breast is fort and battlefield, But not to thee to thee a shield. The Chant of Man and Woman 49 All human, human, human, We walk in Nature s van. Thou art the Queen called Woman ; 1 am the King called Man. Thy brow bears halos from the moon, Mine fire from out the sun, Yet through Life s morning and her noon And night they gleam as one. Linked stars are we in Nature s train, Forever one forever twain ! All human ) human, human, Fruit of the cosmic plan, Thou art the Queen called Woman ; 1 am the King called Man. 50 Prayer of Beggarman Death THE PRAYER OF BEGGARMAN DEATH ( A Rime Macabre ) Lord, this world is all too hale, And I, old beggarman, am forced To skip and flap before the gale Uncrowned, unscythed and unhorsed ! There is a bitter plague of health, No mad and timely wars to drain The lands that stuffed me fat with wealth Of mangled flesh and fevered vein. Oh, when shall India s famine maw Grant me her bronzen bodies thick ? Or Cholera, grey in tooth and claw, Strike gasping cities cold and sick ? By Peace and doctors I am doomed Like War and my ally Disease ; Scant food I ve had since I consumed Shag Russians and plump Japanese ! Prayer of Beggarman Death 5 Dear Lord, be kind, my sorrows heeding ; Must 1 alone seek food in vain ? Oh, let me mow the human grain, And set the veins of Earth to bleeding! Science, alert and lightning-fanged, Defeats my plots upon the seas, Though many slay and few are hanged, I cannot live alone by these. I that was fleshed with bodies fair Babes, women sweet and strapping braves, Sit fasting at my tables bare, And famish by mine empty graves. Men fall to pieces ere they die, Old sapless carcases and tough, Marrowless, bitter, cankered, dry, I starve upon this human stuff! Leeches with draughts, syringes, pills, Harass and hound me, filled with spite Oh, dash them with Thy plagues and ills ! Or must I crumble in Thy sight ? Dear Lord, be kind, my sorrows heeding ; Must I alone seek food in vain ? Oh, let me mow the human grain. And set the veins of Earth to bleeding ! 5 2 Prayer of Beggarman Death Where must I make my final stand ? My scanty living seek Oh, where ? For men have mastered sea and land Their fear of me ! the realms of air ! Shall meat be mine from out the clouds, As once Thy daws the prophet fed ? Oh, twist their airy sails to shrouds ! Or soon Thy henchman Death is dead. Mark now thy servant s sad estate ! I that was king o er all the Earth, Equal and arbiter with Fate, Am racked and robbed by Life and Birth. Let loose Thy dragons red with strife ! Remove the pestilence s ban ; Free Thy volcanoes ; yield me life ; Oh, pity Death the beggarman ! Dear Lord, be kind, my sorrows heeding ; Must 1 alone seek food in vain ? Oh, let me mow the human grain, And set the veins of Earth to bleeding ! The Viking s Death Song 53 THE VIKING S DEATH SONG (From the Forest Play, "The Sons of Baldur," produced in California in 1908) / ~PHE Song of the Dying ! The Song of the Sword ! Valkyries are crying O er battle and board. The foe struck me sorest But Hael hath his soul. O god of the forest Skoal to thee ! skoal! Mid brands that were flashing, Mid helms that were cleft, My red blade went crashing Behold what is left ! By Thor and his thunder, His battle-car s roll O sword sprung asunder Skoal to thee ! skoal! O steel pure and slender ! O bride I adored ! To me thou wast tender, My mistress, my sword ! 54 The Viking s Death Song Thy lover lies broken, And thou art not whole ; The dark Norns have spoken Skoal to thee ! skoal! The flesh and the fishes, The mead and the wine, Give you joy, but the dishes Of gods shall be mine. The battle did break me, And Earth hath her dole O death-maids come take me ! Skoal to you ! skoal! Build the pile on the galley ; On my shield let me rest ; Let me make my last sally With steel in my breast. Farewell ! speed his going Who nears the dark goal ; The red brooks are flowing Skoal to you ! skoal! The Sunken Galleon 55 THE SUNKEN GALLEON (In Tobermory Bay, Isle of Mull) galleon, gold galleon, Sunk low in Tobermory Bay, Arise ! shake off the surges dun, Thou oaken swan, to meet the day. Brandish thy polished masts again Like lances in the sunless blast ; Let fly the gonfalon of Spain And gird the floods that held thee fast. Unloose thy blazoned canvas ; weigh Thy rusted anchor from its bed ! Let all thy silver clarions bray, Calling, calling up thy dead. Let the winds smite thy carven poop Where stalked Sidonia s admiral, Though green and writhing kelp may loop Thy cannon where the starfish sprawl. Terrible, terrible was the light That from thy battle-lanterns bled O er swords and harness sparkling bright, Like rubies in an idol s head. 56 The Sunken Galleon Now fall thy crystal sea-tears cold, Armadan widow, draped with weeds, With funeral moss and weeds that fold Thy decks for unaccomplished deeds. Dark were the storms that hounded thee, With gold and thunder in thy womb, And drove thee to a stranger sea, And wrought for thee a sandy tomb. Snarling the alien waters drank Thee down, bronze-girdled Amazon, And with thee and thy sisters sank Spain like a star whose day is done. The years like shadowy hydras passed O er that green crypt that vaulted thee ; Thou wakest, but thy thrones lie cast In wan eclipse beyond the sea. A fiercer meteor glares and trails Its iron battle-hulks a-foam Go spread thy tattered flags and sails j Steer for Hispania, steer for home. To Cadiz and its pharos-flare, O hoar sea-castle, twixt the skies And chanting seas thy prow shall fare On one last loyal enterprise. The Sunken Galleon 57 Bear st thou no wealth save golden bars ? No armament save mouldered guns ? Canst thou not home by wiser stars, With one great message for thy sons ? With red spars fired within the dawn, Charged with a light from out the north, Fetterless, free, thou glorious pawn, The new Sea-Empress sends thee forth. Lost is thine ancient ocean-realm Then die thy grief like Philip s rage ! Return in peace and at thy helm The Spirit of the Van ward Age. POEMS Solar Magnificat 61 SOLAR MAGNIFICAT dawn on your manes glimmers yellow Bright chargers of morn that o erpower The pits of the night where they yawn. Tread the frontiers of Earth till they flower And the stars are sheathed and withdrawn ! Tread the floods that swell, gather, and bellow, And proud coasts that are gnawn By the surge, till as fellow to fellow They shout to the dawn ! O sun-lord ! with viols and tabours And horns thy wing d minstrelsy blending, Fling an argentine largess of light O er the zones, thy white miracle sending Through night and the chambers of night. Upcall thou Earth s brood to their labours ! Go scatter the birds in their flight ! And with storming of cymbals and sabres Goad noon to its height. 62 Solar Magnificat Then Life in its circles set roaring, As the wheels of thy chariot glisten Thorough dust of the zodiac s scroll Shall chant thee a choral. O listen To valley and summit and shoal ! Whilst hymns from the cities up-pouring Like condors that mount to their goal, Thy sinking shall bless like thy soaring, From pole unto pole. The Shriving of the Snow 63 THE SHRIVING OF THE SNOW 5 \l/ HAT hollow hands from out the North Cast thee upon this passive plain, Where like some vestal driven forth, Hapless thou liest and lost, Heaven s bride and spotless daughter of the rain, Chaste sister to the dew-drift and the frost ? From ghostly travail in the highest air, Fed with the driven crystal of the clouds, My white moths falter Down the black Earth bare To change each home and height into an altar, And garb them with soft veils and purest shrouds That holiness might wear. 64 The Secret Theatre THE SECRET THEATRE darkling theatre of dreams Is hung with hatchments of the night, And all our years are lamps whose gleams Bring ghostly scenes and mimes to light. " By day go hug unto thine heart Thy new-blown joys and tragedies ! But lapped in sleep, my prey thou art, Pale bondman to thy memories." So calls the Night with trumpet cries, And lifts her stony mask. Two voids Betray great empty rifts for eyes Through which glare moons and asteroids. She hounds our goblins from their lairs, Our milk-white wraiths of happiness, Our dramas built of old despairs And passions life would never bless. Our hearts conceived the sorry plot, Our red right hands, immerst in flame, Penned the frail text, but cannot blot From sight its folly or its shame. The Secret Theatre 65 Perchance some tragedy they act Which we with guilty eyes must mark, Chained victims of a phantom pact Twixt will-o -wisps that haunt the dark. Here thoughts like stones from catapults, Make wreckage of our deeds and laws, Here, like dim monsters, huge Results Writhe bound to slender chains of Cause. And pygmies pipe the author s praise, And giants shriek their curses shrill The wanton word like lightning slays, And Fear its haggard self would kill. Our darkling theatre of dreams Is hung with hatchments of the night Might we but crush those lamps whose gleams Light up our worlds with poisoned light ! Might but our wills like Samson seize The pillars of the playhouse vast, Till toppling arch and roof and frieze Make dust again the dusty past ! 66 The Red Sentry THE RED SENTRY The Challenge: RED sentry in my breast, Sleep ! for I have need of rest. The morns and noons are fugitive, I seek more peace than night can give. Though like a lark thou singest, The bird knows nesting-time ; Though like a bell thou ringest, Bells too must halt their chime. Why dost thou urge thy clamour Within these walls of flesh ? It seems thy pauseless hammer Destroys, then builds afresh. Though thou throbbest like a drum, Peace strikes e en the tambour dumb. Though sullen, hungry, wild Be thy crying like a child ; Yet when its mouth is filled, It sleeps. Then be thou stilled. Go rest thee, crimson sentinel ; The hour is come, and all is well. The Red Sentry 67 The Reply: The vigil that I keep Knows no release in sleep. And the crypt that I must shield To one voice alone shall yield. Birds drowse, yet they awaken To quire through the land ; The bells in steeples shaken Toll to the ringer s hand. Faithful, unpausing, peaceless My fountain in the dark Leaps high while I guard ceaseless Life s throned and templed spark. Let my stout drum unafraid Beat ! until my hand be stayed, If my cry be young and wild, Learn its meaning from the child. Know, though loud the battle swell, I must guard this citadel. Patience, I have a trust to keep Then I shall rest and thou shalt sleep. 68 The Coming of the Comet THE COMING OF THE COMET HTHOU that hast drunken from the vats of Time And plungest athwart the heavens divinely mad, Thou that art gladder than all stars are glad ! Thou girdler of the zodiac and the sun ! Thou bearder of the planets as they climb, Ravelled with fire-gossamers and spun Along thine orbit quenchless and sublime, Once more upon thine ancient road thou turnest, What message from the darkness dost thou bear ? What warning in the beacon that thou burnest ? What portent in the blazing of thine hair ? Fierce envoy of Eternity, behold ! Dust are the eyes that peered upon thee last ; The generations thou hast seen are past And kingdoms lie undone and Earth lies changed Beneath thy crest of fire and mane of gold, The pawns of life, by spectre hands deranged, Face us with endless riddles as of old. The Coming of the Comet 69 Helpless we gaze, red wanderer, as thou flarest Across our lives from night to tongueless night, Staring like children upon thee as thou starest, Children that hate the dark, yet fear the Light. yo The Invader of the Night THE INVADER OF THE NIGHT TV/f UTE are the planets aghast, As a flame through the void is cast, And the sun with his flashing urns Swells, darkens and glows by turns With a wrath that engirts his throne Like a king that with fury burns At a grandeur not his own. Lo, a sword of terror is drawn Gainst the orbs of eve and dawn Or art thou a shroud of fire, Or a banner of legions dire, Or the cloak of a herald of doom In response to the fate s desire From the black, abysmal room ? Or a vengeful scourge to cleanse Old Earth of her foul offence ? A besom of wrath divine, A portent of woe, or a sign That the Vast yields unto us ? A torch of a beam malign, Or a watch-fire glorious ? The Invader of the Night 71 Or art thou a golden brand Swung far in a seraph s hand, A glaive to daunt and affright Lost nations doomed to the night, That stare from their dumb abyss, Their thrones and their towns made bright By thee as they wait thy kiss ? Three score and ten are the years, And myriad the hopes and fears, That measure the life of man, But greater by five the span That weaves thee about the sun, Wast thou fired when our race began ? Wilt thou die when tis done ? But once may our eyes behold Thy flail of unsullied gold On the floor of the winnowed stars, Ere dusk that with mystery bars Our eyes from celestial sight, Shall pass in her iron cars Leaving darkness or light ? 72 Dawn over a Metropolis DAWN OVER A METROPOLIS A FALTERING and elusive grey Of pearl sways in the eastern deep, And now the frontiers of the day Press on the dim domain of sleep. Expectant, to the birth of light Awake the winds to fresh embrace ; The shadow-ocean of the night Ebbs slowly from creation s face ; Rolls west and half undecks the forms Vague shapes the sunken dark had wombed ; Dun and unstirred by feature, swarms Of roofs and towers rise untombed To life ! to light ! to birth anew With wan and sudden colour blent ; The last star struggles from the blue And dawn usurps the firmament. O light that trembles on the verge Of the still city s stony crown, What powers of good or ill shall urge This day thy flaming couriers down ? The Sea Slave 73 THE SEA SLAVE Q BRIGHT sea-witch that threshest Spent pearls upon thy sandy floor, Thou that with solemn drone enmeshest My soul what wouldst thou more ? Make answer with the foaming flail That falls with its reverberate roar And breaks thine emerald sheaves upon the shale That rustles like a garment on thy shore. I am the rude triumphal sea ! The sea that gulfed thy winged soul, And I would have thy heart to roll, Thy heart that like a flame is red ! Have I not brewed in thee Tempests ? Was thy flesh not bred From the emerald flesh of me ? Leave yon woman though she whine For thee, for thee, mine eyes shall shine ! Though thy children wail for food Can their earthy tears be salt as mine ? Their little loneliness match my long solitude? 74 The Sea Slave Lo ! elemental hungers hound My heart to seek the human brood With limbs like coral branched, with hair like sea- bloom wound. Green, savage witch that dravest Me forth to plough the barren dune, Thy slave returns too deeply thou enslavest Thy minions ! O green minion of the moon ! Thy tides call madly in my veins ; Mine ears are shells that will not hear Aught but the moaning of thy plains, And so my lips to thine must near. Sybil that brimmest in the Earthen cup, Tis thee and thy stark posset I desire To slake in me the yearning and the fire Spread thine eternal board, for I would sup ! Come, I shall scarf my breast in white, And I shall drive my surges To build thee lofty dirges Of harps in roaring sea-capes in the night. And though my breast be cold, Of setting suns thy lips shall sip the gold. I brook not that thy being frail Should hoard a deeper gulf than mine Nor that Love turn thy heart into a grail For his immortal wine The Sea Slave 75 With the flaming of his breath. I am the sea ! unfathomed and unbound In me the passions of all Life are found, And all the hungers and the wastes of Death. 7 6 A Wingless One A WINGLESS ONE \X/"HEN I saw in the vaults of azure and sun, Like blooms from their fields astray, On painted wings that fluttered and spun Two golden butterflies play Two flames by an airy love made one In the heart of the day Then I longed for a mate and the gift of wings, But was doomed on the earth to lie, Till I cursed the clasp of the marl that clings To thwart my lust for the sky, And the mournful hunger of wingless things For the visions that die. The Birth of Births 77 THE BIRTH OF BIRTHS rebel stars rode up the night, And wounded me with swords of light,- Then swift as heart and soul awoke ; A firmamental clamour broke Into the chambers of my brain Where Peace, a mangled rose, lay slain. I peered on her who to my eye Like marble lay. Not hers that cry ! I ran to seek my infant son Flesh of my flesh, he slumbered on. I flung the window wide ; how still The gaunt moon glared above the hill ! Out of the darkness at my feet In awful silence yawned the street. A whirr of pinions shook the air, Gusts of new hope and old despair. Then to the reeling clouds I cried : " Answer ! What mighty man hath died ? F 7 8 The Birth of Births " Answer ! What travail of the Earth To hero or to god gave birth ? " Give voice, thou throat of Time and Fate ; Until thou answer, here I wait ! " Then from the midnight s mouth of stone There crept a voice that quelled mine own : " O Man ! lift hymns unto the morn, This night a mighty thought was born ! " FOUR POEMS FROM THE GERMAN OF NIETZSCHE To Melancholy 81 i TO MELANCHOLY Q MELANCHOLY, be not wroth with me That I this pen should point to praise thee only, And in thy praise, with head bowed to the knee, Squat like a hermit on a tree-stump lonely. Thus oft thou saw st me yesterday, at least, Full in the morning sun and its hot beaming, While, visioning the carrion of his feast, The hungry vulture valleyward flew screaming. Yet didst thou err, foul bird, albeit I, So like a mummy gainst my log lay leaning ! Thou couldst not see these eyes whose ecstasy Rolled hither, thither, proud and overweening. What though they did not soar unto thine height, Nor reached those far-off, cloud-reared precipices, For that they sank the deeper so they might Within themselves light Destiny s abysses. Thus oft in sullenness perverse and free, Bent hideous like a savage at his altar, There, Melancholy, held I thought of thee, A penitent, though youthful, with his psalter. 82 To Melancholy So crouched did I enjoy the vulture s span, The thunder of the avalanche s paces ; Thou spakest to me nor wast false like man, Thou spakest, but with stern and dreadful faces. Harsh goddess thou of Nature wild and stark, Mistress, that com st with threats to daunt and quell me, To point me out the vulture s airy arc, And laughing avalanches, to repel me. Around us gnashing pants the lust to kill, The torment to win life in all its changes, Alluring on some cliff abrupt and chill, Some flower craves the butterfly that ranges. All this am I shuddering I feel it all O butterfly beguiled ! O lonely flower ! The vulture and the ice-pent waterfall, The moaning storm all symbols of thy power, Thou goddess grim before whom deeply bowed, With head on knee, my lips with paeans bursting, I lift a dreadful song and cry aloud, For Life, for Life, for Life forever thirsting ! O vengeful goddess, be not wroth, I ask, That I to mesh thee in my rhymes have striven. He trembles who beholds thine awful mask ; He quails to whom thy dread right hand is given, To Melancholy 83 Song upon trembling song by starts and fits I chant, in rhythm all my thought unfolding ; The black ink flows, the pointed goose-quill spits O goddess, goddess leave me to my scolding ! 84 After a Night Storm II AFTER A NIGHT STORM in misty veils thou hangest dimly, Gloomy goddess, o er my window-pane. Grimly whirl the pallid snow-flakes, grimly Roars the swollen brook unto the plain. Ah ! by light of haggard levins glaring, Neath the untamed thunder s roar and roll, Midst the valley s murk wast thou preparing, Sorceress ! thy dank and poisoned bowl. Shuddering, I heard through midnight breaking Raptures of thy voice and howls of pain. Saw thy bright orbs gleam, thy right hand shaking With the mace of thunder hurled amain. Near my dreary couch I heard the crashes Of thine armoured steps, heard weapons slam, Heard thy brazen chain strike gainst the sashes, And thy voice : " Come ! hearken who I am ! After a Night Storm 85 " The immortal Amazon they call me , All things weak and womanish I shun ; Manly scorn and hate in war enthral me Victress I and tigress all in one ! " Where I tread there corpses fall before me ; From mine eyes the furious torches fly, And my brain thinks poisons. Bend, adore me ! Worm of Earth and Will o Wisp, or die ! " 86 Autumn in AUTUMN S Autumn Autumn yet shall break thy heart ! Fly away ! fly away ! The sun creeps gainst the hill And climbs and climbs And rests at every step. How faded grew the world ! On weary, slackened strings the wind Playeth his tune. Fair Hope fled far He waileth after. Tis Autumn Autumn yet shall break thy heart ! Fly away ! fly away ! O fruit o the tree, Thou tremblest, fallest ? What secret whispered unto thee The Night, That icy shudders deck thy cheek, Thy cheek of purple hue ? Autumn 87 Silent art thou, nor dost reply Who speaketh still ? Tis Autumn Autumn yet shall break thy heart ! Fly away ! fly away ! " I am not fair," So speaks the lone star-flower, " Yet men I love And comfort men Many flowers shall they behold, And stoop to me, And break me, ah ; So that within their eyes shall gleam Remembrance swift, Remembrance of far fairer things than I : I see it see it and I perish so." Tis Autumn: Autumn yet shall break thy heart! Fly away ! fly away ! In Lonesomeness IV IN LONESOMENESS T 1 HE cawing crows Townwards on whirring pinions roam ; Soon come the snows Thrice happy now who hath a home ! Fast-rooted there, Thou gazest backwards oh, how long ! Thou fool, why dare, Ere winter come, this world of wrong ? This world a gate To myriad deserts dumb and hoar ! Who lost through fate What thou hast lost, shall rest no more. Now stand st thou pale, A frozen pilgrimage thy doom, Like smoke whose trail Cold and still colder skies consume. In Lonesomeness 89 Fly, bird, and screech, Like desert-fowl, thy song apart ! Hide out of reach, Fool ! in grim ice thy bleeding heart. The cawing crows Townwards on whirring pinions roam ; Soon come the snows Woe unto him who hath no home ! THE END BENI U.C.BERKELEY LIBRARIES