; m 1. 'm^m.»^.-x^ t r ■ i|j'|||H^prMHti.'|H sf Ji' MmrxKS^ .l&TXtai^ iflfek^ THG UNIYGRSITY Of CALlfORNlfl LIBRARY 93 5 (SIS ^ Ct owct^ <»i "t^flft KCXW Ctn.Ki -^ yt«/rtC> ^«C ^tvOtn^b of owe Bcfczii nvooo^ fc4f? cScTlibris THE BLESSED DAMOZEL The poem given here is as it originally appeared in The Germ Oii^ v_x ^juul -//u' . ' 4J/^j>s-€€l^ UL/a/Twy/ The Crayon Study of the Head of the Blessed Damozel by T>ante Gabriel Rossetti is reproduced by permission of Mr Frederick Hollyer, THE By D. G. Rossetti BLESSED DAMOZEL Introduction By W. M. Rossetti Decorations By W, B. Macdougall London Duckworth ^ Co. Boston L. C. Page S^ Company^ Inc. 1898 All Rights Reserved Jn^robttc^ion DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI, born on 12th May 1828, wrote The Blessed Damozel in the nineteenth year of his age, or before 12th May 1847. The pen or the partiality of a brother is not needed for saying that the poem, if considered simply from the poetical point of view, ranks as highly remarkable among the works of very juvenile writers ; and still more so when we take into account its total unlikeness to any other poem then extant. I at least know of nothing which pre- sents any similar combination of mediaeval devoutness, human passion, and remote yet intimate idealism — an earthly love wearing a spiritual halo so bright and dazzling that the eye hardly dis- tinguishes the point of juncture between the one and the other. In old art I am cognizant of no precedent, and in the art con- temporary with Rossetti's adolescence none. So much be it permitted me to say on the question of personal initiative, or what we call originality. I can remember in a general way the time when my brother wrote The Blessed Damozel, but could not myself have fixed the date as being before the completion of his nineteenth year. He himself fixed it, in a letter to Mr Hall Caine (1880 or 1881) which that gentleman has published : " Jenny (in a first form) was written almost as early as The Blessed Damozel^ which I wrote — and have altered little since — when I was eighteen." Mr Caine has also quoted a statement made to him verbally by Rossetti in the autumn of 1881, in connexion with Edgar Poe's Raven, 'J «,.' VE'RSE \ THE FOURTH VEIiSE i (To one it is ten years of years : ♦ . . Yet now, here in this place, Surely she leaned o*er me, — her hair Fell all about my face. . . . Nothing : the Autumn-fall of leaves. The whole year sets apace.) V It was the terrace of God^s house That she was standing on — By God built over the sheer depth In which Space is begun ; So high, that looking downward thence, She could scarce see the sun. ;*»»i»: r-Sl- ^ THE 3TFTH VE%SE \ THE SIXTH VE%SE ^ "^m \ VI I It lies from Heaven across the flood Of ether, as a bridge. I Beneath, the tides of day and night j With flame and blackness ridge I The void, as low as where this earth Spins like a fretful midge. >;'V' " ■ i^i^ ( T\>^X^ ^ u.^ 1 m ■ \ / <-: IJI But in those tracts^ with her^ it was ^H 1 r IH The peace of utter light H ^r^ « IH And silence. For no breeze may stii ■ ILCS! f) • im Along the steady flight ^H ^^'^^^^ y| Of seraphim; no echo there^ ^H ^' H Beyond all depth or height. 1 / / • H^R^!^7^] c I 1 m g»m V /I ( fu" V { m V) % THE SEVENTH VE%SE ^ m THE EIGHTH VE%SE i rncw tpcnds,v>tiev VIII Heard Playing Spake, gentIe-mouthe(t among themselves, Their virginal chaste names ; And the souls, mounting up to God, Went by her like thin flames. ^MU^^U IX And still she bowed herself , and stooped Into the^ast waste calm ; 6i^^iII her bosom's pressure must have made The bar she leaned on warm. And the lilies lay as if asleep Along her bended arm. J>^ p-^:-.© ro'.v.p [ij •o bo THE iNJNTH VE%SE } THE TENTH VEIiSE } wQ^CLC^ wcee.ciy X From the fixt lull of heaven^ she saw Time^ like a pulse, shake fierce Through all the worlds. Her gaze still strove, In that steep gulph, to pierce The swarm : and then she spake, as when The stars sang in their spheres. Mm V/V/V^'VX' ^^tk^^Ska XI '' I wish that he were come to me, For he will come," she said. ** Have I not prayed in solemn heaven ? On earth, has he not prayed ? Are not two prayers a perfect strength ? And shall I feel afraid ? THE ELEVENTH VE^SE ^ THE ^TWELFTH VE%SE i JliV\ fWy^ •'^^*^>^ ""^W^ ■^^jr^^^^-^^g^ i*f_ rVRAm \ -_4t«r — «v \i/ 1 xJ/* ■;iv • XII ''When round his head the aureole clings, And he is clothed in white, V\\ take his hand, and go with him To the deep wells of light, And we will step down as to a stream And bathe there in God's sight. v'/ 1 j^jt^^^n / ,\ • . i /1\ J. A./ : \ • //A^ w /r » • • « ■ ^'>i /. / P m • / . ..G pi m XIII " Wc two will stand beside that shrine. Occult, withheld, untrod. Whose lamps tremble continually With prayer sent up to God ; And where each need, revealed, expects Its patient period. r\ x:i /:\ \ THE OvO^O^.OvO^,OvO»>Ot>OfwO^:O^.Of^o^.OvCl^o>CKO^o^O^O»■0>^ XV " And I myself will teach to him — I myself, lying so, — The songs I sing here ; which his mouth Shall pause in, hushed and slow. Finding some knowledge at each pause And some new thing to know/* wMi '^Jot}>is5!MCo\^o\>.o\jcy\j>x^O'^6\.ct^ THE g^IFTEENTH VE^SE ^ THE SIXTEENTH VEI^SE i \f w S7 V' XVI (Alas ! to her wise simple mind These things were all but known Before : they trembled on her scnse,- Her voice had caught their tone. Alas for lonely Heaven I Alas For life wrung out alone ! XVII Alas, and though the end were reached? . . . Was thy part understood Or borne in trust ? And for her sake Shall this too be found good ? — May the close lips that knew not prayer Praise ever, though they would ?) w^ V K' <> v!/ ^-^^ ... (« ^ S>/ -V I THE SEVENTEENTH VE%SE } THE EIGHTEENTH VE%SE i k-f_l_»_»_»_l_l-t^l-l_t,l,^_».^_J_».l.l.^ XVIII "We two/^ she said, "will seek the groves Where the lady Mary is. With her five handmaidens, whose names Are five sweet symphonies :— Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen, Margaret, and Rosalys. t — # — * XIX '' Circle-wise sit they, with bound locks And bosoms covered ; Into the fine cloth, white like flame, Weaving the golden thread. To fashion the birth-robes for them Who arc just born, being dead. /"-^-^-^-t-^t — %-• — % — I —♦—t — t~t THE NINETEENTH VEIiSE ^ THE TWENTIETH VE^SE i He shall fear haply, and be dumb. Then I will lay my cheek To his, and tell about our love, Not once abashed or weak : And the dear Mother will approve My pride, and let me speak. XXI " Herself shall bring us, hand in hand, To Him round whom all souls Kneel — the unnumbered solemn heads Bowed with their aureoles : And Angels, meeting us, shall sing To their citherns and citolcs. [<«. THE TWENTY-^IRST VEIiSE ^ THE TWENTY-SECOND VE'^SE ^ ^-^^^ xxn ** There will I ask of Christ the Lord Thus much for him and me : — To have more blessing than on earth In nowise ; but to be As then we were, — being as then At peace. Yea, verily. dK^ ^li^ .? THE TWENTY-THIRD VE^SE i THE TWENTY-FOURTH VE^iSE ^ XXIV K She gazed, and listened, and then said, Less sad of speech than mild ; ** All this is when he comes/^ She ceased The light thrilled past her, filled With Angels, in strong level lapse. Her eyes prayed, and she smiled. ^^^S^ XXV X (I saw her smile.) But soon their flight Was vague ^mid the poised spheres. And then she cast her arms along The golden barriers, And laid her face between her hands, And wept. (I heard her tears.) mml ''' '•'7732'"' *'•'** TWENTY-3'IFTH VE%SE ^ i 4 X 1 sfaR^Hjl a I ,^**;55^*«^^^^^a p ^^m TumbuH & Spears Printers, Edinburgh OF CALT • / y 395782 UNIVERSITY OF CAUFORNIA UBRARY .^^1 '^T