THE LIBRARY THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES POEMS OLD AND NEW MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED LONDON BOMBAY CALCUTTA MELBOURNE THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW YORK BOSTON CHICAGO ATLANTA SAN FRANCISCO THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD. TORONTO POEMS OLD AND NEW BY MARGARET L. WOODS AUTHOR OF ' A VILLAGE TRAGEDY,' ' ESTHER VANHOMRIGH,' 'THE INVADER,' ETC. MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON 1907 PR NOTES MY thanks are due to Messrs. Duckworth for permission to include ' The Ballad of the Maiden and the Water-Spirit ' and two other passages from The Princess of Hanover in this collection. To Mr. Elkin Matthews for permission to include ' March Thoughts from England,' ' April,' ' The Mariners Sleep by the Sea,' and ' The Child Alone.' To Messrs. Smith Elder for permission to reprint ' The Builders,' ' The May Morning and the Old Man,' ' The Ballad of the Sea- Born Man,' The Ballad of the Wizard,' from the Cornhill Magazine, a song and * The Ballad of the Mother,' from Wild Justice. The Editor of the Fortnightly for permis- sion to reprint ' The Passing Bell ' and the portion of the ' Mad Shepherdess ' already published. vi POEMS OLD AND NEW The Editor of the New Review for per- mission to reprint ' A Song of Home-Coming.' THE BUILDERS On August 17, 1902, the Colonial troops in England for the Coronation of King Edward VII., attended a special service in Westminster Abbey, held at their own desire. THE BALLAD OF THE MOTHER I am indebted for the first lines of this ballad to the following two lines quoted in Wuthering Heights : It was far in the night, and the bairnies grat, The mither beneath the mools heard that. THE BALLAD OF THE WIZARD The enumeration of spirits by their colours was usual among would-be wizards and witches. The charm-song used in Macbeth is found also in Middleton, and was very probably a common form. CONTENTS PAGt THE PASSING BELL ...... i THE BUILDERS. . . .14 To THE FORGOTTEN DEAD . . . -35 QUEEN OF ENGLAND . . . . -37 A SONG OF HOME-COMING .... 40 SONG AND DANCE ...... 44 MARCH THOUGHTS FROM ENGLAND ... 49 APRIL ........ 53 THE MAY MORNING AND THE OLD MAN . . 57 QUEM TU, MELPOMENE . . . .74 PASSING ........ 77 THE MARINERS SLEEP BY THE SEA ... 78 GAUDEAMUS IGITUR ...... 82 THE SOWERS ....... 87 THE SONG OF THE LUTE PLAYER ... 90 REST 93 viii POEMS OLD AND NEW PAGI GENIUS Loci ....... 95 GHOSTS ........ 97 TASSO TO LEONORA . . . . . .100 To THE EARTH ...... 103 THE CHILD ALONE .... . 109 TWILIGHT . . . . . 115 THE MAD SHEPHERDESS . . . . 117 THE GONDOLA OF LONDON . . . .129 NOCTURNE ... ... 132 THE BALLAD OF KING HOWARD'S DEATH . 135 THE BALLAD OF THE MOTHER . . . 144 THE BALLAD OF THE MAIDEN AND THE WATER- SPIRIT ..... .149 THE BALLAD OF THE WIZARD . 154 THE BALLAD OF THE SEA-BORN MAN . -159 SONGS I. ' LIKE THE WREATH' . . . .167 II. 'WHEN THE WORLD'S ASLEEP' . . .169 TIL 'THE WEARY MOON' . . 171 IV. 'SLEEP WE MUST' ..... 173 V. 'WHEN BERRIES REDDEN ON THE THORN'. 174 VI. 'WHETHER SLEEPING, WHETHER WAKING'. 176 THE PASSING BELL IN MEMORIAM GEORGII GRANVILLE BRADLEY S.T. P. Decani Westmonasteriensis Qui media nocte xni mensis Martii MCMIII Deo animam beatam reddidit SILENT the bell hung in the tower and waited. Under, in luminous channels of the city, The lights went whirling in a fiery swarm. Fathomless night Brooded in heaven with dim receded stars. 2 THE PASSING BELL Posuisti me in tenebrosis Silent the bell hung in the tower and waited. Far underneath raved the tempest of London, The shallow storm of our life, Under the abyss of everlasting silence. et in umbra mortis. The bell hung in the dark tower and waited. Beneath the bell, each in his sepulchre, Slept on the austere dead. In tenebris stravi lectulum One after one under the dominant tower The living laid them down, Even as the dead they rested, but their warm THE PASSING BELL 3 Life rested not, Life that pursues in slumber, Life that may never pause nor taste remission. et in pufoere dormiam. Aloof the bell brooded above the city. Then to the man watching beneath at midnight In the dark bell imprisoned voices whispered, Heard but of him watching beneath at midnight In the iron silence stirred spectres of sound. Cor meum conturbatum est^ Death with hounds of Fear stirred in the darkness. 4 THE PASSING BELL The ghosts of sound prisoned within the silence Eddied about the bell, voices of anguish : " O loose us, thou that watchest ! Rain us abroad, scatter us, a hail of fear, On dark roofs and the shining hurry of streets. Hear thou unheeding city, drunken with Life! Hear ye souls of Life, Whether of those that sleep or those that waken ! formido mortis cecidit super me Such is the doom of Death, none may escape it. " Lone must he lie, comfort may not come near him, THE PASSING BELL 5 The dead are separate from him and the living. Death will have no companions. Cold is his bed, what though with warmth encompassed. His homely bed, where long secure he slumbered, Falls from him, Death drags down the obscure abyss Slowly his fainting flesh. Darkened his eyes, never lamp may lighten them. Love cannot touch, Pity may not ap- proach him." sicut umbra quum dedinat. Silent the bell hung in the tower and waited. Still under silence urged the spectral voices : 6 THE PASSING BELL "Ye whose perpetual pulses rock your slumber With hushed beat of Life, ye that keep vigil, Hear the word of Death ! The just man dies, the sinners also perish, Death hath but one dominion. Units introitus est One is the end, whether ye rest or labour, Whether ye seek wisdom or else pursuing Pleasure or power toil. omnibus ad vitam, Death with indifferent hand prepares one guerdon, With darkness fills the brain and the hands with dust. et similis exitus. Now is the hour of Death and the hour of Birth. THE PASSING BELL 7 "Ye that bring forth to-night in the obscure city, Unto what end the anguish of your travail ? Sic et nos nati His mother bore with pain, yet with rejoicing All Death inherits Him who with pain here is from life released. desivimtis esse. Now shall the bell utter the word of Death." Lo in profound night, when hardly audible, London beneath, whispering, stirred as in slumber. Far above it, above its wandering mists, Under the tranquil stars, 8 THE PASSING BELL Solemn and deep the bell spoke in the silence : Pax Dei Spoke as alone with God in benedic- tion. " Peace to all souls, calm after toil and tumult, Peace as of him whose labour is accom- plished, Praise unto God for life and death con- summate, Thanks to God the giver ! " High, as above the earth a spirit ascended, Pausing, pronounced the great word of blessing, quae exsuperat omnem sensum. The deep bell spoke in the gulf of mid- night. THE PASSING BELL 9 The mighty voice, having communed with silence, Rolled o'er the immense city resonant In long waves of sound, Qui confidunt in Ilk intelligent veritatem. Death unto Life uttering high messages. Even as a wind sweeps from the face of heaven, Heaps under foot, confused and moun- tainous mass, The crested clouds, showing in sudden Height beyond height, the stars, So from the face of Life triumphant Death Scatters and drives the dim clouds of living. In lumine Tuo videbimus lumen. Life re-emerges, tranquil, shining, august. io THE PASSING BELL So did the man watching beneath at midnight Hear how the sound of Death Over the city hung in benediction. It blessed the calm dead, the strenuous living, All souls of the just. Hidden in dark rooms of the teeming city, Spirits of love heard it, consoled in slumber, Pax est electis Ejus. And Peace replenished the deep wells of the soul. Birth also it blessed, and the joy of mothers ; For so in the old time, the hardly re- membered, The bright soul of the dead THE PASSING BELL 1 1 Came unto earth, welcome and meet to be welcomed. Now having achieved, enlightened, en- joyed, Welcome the dear soul returns to its Father. Justorum autem animae Now is the hour of Death and the hour of Birth. He who below the tower mourned in his vigil, Under that sound heard the impenetrable Majestic silence of sepultured Time ; And heard the dead man's years Falling as water falls, spilt from a cup Into the weltering, vague, transforming sea. So did the counted years Fall and be mingled with the infinite Past. 12 THE PASSING BELL in manu Dei sunt. The bell tolled them down into Eternity. The long ebb of Life, hushed in sub- sidence, He heard and all waters Flowing to the vast, unfruitful, infinite sea. Beheld risen from the sea, the eternal waters Forever feeding, adorning the fruitful earth. Also the dead man's years, Secret, diffused, feeding the heart of the world ; Non tangel illos tormentum mortis. And shroudless stars brightening about the earth. THE PASSING BELL 13 Then in the tower, under the assembled stars, Over the sceptred dead, the ministrant living, Each in their place of rest, He saw one Angel brood, toil and repose Blessing, the Angel of the ineffable Peace. Pax in aetetnum Dei. Slowly the bell ceased on the listening midnight. THE BUILDERS A NOCTURNE IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY AUGUST 17, 1902 ON what dost thou dream, solitary all the night long, Immense, dark, alone, shrine of a world ? Hardly more silent in old long-buried cities The empty shrines and immemorial tombs Of extinct gods and kings of perished empires ; For they hear in flood -time, a vast and urgent whisper, Great rivers flowing, the moon looks on them. 14 THE BUILDERS 15 And thou hearest Sweep around thy silent shores for ever The dim roar of London. The moon looks on Thebes, looks on the valley Of buried kings, on enormous ruined Karnak ; She beholds Baalbek, with her wan indifference Beholds where once Babylon was, nothing. On thee seldom she looks, For a cloud hides thee by day, a fiery cloud Shadows thee by night, the intense atmosphere Of ardent life. Yet on thee also the moon will sometimes look, Her cold fire of heaven, penetrating, pure, Burn in the South, Pouring silver light where he sleeps ethereal, The delicate fervent seer of all thy memories. 1 6 THE BUILDERS Now darkness prevails, unfathomed night Hath not conceived the moon ; Now over all thy graves the drowning dark Spaciously flows. ii And what if darkness be there, over all thy graves ? Thou art never wholly obscure, for the stars and the moon That illume and darken dead cities are seldom for thee, But the living light of London, that is thine own. Flame upon flame It is strung on the edge of the roaring, hurrying street, Fevered it shakes in the gust of the whirling city; THE BUILDERS 17 Here calm and estranged It floats and fades, weaving a shadowy woof In the solemn deep of thy grey ascending arches. Far in their hollow night the glimmer of London Is woven with texture of dreams, phantoms are there, Vaguely drifting, as pale-winged wandering moths Drift on the summer dark out of the abyss. Who has beheld them, the feeling tenuous hands, About the stone clinging, the carven crumbling Work that they wrought ere they lay in forgotten graveyards ? Poor blind hands ! c 1 8 THE BUILDERS As wan sea-birds cling on untrodden ledges And pinnacles of a lone precipitous isle Or giant cliff, where under them all is mist And the sullen booming of an unpacified sea, So do the phantoms cling on thy wind-worn ledges And a6ry heights, thou grey isle of God. When the stars are muffled and under them all the earth Is a fiery fog and the sinister roar of London, They lament for the toil of their hands, their souls' travail ' Ah, the beautiful work ! ' It was set to shine in the sun, to companion the stars, To endure as the hills, the ancient hills, endure, Lo, like a brand It lies, a brand consumed and blackened of fire, In the fierce heart of London. THE BUILDERS 19 Wail no more, blind ghosts, be comforted, Ye who performed your work and silent withdrew To your grand oblivion ; ye who greatly builded, Beyond the hand's achievement, the soul's presage. in Fain would my spirit, My living soul beat up the wind of death To the inaccessible shore and with warm voice Deep-resonant of the earth, salute the dead : Like him who in corporeal substance climbed The Mount of Absolution and saw before him His shadow move, whereon the unbodied souls Looked marvelling and held far off converse. But he spake to them of Earth, Of Italy, the towered familiar cities And wide shores Italian rivers wash. 20 THE BUILDERS I also would bring To the old unheeded spirits news of Earth ; Of England, their own country, choose to tell them, And how above St. Edward's bones the Minster Gloriously stands, how it no more beholds The silver Thames broadening among green meadows And gardens green, nor sudden shimmer of streams And the clear mild blue hills : Rather so high it stands the whole earth under Spreads boundless and the illimitable sea. It beholds the Himalayas and the peopled plains The five rivers water, alien fields Of other verdure, old strange-coloured towns Of the ancient East. THE BUILDERS 21 It beholds the flashing web of new-made cities Shot through with cars and a-throb with humming wires, The wheel of Life spinning with fierce motion In adolescent worlds under tyrannous skies : Unnumbered flocks it sees Wild shepherds shear, and the blue shimmer of gum-trees Deep in the bush, immense, parched, snake- haunted. Beyond our colourless factories and lone farms, Grey by wan-willowed bournes, far, far away, It sees exotic fruit and scarlet flowers In gaudy markets under the groves of palm, Where a blue wave sleeps on crystalline sand. It looks on the grim edge of Arctic night And gold-hunters frozen upon their prey, Looks upon ice-bound ships, 22 THE BUILDERS On billowing plains of wheat and tropic hills, Hung with great globes of oranges and haunted All the night long by little wandering moons ; On immortal snow and everlasting summer. Behind our voyaging prows the constellations Plunge in the sea, the Bear head-foremost plunges, The shining-girdled Orion and Cassiopeia Fall from the zenith, falls the Northern Star : But O ye humble spirits, Ye proud servants of God, ye Builders of old, How far soever the forging engines drive, High under heaven's cope Is uplifted the work of your hands and your souls' travail See ! not ruined and dark but illumined, enriched THE BUILDERS 23 By solemn Time and the splendour of vast events, Death and immortal things. IV A point of light ! Listen a human voice ! The sentry pacing his round in the camp of the dead. Half imperceptible falls the footstep yonder, Silence engulfs it, a thing as passing and frail As an insect's flight under the caverned arches. Over what dust the atom footfall passes ! Out of what distant lands, by what adventures Superbly gathered To lie so still in the unquiet heart of London ! Is not the balm of Africa yet clinging About the bones of Livingstone ? Consider 24 THE BUILDERS The long life - wandering, the strange last journey Of this, the heroic lion-branded corpse, Still urging to the sea ! And here the eventual far-off deep repose. It passes over the rude majestic head And blue eyes of Lawrence. Hark ! Over Clyde and Outram's knightly heart. Ay, what fierce Oriental suns, what swords, What whirling of mad Jehads, what plagues of God Have scarred and seared these bodies and brains beneath, Marked with the brand of empire ! That footfall passes Over the old grim conquering Admiral's body, That once ran on the swift Atlantic surges THE BUILDERS 25 Hither and thither, tossing rudderless, To reach the inhospitable Scillian shore. And many another keen, indomitable, That swept in thunderous battle long ago Round England's ocean marches ; Men that have loved the salt spray's buffeting game Better than sport and better than the dance, To ride with the slant deck and mark the measure Of the sluicing scupper's wash and the clap of the sail. And they lie shrouded here, for ever hidden From dews of night and the low-breathing air. Here even Dundonald rests. What dost thou, footfall, Pacing monotonous over him ? For he Surely far out on a gaunt wind - ravaged headland, 26 THE BUILDERS A Viking corpse, should be buried sitting upright In the black ship with his battle-comrades about him. Nay, he sleeps well. Nightly that footfall tells him tho' the grave is dark, It is always dark, yet a still light is floating Yonder among the banners, and all are there. But the grave is always dark, it is hushed for ever, There shall no sound triumphal, or consolation Enter therein, or remembrance or any grief. Wise compassionate death ! I accept the silence, the calm, neither with weeping THE BUILDERS 27 Nor the odour of new crowns come now to thy sleepers ; I who once in the solemn empty Abbey, In the winter evening alone, when all had departed, Came with tears, came with the rose and the laurel, Ah, how fain to arouse him In the fresh grave ! left him there with his laurels For the poet head, for his dear heart the roses. They are loosed from the wheel of Life, they roll no more With a clash of engines under rolling skies, They are set free From the arduous mind, the incessant body free, From all their labours rest. 28 THE BUILDERS VI Yet in a vision Of old St. Edward saw the Seven Sleepers At Ephesus, and lo ! they turned in their sleep. Not for a crying of names, their forgotten names, Hollow sounds in an empty gulf of time, Or any mourner's tears : But they turned in the King's dream as they heard in their slumber The shout of a wedding made by the hosts of the Lord. For with noise of war and garments rolled in blood, The foam of the North in his hair and a song of the South On his male lips, the bridegroom came to the bride. THE BUILDERS 29 There went a torch before him in heaven, behind The earth was a shudder of fire, And wrapped in a veil blood-red was brought to the bridal, That bride long ago : England was born. VII And I in a vision beheld how mightier sleepers, The famous English dead, stirred in their sleep, The Makers of old, the men who greatly builded, Who made things to be, who builded empire. They for no footfall of individual life In my dream awoke or the foolish roar of the crowd 30 THE BUILDERS Such could not violate the grand repose But methought they heard the feet of the Sons of Fate. Whence came the rumour of feet ? From the ends of the earth, from the four winds of heaven. Whence came the pilgrim feet ? Over salt seas, through fire and the shadow of death. VIII Loosely marching, brown in their battle-worn dress, The pilgrims passed through the languid August town, Came with new vows, with offerings unfore- known Of young eventful Time, by roads how new Drawn to the ancient doors, the ancestral shrine. THE BUILDERS 31 The splendid Future is theirs, but they are not content, They have said to the glorious past, " Thou, too, shalt be ours." Wherefore the tongues of stone that centuries long Have echoed our fathers' voice of prayer and praise, Moaned to the dirge of England's dead and rung To the proud acclaim of her kings, answered again These tongues attuned to unheard cadences, Echoing the ancient prayer and solemn praise. Then through the vaults of night an Echo ran, Crying to the dead, " Behold the inheritors And harvest of your lives ! " bidding resound Once more a hushed lyre. 32 THE BUILDERS "Awake thou lover of England, laureate son! Time, the dumb earth, and the inarticulate soul Of a Titan race conceive great images And epic thoughts, far - looming secular pomps And dasdal pageantries demand thee. Rise, Thou deep voice of England ! " IX But the dead are sleeping. They have fought the good fight, they have finished their course. To us the inheritance, to us the labour, To us the heroic, perilous, hard essay, New thoughts, new regions, unattempted things. THE BUILDERS 33 Not in the footsteps of old generations Our feet may tread ; but high compelling spirits, Ineluctable laws point the untrodden way Precipitous, draw to the uncharted sea. Again and yet again the appointed angel, A pillar of fire before this murmuring people, Moves beckoning on, again and yet again The dragon-haunted untractable wilderness They must adventure, or make the Grand Refusal And die forsaken of God the despised death. x On what dost thou dream, solitary all the night long, Immense, dark, alone, shrine of a world ? Thou, in the one communion of thy bosom Gatherest the centuries, their brooding silence D 34 THE BUILDERS Informs thy dark, a live incessant voice, London about thee clamours ephemeral things. And thou listenest to hear Its hidden undertone, thou art ever listening To the deep tides of the world under all the seas Drawing to thee, and the slow feet of fate. TO THE FORGOTTEN DEAD To the forgotten dead, Come, let us drink in silence ere we part. To every fervent yet resolved heart That brought its tameless passion and its tears, Renunciation and laborious years, To lay the deep foundations of our race, To rear its mighty ramparts overhead And light its pinnacles with golden grace. To the unhonoured dead. To the forgotten dead, Whose dauntless hands were stretched to grasp the rein Of Fate and hurl into the void again 35 3 6 TO THE FORGOTTEN DEAD Her thunder-hoofed horses, rushing blind Earthward along the courses of the wind. Among the stars, along the wind in vain Their souls were scattered and their blood was shed, And nothing, nothing of them doth remain. To the thrice-perished dead. QUEEN OF ENGLAND From " The Princess of Hanover " WHAT were it to be Queen of England? Answer, Shade of the illustrious dead ! Were it to pack, distil into one brain The master-thought of millions, in one bosom To house a love great as a million loves And manifold as they ; one word, " My People," Being in your mouth what mother, spouse, child, lover Mean upon other lips your soul's main utterance And key to your entire life ? Then comes the reward. 37 38 QUEEN OF ENGLAND Consider it, women, you whose. happiness Is lightly blown from ephemeral joy to joy, Maidenhood, beauty, motherhood, ere it fall Unwinged and spent with half your years. Consider What 'twere to be a queen, A queen of men, not marketable serfs. Perchance you lean out from your balcony One spring day, in the prime and rapture of youth, And mark the immense crowd billowing beneath, A sea of worshipping eyes, a ripple of hands Claiming you theirs, lifting you to the height Of their hearts' throne all fathers, lovers, friends, All yours and yours for ever. These are the Immortals, Not to be changed by mutability Of the inconstant blood, or alienated QUEEN OF ENGLAND 39 By circumstance, or in the unfeeling grave To slumber careless. You the years will change, The small mechanic hours, you will grow old, Dim-hearted, cinder-grey, will drop your playthings One after one Ay, but on any day Choose you come forth, outstretching crooked hands, Like those youth mocks, whispering with faded mouth, Such as men scorn, " My People " and lo, the Immortals ! A sea of worshipping eyes, a ripple of hands Claiming you with the old rapture, lifting you To the height of their hearts' throne, yours as in youth, Yours on through age to death sons, lovers, friends. A SONG OF HOME-COMING DARK and cold on the far battle-field My comrades' blood is lying. Cover their grave with the laurel sheen, O let the laurel grow there ! Dark and cold is the blood that was shed, But the blood in my heart is warm and red, To the rapid drum it oft replies, And swiftly must it flow there. Dawn and dark on the far battle-field Shall find their grave left lonely ; But rivers wide around it sweep And ever gently fold them. 40 A SONG OF HOME-COMING 41 For the shining rivers that round them sweep Are flowing salt and warm and deep, Unbeheld of human eyes O eyes of God behold them ! Sound is their sleep on the lone battle-field Who have finished their work and are weary, And sighing ghosts on shroudy wings That grieve there do not grieve them. Mourning ghosts that have wandered far Where a blind wind blows under many a star, Spirits of pain whose peace is o'er O peace of God receive them ! Comrades we sailed for the far battle-field, We stood on the ship together, To the mighty voice of a people's pride A prouder voice returning ; 42 A SONG OF HOME-COMING And brave eyes smiled on us, dim with pain, Where the long quay roared in a blur of rain. Sombre ships return no more, To bring the brave eyes mourning ! My comrades lie on the lone battle-field, And the racing ships run homeward. Cover their grave with the laurel sheen ! But the banners are dancing o'er us. The banners are dancing my heart above, They are talking together of joy and love. O life that is snatched out of death is sweet, And good the years before us ! Wait us awhile on the far battle-field, Till the phantom years have faded, All, all forgotten, the sweet time and sad, Homeward to you we shall wander. A SONG OF HOME-COMING 43 Far away our dust may lie, Under the stone or under the sky, But one by one we shall muster and meet In the camp of our glory yonder. Life and Death from the lone battle-field As a vapour at morn shall be lifted, All be forgot save the due that we paid And the day that our country remembers. In the hour of her need, for the battle of doom She will summon her dead, we shall rise from the tomb, She shall kindle the hearts of her sons with our blood, And the fires of her watch with our embers. Late or soon on the wide battle-field We comrades all shall be lying. Cover our graves with the laurel sheen, O let the laurel grow there ! SONG AND DANCE From " The Princess of Hanover" [SCENE. A terrace with steps leading down to a formal garden. It is dusk on a summer evening, with a full moon rising, and bands of masquers^ some carrying torches, -pass along it and descend the steps.] FIRST BAND OF MASQUERS IN the cool young dawn of the summer morn Fresh buds open fairest Come away ! But every scent that yields content At eventide is rarest. Come away ! Now the evening closes. 44 SONG AND DANCE 45 SECOND BAND Under the moon, over petals strewn, Wander souls of roses, In the alleys dim where the fountains brim, Softly they are sighing. Come away ! Now the dusk is dying. THIRD BAND Under the moon in a night of June Such a night as this is They are fluttering free from the red rose tree, And falling there in kisses. Come away ! Come away ! [Another band of masquers come in dancing. They bring music with them, and sing as they dance.] 46 SONG AND DANCE Viol and flute No more be mute, Come dancing, dancing, dancing ! Fa, la, la ! Mark the measure ! Here is pleasure ! Praise no longer love and wine, Cupid's bow or Bacchus' vine, I'd give them both for dancing ! Fa, la, la ! Topers you Join not our crew, Who trip and fleet On airy feet And wings of music dancing ! Fa, la, la ! Lovers who, Two and two, Wander rapt in charmed gazing, Not for you the flute is phrasing SONG AND DANCE 47 Fairy calls across the dew. Here no sighing Fancy fools us, Only merry Music rules us. Flying here and there pursuing, Only true to Music's wooing, Side by side We sway and glide, Now we link and now divide, We smiling serve And gaily swerve From fair to fair in dancing. Fa, la, la ! Lightly trip, Hand on hip, She who's featest Shall be sweetest, Beauty's brows out-shining. Now again Link the chain, One with other swiftly twining 48 SONG AND DANCE Ring on ring Wind and swing, Slower now, round around, Till, our woven maze unwound, Hand in hand We revellers stand And sing the praise of dancing. Fa, la, la ! MARCH THOUGHTS FROM ENGLAND O THAT I were lying under the olives, Lying alone among the anemones ! Shell-coloured blossoms they bloom there and scarlet, Far under stretches of silver woodland, Flame in the delicate shade of the olives. O that I were lying under the olives f Grey grows the thyme on the shadowless headland, The long low headland, where white in the sunshine The rocks run seaward. It seems suspended Lone in an infinite gulf of azure. 49 E 50 MARCH THOUGHTS There were I lying under the olives, Might I behold come following seaward, Clear brown shapes in a world of sunshine, A russet shepherd, his sheep too, russet. Watch them wander the long grey headland Out to the edge of the burning azure. O that I were lying under the olives ! So should I see the far-off cities Glittering low by the purple water, Gleaming high on the purple mountain ; See where the road goes winding southward. It passes the valleys of almond blossom, Curves round the crag o'er the steep-hanging orchards, Where almond and peach are aflush 'mid the olives Hardly the amethyst sea shines through them Over it cypress on solemn cypress Lead to the lonely pilgrimage places. MARCH THOUGHTS 51 O that I were dreaming under the olives ! Hearing alone on the sun -steeped head- land A crystalline wave, almost inaudible, Steal round the shore ; and thin, far off, The shepherd's music. So did it sound In fields Sicilian, Theocritus heard it, Moschus and Bion piped it at noontide. O that I were listening under the olives ! So should I hear behind in the woodland The peasants talking. Either a woman, A wrinkled grandame, stands in the sun- shine, Stirs the brown soil in an acre of violets Large odorous violets and answers slowly A child's swift babble ; or else at noon The labourers come. They rest in the shadow, Eating their dinner of herbs, and are merry. 52 MARCH THOUGHTS Soft speech Proven9al under the olives ! Like a queen's raiment from days long perished, Breathing aromas of old unremembered Perfumes and shining in dust-covered places With sudden hints of forgotten splendour So on the lips of the peasant his language, His only now, the tongue of the peasant. Would I were listening under the olives ! So should I see in an airy pageant A proud chivalrous pomp sweep by me, Hear in high courts the joyous ladies Devising of Love in a world of lovers : Hear the song of the Lion-hearted, A deep-voiced song and oh ! perchance, Ghostly and strange and sweet to madness, Rudel sing the Lady of Tripoli. APRIL O COME across the hillside ! The April month is here, The lamb-time, the lark-time, the child-time of the year. The wren sings on the sallow, The lark above the fallow, The birds sing everywhere, With whistle and with holloa The labourers follow The shining share, And sing upon the hillside in the seed-time of the year. 53 54 APRIL O come into the hollow, for Eastertide is here, And pale below the hillside the budding palms appear. The silver buds a-blowing Their yellow bloom are showing To woo the bee ; The bee awhile yet drowses, But the drunken moth carouses All night upon the tree, And dreams there in the dawning of the Spring-time of the year. O come into the woodland ! The primroses are here, And down in the woodland beneath the grasses sere, As in a wide dominion, How many a pretty minion Of Spring to-day, APRIL 55 Where warm the sunshine passes Thro' the forest of the grasses, Awakes to play, To sport there in the sun-time, the play-time of the year. O come across the hillside, for now the Spring is here, Come child with your laughter, your pretty April cheer. Your fantasy possesses The airy wildernesses, The shrill lark's dower, The forest and the blossom, The earth and in her bosom The mouse's bower ; The sunlight and the starlight of the Spring- time of the year. 56 APRIL O come into the wide world ! For you the Spring is here, The blue heaven is smiling, the young earth carols clear. Come happy heart to wonder, Come eager hands to plunder The wide world's store, The meadow's golden glory, The shining towers of story On Dreamland's shore, To reign there all the song-time, the child- time of the year. THE MAY MORNING AND THE OLD MAN i The Morn is very clear, the young Morn Looks on the Earth, imagining all the Earth Is as herself, new-born. She beholds the hills, the dim colourless hills Over the City of Towers Dark in the valley ; drowning mists flow round it, Ghosts of dead rivers, stealing through the valley. Morn smiles on the Earth. Answering, the hills put on their colours clear, Toung corn and copses gay and hawthorn trees 57 58 THE MAY MORNING Fair as enchanted towers Built of young dreams and bright with dawns from afar, Out of silver mist uprises the blond City. It is Morn y it is May, And Earth a moment imagines herself new-born. ii But the Old Man For him it never can be morn again. Beside the haystack in the field he slept, But weary is he yet, though he has slumbered. The load is very light upon his shoulders, Tet are his shoulders bowed, And like a laden man he climbs the hill : He cannot dream his youth returned again. Slowly he climbs, his shadow creeps Before him, climbing the long white hill. His shadow is weary and backward creeps, AND THE OLD MAN 59 Hanging about his weary feet. The climbing lark sings overhead. And hark ! the merry bicyclists, Behind him on the hill. THE BICYCLISTS' REVEILL& Under the hedges the parsley is white, The hedges are white with May, Hither we come in the early light, In the fresh of the waking day. Listen, listen and follow ! There's a sunbeam star on your window-pane, The cuckoo cries, " We are here." And the swish of the wheel down the long white lane Merrily hums in your ear. Listen, listen and follow ! Swooping and skimming high in their flight, Mock us, our mates of the air. 60 THE MAY MORNING Up from the valley and down from the height, Farther than you shall we fare. Listen, listen and follow ! The workaday world has foundered afar, Under the sheen of the dew. Come where a world like a flower, like a star, Spins for an hour in the blue. Listen, listen and follow ! They have climbed the hill, they have conquered the height, They meet new airs from distant skies, Telling how far and fair it lies, The Land of Morn, the undiscovered. And swiftly springing from earth away, As birds on rush of wings speeding, Over the brow the bicyclists hurry To the uninhabited, undiscovered Wonderful world of Youth and Morning. AND THE OLD MAN 61 in The solitary fields are wide Where bright the narrow rivers run. The buttercups of burnished gold Uplift their triumph in the sun. THE BUTTERCUPS Brave, brave banners of gold ! See how we wave Banners of gold, Lift them up from the dark mould ! Sun, sun, flower of the skies ! We too have begun. Thou dost the skies We the gilded Earth surprise. Earth, Air, never were seen Half so fair Before, with sheen Of gold above their blue and green. 62 THE MAY MORNING Bright wings, messengers bold, Tell how the Spring's Banners of gold Flaming over the Earth unfold ! In the Land of Youth and Morning All things seem but new begun^ The Wonder and the Joy of Life Uplift their triumph in the Sun. IV THE BICYCLISTS Hither away where the waters gleam And meadows are buttercup-dyed, Over arches grey where Time is a dream And rivers of Avalon glide ! Listen, listen and follow ! Silver gauze the mists are floating , Silver gleams the rivers showing AND THE OLD MAN 63 Among the golden, golden fields Where willows spread their veils of green. The Old Man comes to the brow alone. He does not behold the Land of Morning^ But far away he beholds familiar hills. And in the fallow ', solitary And old as he is solitary Himself and old, he sees a man, A tall man, leaning upon his hoe. The wanderer fain would speak awhile, Telling the sorrow of his soul And all his weariness to one That like himself is old. His voice is high and his speech sways Slowly with slow words, as the boughs In wind of summer sway ; for so Did country folk talk long ago. 64 THE MAY MORNING First Old Man. Mester, be't vur to Chillingbourne ? Second Old Man. To Chillingbourne ? ist O. M. Ay, for 'tis yonder I must go. To Chillingbourne acrass the down. 2nd 0. M. Why, Mester, that's a longish road, To Chillingbourne, a steepish road. Clear over hills you see un climb, Yonder so white's a thread he goes Betwix the Clumpes and away To Chillingbourne beyond the downs. ist O. M. How vur be't, Mester, do 'ee know ? 2nd O. M. Nay, Mester, but a longish road. Myself I never took no j'y In travelling, nor can rightly tell How fur it be, but a great way To Chillingbourne across the downs. AND THE OLD MAN 65 ist O. M. It bean't for j'y I taak the road. But, Mester, I be getten awld. Do seem as though in all the e'th There bean't no plaice, No room on e'th for awld volk. 2nd O. M. The e'th do lie Yonder, so wide as Heaven a'most, And God as made un Made room, I warr'nt, for all Christian souls. ist O. M. The Union, Mester, Wer plaice for me, they said. Aw dear ! Yet I can work and toil more willin* Than young uns will. The world, Mester, It be so changed, so changed it be ! They wun't gi' no work to awld volk. 2nd O. M. Nay, Mester, I do get a job Most times o' year, for folks do know me Through all the plaace. Ha'n't ee no frien's Down yonder, where ee come from ? Home Be best, to my thinking. 66 THE MAY MORNING ist O. M. Hwome be best, Ay that it be ! I wer a straanger At Marlden. Now as Jean be dead, Union they said wer plaace for me. They're cruel hard at Marlden, Mester. ind O. M. Ay, Mester, that be hard. ist O. M. I wer a straanger And furrin like down Marlden way. " Mesters," says I, " I be agwine hwome." Vor I wer barn at Chillingbourne, At Chillingbourne acrass the down. ind O. M. God give ee luck and bring ee safe, For, Mester, you've a longish road To travel. Won't ee wet yer throat And eat a bit for company ? ist O. M. Well I wun't say But I'll be glad o' summat, Mester. ind 0. M. Us can sit down Under the May-bush. He do smell AND THE OLD MAN 67 Sweeter nor spices, what were brought To Solomon in all his glory. Lord it do seem Like yesterday I heard un tell In church o' myrrh and frankincense And pomegranate, and kep on smelling At hawthorn-flower stuck in my coat : Yet I were a lad then. ist O. M. Time he do pass. ind O. M. So smooth and slick as water run Under a bridge. There's many a while I've leaned and watched un run as clear Over saame pebbles and the shaade O' bridge a-movin'. 'Twere hard to think it never wer The saame water, but allays passing And changing. That be so's our years, To my thinking. ist O. M, Time do pass. 68 THE MAY MORNING Be varty year come Lady Day Sin' I were hwome at Chillingbourne. ind O. M. Whoy, Mester, fourty year Be a longish time. Ye'll find a deal o' change. ist O. M. There wun't be nowt a-chaanged at Chillingbourne ; Chillingbourne be a main loansome plaace. When I were a chile A scarin' birds from the veald all the day, Up o' the downland agen the road, I mind the hours 'ud creep and go That slow, And niver nowt a-coming along the road ; Unless maybe dust marchin' with the wind. Nowt but a lark Overhead to hear, or a scud o' plover Passin' and cryin' loansome like. 2nd O. M. Ben't ee afeared to miss your way, Wi noOn to ask ? AND THE OLD MAN 69 ist 0. M. Not I, Mester ! I mind the way, the straat road To Chillingbourne acrass the down. But ee doan't see nowt o' tree nor house Till edge o' the hill ; Then plump onto roof o' church tower Seems ee med drop, and tops o' trees Wi* rooks beneath ee cawin' and flittin'. And ee see as plaan the length of the streat And th' a^ncient Cross Under the elm, what Cromwell broke. There bean't nowt a-chaanged yonder, No chaange, I warr'nt, at Chillingbourne. 2nd 0. M. And ee've gotten your friends yet a-livin' ? ist 0. M. Gearge he be shepherd at Manor Varm, There do he bide. My darter Jean, her's I've buried, Wrote to un unst and he made answer. 70 THE MAY MORNING How many years be that a-gone ? Naa"y, surely ! I cann't a-tell but Brother Gearge, Younger nor me by seven year, Ain't a-got no call to die. ind O. M. Death do go withouten order Up and down upon the earth. ist O. M. I tell ee Gearge Were a lusty chap ; and Vicar he knowed Why there ! The awld man be dead ! But new un, said Gearge, were a sight better. He'll find I a job, he will for sure. ind O. M. It's like he will. I ha' gotten a job Most times o' year. ist O. M. It be work I want But I were a straa"nger Marlden waay ; Went there courtin' my wife as died Aateen year come September. The las' day, AND THE OLD MAN 71 Mother were living, I mind her said : " Tom'll be sorry in time to come He bided away and never did wed Cousin Bessie." She married well Did Cousin Bess, and she ain't a-forgotten Me for sure, if she be alive. ind O. M. There be as remembers, there be as forgets. i st O. M. Well, I must be a-gettin' hwome ! I thankee, Mester, an' wish 'ee luck. Aw dear ! I never thowt, When sprack an' young I stepped awaay, How I'd come hwome ! I niver thowt I'd care to lay My boans at last where Mother's lie, In churchyard, under th' aancient tower. ind O. M. Good day to ee, Mester, an good luck ! I wish ee safe at journey's end Afore't be dark. 72 THE MAY MORNING 1st O. M. At vail o' night Curvew do ring to guide ee hwome To Chillingbourne acrass the down. The Old Man on his journey passed alone. That way his shadow led, straight down the road. Below him lay Earth in the gold and glory of the time, Rejoicing Earth, decked with the light of waters. But he beheld her not. Only beyond, Lovely and dim, he saw the remembered hills. VI THE BICYCLISTS' RETURN Back to the workaday world, the old, As errant mariners fleet, With spices laden and secret gold, Or lovers with thoughts more sweet. Listen, listen and follow ! AND THE OLD MAN 73 Back to the workaday world anew, To the crowd and the toil away ! But our hearts have been dipped in the morning dew And the light of the early day. Listen, listen and follow ! QUEM TU, MELPOMENE AH no ! you never loved the Muse, Then wherefore should the Muse love you ? Immortal maiden, free to choose, She does as the Immortals do. By amber morns and red moon-rises She roams the land in fair disguises, And hears the happy shepherd woo. The twilight's solitary tongue, The May-time and the flowering thorn, Old songs of poets newly sung, Old oaths of lovers newly sworn, Are sweet to her who ne'er remembers How every fire will leave but embers, And knows not that the world's outworn. 74 QUEM TU, MELPOMENE 75 The joy of larks that greet the day, The long cry of the nightingale, Are hers, as up the eastern way She meets the air of dawn, the frail First sunbeams on the dewy grasses, And ever singing, singing passes To bid him come who cannot fail. Ere yet she stands beside his door Out leaps the shepherd, morning-young. " O maid, where have we met before ? Where did you learn the song you sung ? ' So hand in hand with mingled tresses And happy sighs and half-caresses, They dream the quiet fields among. At eve, when sifted snows are white, By solitary ways she goes. The lonely house upon the height, The lonely hearth and him she knows 76 QUEM TU, MELPOMENE The dying embers drop together, Cold, cold without the wintry weather, And on his hair lie chiller snows. She flits about the shadowed room. " O art thou Age, thou hooded guest, Or Death ? " he questions in the gloom : And then his head is on her breast. The roof-tree buds, the roses cover The Muse, the young triumphant lover, The happy shepherd she has blest. PASSING WITH thoughts too lovely to be true, With thousand, thousand dreams I strew The path that you must come. And you Will find but dew. I set an image in the grass, A shape to smile on you. Alas ! It is a shadow in a glass, And so will pass. I break my heart here, love, to dower With all its inmost sweet your bower. What scent will greet you in an hour ? The gorse in flower. 77 "THE MARINERS SLEEP BY THE SEA" THE mariners sleep by the sea. The wild wind comes up from the sea, It wails round the tower, and it blows through the grasses, It scatters the sand o'er the graves where it passes, And the sound and the scent of the sea. The white waves beat up from the shore, They beat on the church by the shore, They rush round the grave-stones aslant to the leeward, 78 MARINERS SLEEP BY THE SEA 79 And the wall and the mariners' graves lying seaward, That are banked with the stones from the shore. For the huge sea comes up in the storm, Like a beast from the lair of the storm, To claim with its ravenous leap and to mingle The mariners' bones with the surf and the shingle That it rolls round the shore in the storm. There is nothing beyond but the sky, But the sea and the slow-moving sky, Where a cloud from the grey lifts the gleam of its edges, Where the foam flashes white from the shouldering ridges, As they crowd on the uttermost sky. 8o MARINERS SLEEP BY THE SEA The mariners sleep by the sea. Far away there's a shrine by the sea ; The pale women climb up the path to it slowly, To pray to Our Lady of Storms ere they wholly Despair of their men from the sea. The children at play on the sand, Where once from the shell-broidered sand They would watch for the sails coming in from far places, Are forgetting the ships and forgetting the faces Lying here, lying hid in the sand. When at night there's a seething of surf, The grandames look out o'er the surf, They reckon their dead and their long years of sadness, MARINERS SLEEP BY THE SEA 81 And they shake their lean fists at the sea and its madness, And curse the white fangs of the surf. But the mariners sleep by the sea. They hear not the sound of the sea, Nor the hum from the church where the psalm is uplifted, Nor the crying of birds that 'above them are drifted. The mariners sleep by the sea. GAUDEAMUS IGITUR COME, no more of grief and dying ! Sing the time too swiftly flying. Just an hour Youth's in flow'r, Give me roses to remember In the shadow of December. Fie on steeds with leaden paces ! Winds shall bear us on our races, Speed, O speed, Wind, my steed, Beat the lightning for your master, Yet my Fancy shall fly faster. 82 GAUDEAMUS IGITUR 83 Give me music, give me rapture ! Youth that's fled can none recapture, Not with thought Wisdom's bought. Out on pride and scorn and sadness ! Give me laughter, give me gladness. Sweetest Earth, I love and love thee, Seas about thee, skies above thee, Sun and storms, Hues and forms Of the clouds with floating shadows On thy mountains and thy meadows. Earth, there's none that can enslave thee, Not thy lords it is that have thee ; Not for gold Art thou sold, But thy lovers at their pleasure Take thy beauty and thy treasure. 84 GAUDEAMUS IGITUR While sweet fancies meet me singing, While the April blood is springing In my breast, While a jest And my youth thou yet must leave me, Fortune, 'tis not thou canst grieve me. When at length the grasses cover Me, the world's unwearied lover, If regret Haunt me yet, It shall be for joys untasted, Nature lent and folly wasted. Youth and jests and summer weather, Goods that kings and clowns together Waste or use As they choose, These, the best, we miss pursuing Sullen shades that mock our wooing GAUDEAMUS IGITUR 85 Feigning Age will not delay it When the reckoning comes we'll pay it, Own our mirth Has been worth All the forfeit light or heavy Wintry Time and Fortune levy. Feigning grief will not escape it, What though ne'er so well you ape it Age and care All must share, All alike must pay hereafter, Some for sighs and some for laughter. Know, ye sons of Melancholy, To be young and wise is folly. 'Tis the weak Fear to wreak On this clay of life their fancies, Shaping battles, shaping dances. 86 GAUDEAMUS IGITUR While ye scorn our names unspoken, Roses dead and garlands broken, O ye wise, We arise, Out of failures, dreams, disasters, We arise to be your masters. THE SOWERS WOE to the seed The winds carry O'er fallow and mead ! They do not tarry, They seek the sea, The barren strand, Where foam-flakes flee O'er the salt land. Where the sharp spray And sand are blown, In the wind's play The seed is sown. 87 88 THE SOWERS Falling on shore It cries, " The earth Opens her door ! There shall be birth " From thee far place, From thee fair hour, Splendour and grace Of leaf and flower." Falling on sea It cries, "Again Com'st thou to me, Refreshing rain " Only more great, More strong thou art Like to my fate, Like to my heart." THE SOWERS On barren shore, Or sullen wave, When storms are o'er It finds a grave. THE SONG OF THE LUTE PLAYER STILL as a star came to my breast A joy unbidden, Not to be known, not to be guessed, So fair, so hidden ; And now within 'tis like the starry night, The unimagined pure ethereal height, Trembling in loneliness at its own light. Heaven of my joy, fair though thou art, A light for ever, Yet there's a grief hid in my heart Like the great river. At times a little while it seems to sleep, And then a voice cries to it from the deep, And all its floods over my spirit sweep. 90 SONG OF THE LUTE PLAYER 91 Hast thou a joy ? Though but a flow'r O maiden, bring it. Though but a dream of morning hour, Yet will I sing it. And as a bird that calls its mate my strain Listen, the lute begins like falling rain Shall call the Spring and Spring return again. Hast thou a fear hid in thy heart, A sorrow sleeping ! Light though it be, soon to depart, I'll sing it weeping. The ruined shrines shall answer as I sing, In hollow tombs of many an ancient king Forgotten woes shall waken murmuring. Then in my song, maiden, I'll weave The world's emotion, Passion of souls that laugh and grieve, And Earth and Ocean. 92 SONG OF THE LUTE PLAYER The silver spheres shall hush awhile their quire, Saying, ' Return, lost star of our desire, Lend us again thy music and thy fire/ Only my joy, only my pain May not be spoken. These would I tell, earthward again The song drops broken. Sleeping I dream my joy, my sorrow sing. I wake the lonely night is listening To one long sigh, breathed from a shattered string. REST To spend the long warm days Silent beside the silent-stealing streams, To see, not gaze, To hear, not listen, thoughts exchanged for dreams : See clouds that slowly pass Trailing their shadows o'er the far faint down, And ripening grass, While yet the meadows wear their starry crown. To hear the breezes sigh Cool in the silver leaves like falling rain, Pause and go by, Tired wanderers o'er the solitary plain : 93 94 REST See far from all affright Shy river creatures play hour after hour, And night by night Low in the West the white moon's folding flower. Thus lost to human things, To blend at last with Nature and to hear What song she sings Low to herself when there is no one near. GENIUS LOCI PEACE, Shepherd, peace ! What boots it singing on ? Since long ago grace-giving Phoebus died, And all the train that loved the stream-bright side Of the poetic mount with him are gone Beyond the shores of Styx and Acheron, In unexplored realms of night to hide. The clouds that strew their shadows far and wide Are all of Heaven that visits Helicon. Yet here, where never muse or god did haunt, Still may some nameless power of Nature stray, 95 96 GENIUS LOCI Pleased with the reedy stream's continual chant And purple pomp of these broad fields in May. The shepherds meet him where he herds the kine, And careless pass him by whose is the gift divine. GHOSTS WHERE the columned cliffs far out have planted Their daring shafts in the Northern foam, There hangs a castle that should be haunted, A ruin meet for a phantom's home. For heavily in the caverns under The hidden tide like a muffled drum, Beats distinct through the level thunder Of the wintry waste whence storm-winds come. And fire has blackened the mouldering rafter, And stairs have crumbled from bolted doors ; 97 H 98 GHOSTS At night there's a sound of wail and laughter, And footsteps crossing the creaking floors. And in and out through the courts forsaken Wild shapes are drifted from hall to hall, With a trumpet sound the towers are shaken, And banners flutter along the wall. 'Tis but the storms and the seas enchant it, Its ghosts are shadow and wind and spray. If ever a phantom used to haunt it, That too was mortal and passed away. The ghosts have found where the hills embosom A windless garden they walk at noon, When the beds and branches burn with blossom, And hardly wait for the rising moon. GHOSTS 99 When the starry charm of the night is broken, And the day but lives as a child unborn, They pass with echoes of words once spoken And silent footsteps and eyes forlorn. They seem as shadows of morn and even, For ever fading to come again ; They are as shadows of tempest driven, Stormily sighing across the plain. For these depart as the rest departed, The garden under the hill shall be As ghost-forsaken, as past-deserted As the castle over the Northern sea. TASSO TO LEONORA I SHALL forget thee yea, I shall forget Thee and the Heavens that glorify the night, Those silver summits trembling in the light Of the descended moon, suns that have set, Earth and the shoreless waters, all that yet Has winged my soul for her tempestuous flight And dreams they send to seek me shall but light On some grey stone wreathed with the violet. 100 TASSO TO LEONORA 101 Mingling thy dust with men that knew thee not, Of me forgetful then thou'lt not complain, And all we were shall be so much forgot They who the history of our days rehearse Shall call my grief a phantom of the brain, Thy name a flower wrought on a poet's verse. ii Thou art a sword that's sheathed in my heart, To be by no adventure drawn again, A divine vintage flooding every vein With an immortal joy, even such thou art. The Maenad Hours amid their dancing start With haggard eyes from that empurpling stain. " Say ! Is it wine or blood? " they shriek in vain, And heavily with garments dyed depart. 102 TASSO TO LEONORA The Muse's self, the fierce relentless Muse Art thou, that doth in love of man delight, Kindling upon the lips her kisses choose A flame that shall eternally be bright, Fanned by Mnemosyne with fervent breath, And watched by those grim guardians, Time and Death. TO THE EARTH MISTRESS and slave of the sun, Dancer with shining feet, Gladly thou springest to greet The year that is new begun. Huntress who fliest with fleet Hounds of the glittering air, Again thou risest to chase the phantom year to its lair. Long ere the threescore and ten Pass us, the sum of our years, Empty their pageant appears, Old to the children of men. April with laughter and tears Tells a monotonous tale, 103 io 4 TO THE EARTH Winds of the Autumn in vain wildly and solemnly wail. Thou whom the ages bereave Autumn on Autumn, behold, Thou art not weary or cold ; Eagerly dost thou receive Sunshine and rain as of old, Comest again as a bride Crowned with immortal delight, dead to the years that have died. Hear, O ye planets, her voice ! The vast and jubilant strain Mountain and ocean and plain Utter when she doth rejoice. Surely the sound shall attain Through sunless spaces afar, Till it touch the silver heart of some high enthroned star. TO THE EARTH 105 No for thyself is the tale, But for thine own hast thou sung. Often the meadows among, Laid by the stream in the frail Shadow of April, there rung Round me the voice of delight, Murmur immense of the Earth joying alone in her might. Once like a lover I heard, Once like a lover I pressed Kiss after kiss on thy breast, Once all the rapture that stirred, Streamed from the South and the West, Flamed from the field and the sky, Seemed for my heart to exult, seemed to my soul to reply. io6 TO THE EARTH Ah, could one bosom, one brain Half of thine ecstasy hold ? Lifetime of mortal unfold One of thy mysteries ? Vain, Vain was the dream. As of old Messengers worn with the way Fell at the Delphian's gate, fall I before thee to-day. Hark how the Pythoness cries ! Priest to interpret is none, Never a word to be won Out of the rushing replies Echoes pursue ere they're done. Only I know 'twas a song Passed me, escaped ere it taught me too the joy of the strong. Well mayst thou, Mother, be glad, Great in a quenchless belief, TO THE EARTH 107 Well may we grow in our brief Journey indifferent or sad. Witnessing often the leaf Broaden and wither, we see Never the full up-shoot and branching growth of the tree. Thou hearest the giant heart Of a forest beating low In the seed that faint winds sow On an island far apart ; And thou canst measure the slow Lapse of the glittering sea, Where it falls and clings round the land like a robe at a bather's knee. Yea, thou hast witnessed the whole Age-long upbuilding of things ; Through the ephemeral Springs One indestructible soul, io8 TO THE EARTH Sleepless, unwearied, that brings Order from chaos at length, Out of the fading and weak infinite splendour and strength. THE CHILD ALONE 'Tis a pleasant thing to be free. Nobody knows, nobody guesses What I am doing, where I am straying. " Where is Marjorie ? " mother is saying. Julie, who loves to sit making her dresses, Says, " She is playing Under the tree." No through the jungle Marjorie passes. Sometimes I run, sometimes I stand Still in a covert of high-waving grasses, Over my head. Wilderness ways, uninhabited land, Lone I explore. 109 no THE CHILD ALONE Hares in the grass, mice where I tread, Look up and wonder ; Or the squirrel flashes Red as he dashes Over the leafy forest floor. Then in the tree High sits he And mocks me under ; While all of them, all of them wonder, wonder What I can be. I was a child, a little child, I am a happy creature wild. I used to have to run or walk As I was bid, be still or talk ; To shun the wind or sun or show'r, And then come in at such an hour. I was a child, a little child, I am a happy creature wild. THE CHILD ALONE in For see I wander like a deer That sniffs about the furrowed bole Of some great tree, or starts in fear From every leaf that trembles near ; Or neighing like a frolic foal That prances in a field at play, I gallop farther on my way. Sometimes a beech-mast tumbles thro', I strip it daintily to find The nut within its wooden rind, And nibbling sit as squirrels do. I was a child, a little child, I am a happy creature wild. Now, now again, Reversing the spell, Turning this plain Little ring on my finger, See I regain Form of a child, spirit as well. ii2 THE CHILD ALONE Yet I am free, no one can tell Margie to haste, come and not linger. Turn it again, thrice must it turn, Thrice the sunlight flicker and burn Deep in the heart of its single gem And see I ride from Jerusalem. I am a knight ; the paynim horde Have felt the weight of this good sword About the Sepulchre of Our Lord. 'Tis a sinister woodland deep and wide ; Alone I ride. Saint Hubert scatter the demon breed ! Mary Mother be my guide ! Up the glade at rushing speed, What comes shining, what comes sweeping ? 'Tis a band of mailed men And a lady passing fair, Whom they carry to their den Gleaming in her golden hair. THE CHILD ALONE 113 Ha ! I come, like lightning leaping, Thrust and hew mid caitiff clamour. Beat the stubborn thorn-bush down ! Cleave and rend the bracken's crown ! Not a stalk be left upright ! Now they know the paynim's hammer, Now they know King Richard's knight. Turn, turn again, Magical ring. I am a Dane, Cunning and brave, A pirate king. Swiftly I come over the wave. The shore, the Saxon town I see. The smoke hangs blue on roof and tree At evening over the little town. I hear the bells in the grey church tow'r. With fire and sword at midnight hour ii 4 THE CHILD ALONE I mean to harry and burn it down. But fierce as a wolf, as a raven wise, I come at first in a deep disguise To the little town. And when I climb to the nursery yonder They'll call me Marjorie, and wonder Why I should want to run away And be as any rabbit wild ; For I shall seem to be a child Named Marjorie. What would they say If they could know it was instead A pirate that they put to bed ? TWILIGHT COME, let us go, For now the grey and silent eve is low, The river reaches gleam, And dimly blue in windings of the stream Its heavy rushes bow. The day is past, the world is dreaming now, The world is dreaming now, let us too dream. And dreaming be The vision of our souls like this we see, Where unsubstantial skies Blend with the Earth's obscure realities. Let us recall the blind Forewandered years and round their temples bind Fresh coronals of lovelier memories. "5 u6 TWILIGHT For dreaming here We shall remember joys that never were, That might and might not be ; One rich remembrance with its alchemy Transmuting all Time's store, Till the sad years exult and deem they bore Only the long, long love 'twixt thee and me. THE MAD SHEPHERDESS A FRAGMENT \_A mountain pasture above a ravine. A valley below with bright green pastures and scattered houses and fruit-trees. The Mad Shepherdess sits on a stone, turning a distaff. She is small and old, and wears a black mantle over her head. Heteros, her familiar spirit, sits at her feet."] MAD SHEPHERDESS I AM the Mad Shepherdess, cold, so cold . Poor little feet, frozen and blue, Never a stocking and a wooden shoe ! 117 ii8 THE MAD SHEPHERDESS HETEROS No matter ! Put 'em down, measure 'em from side to side. How many inches in a world how wide ? Ha, ha, ha ! MAD SHEPHERDESS I am the Mad Shepherdess, lonely and old. When I was young, when I was twenty, Would I be sad, pity was plenty ; But now, but now I may go sorrow. Yet to be fair and fade to-morrow, Yet to be young so short a season, Were there not reason That one should sorrow ? HETEROS Yet to be old, be sick and lone, Lastly, to die ! Was ever known Grief so uncommon ? Ha, ha, ha ! THE MAD SHEPHERDESS 119 MAD SHEPHERDESS Terrible Are common things, dreadful and strange Beyond all else are Man and Woman, Death and Birth and Time and Change And that which is unchanged. HETEROS So when at last the Great Inventor Marvellous Man had consummated, Man, the ingenious toy, He found, after all, He had ill created. " Nothing I give may Man enjoy," He said, and was vexed. " With Pain at the root, Life the blossom, and Death the fruit, This work of mine is flawed at the centre. I made it and will destroy." " Why r" asked the Spirit who contemplates. " Because on his perilous Good there waits 120 THE MAD SHEPHERDESS And Man must perceive it the shadow, 111 r I know a remedy. Grant him still Another gift after many given The body its Earth and the mind her Heaven. Give him a power which is mighty above Courage and Wisdom, Beauty and Love, A gift from the gods for ever hid, A charm to baffle the hounding Fates, Yea, from himself to set him free : Give him, O Maker, Stupidity ! " This the Maker did. And Man complete went forth to climb Bravely the giddy stair of Time. MAD SHEPHERDESS I am the Mad Shepherdess, quite mad, Since I behold that which is here And should not be seen. No matter ! Heteros, Heteros is my dear, THE MAD SHEPHERDESS 121 And together we dance on the white and the green. ( They dance and sing) Hey nonny nonny no ! There's a music in my head Will keep my feet a-dancing Long after you are dead. Ha, ha, ha ! Hey nonny nonny no ! Who would go repining While the stars are shining And the fiddle has its bow ? (Jessamine, a young girl r , climbs up from the ravine and stands among the bushes'] JESSAMINE Don't, Shepherdess ! Please, don't you frighten me. 122 THE MAD SHEPHERDESS MAD SHEPHERDESS Frighten you? Why, Jessamine, flower o' the stars ? JESSAMINE Dancing alone there. Do you dance alone ? I can see nothing, nothing with my eyes. MAD SHEPHERDESS Nay, for I dance alone. JESSAMINE Hush ! hush ! You do not. Something is here. O, it whirls giddily ! No, not near me ! Away, mad thing ! MAD SHEPHERDESS Young sweet Jessamine, Flower o' the stars, Why do you come to visit me ? I am dangerous. THE MAD SHEPHERDESS 123 JESSAMINE No, Shepherdess. The untaught villagers Believe so. I am sorry for you, Shepherdess. MAD SHEPHERDESS (singing and dancing] Come along, stupids, don't be afraid, Numskull man and clumping maid ! I can change your awkward prances Into fleet and foamy dances. Tou whose precious world encloses Hardly whafs beneath your noses, Come ! I'll give you sudden seeing, Till you laugh with joy of being. (Ceases to dance) But you, Jessamine, have seen too much already. i2 4 THE MAD SHEPHERDESS JESSAMINE I, Shepherdess ? I have seen nothing, Except the convent schoolroom and my home there, In the broad fields of the valley. O, to see ! To wander air-borne, invisible, About the world ! To pass as the wind passes over great cities And watch how under The packed street flows full of the pride of Life! To know how, streaming, storming, the passion of Life Breaks and beats, encountering wave with wave, Round a million roofs, magnificent, like the sea ! THE MAD SHEPHERDESS 125 MAD SHEPHERDESS Are you so ordinary As to imagine the World merely the City ? The World is everywhere, 'tis every one ; We two and the watching mountains are the World As much, ay more, than twenty men in the street Passing a borrowed phrase from mouth to mouth, Like the tooth of the three Grey Women. HETEROS (invisible) Where is the use of travelling ? You want to see ? Just buy my magic glass. My magic mirror's imagings Show you the other side of things. Though all the various earth you see, Her scenes without my glass and me Are flat as drawing on a slate ; 126 THE MAD SHEPHERDESS But with it, from the garden gate I'll show you more than many a man Can see 'twixt Rome and Yucatan. JESSAMINE What did you say, Shepherdess r MAD SHEPHERDESS I ? O, nothing, For I am mad ; you, maiden, were as mad To ask of me a counsel. Go home, Jessamine. Already in the gully, Hollow and chill and hoarse the torrent roars. Why did you visit me, Flower o' the stars ? JESSAMINE Do you not know the stories That else were unremembered ? Know the songs, The old plain tunes with hidden harmonies THE MAD SHEPHERDESS 127 Enriched of many souls That have loved, laughed, sighed through them Hundreds of years ? MAD SHEPHERDESS A song I know for you, a new song Of an old tale never told. (Sings) Go not a/one, alone among the mountains If thou dost love the stars , For it might be alone among the mountains A star 'would love thee too. Swift star out of heaven riding , Bridle of silver ', mane of fire ^ Star out of heaven riding. Why dost thou rush to earth ? 128 THE MAD SHEPHERDESS And the star answers : A lonely maiden waits me yonder ; Young as a flower at morn, Tet have I loved her for a thousand years, And all too long she waits me yonder. Suddenly, as the flowers come after snow, She came, and she will go. Therefore from heaven riding, See how I rush to earth ! And so the star was never seen again. THE GONDOLA OF LONDON GIVE to me, Love, our London town, Now, when the hovering night comes down. What if away there still be day ? Naked sky over silver reaches, Bronze of bracken and gold of beeches ? Give me the woven shadows brown, Shot with the lights of London town. Ours is a gondola as dim, Secret, and bold as ere could swim, Shunning a moon that smiled too soon Black the boat over black abysses Harbouring rapture, curtaining kisses, Lovers that laughed at Fortune's frown, There as we do in London town. 129 K 130 THE GONDOLA OF LONDON Tune of the jingling bells and fleet Tap of the hoofs in an empty street Then as a ship from port will slip Out we glide to the storm's commotion, Roar of a swift tumultuous ocean, Surge of faces that glimmer and drown, Foam on the sea of London town. Little of stars our London recks, Night with her fiery garland decks, Light upon light as pearls strung white Fast through shadows and moony blazes Topaz and ruby whirl in mazes, Flash in the sinister veil, the crown Royal and fierce of London town. Ever the hurrying faces pass, Phantom-dim through a rain-blurred glass. Which of the swarm will heed if warm THE GONDOLA OF LONDON 131 Here a venturous arm enwind you ? Here if lips should seek and find you, Mouth and cheek of you, hair and gown ? Give me my Love in London town ! NOCTURNE A DESOLATE heath Over the sea Is the place for me, When night is near, When a wind upleaps Seaward and sweeps The horizon clear. Widening beneath Darkens the heath. Sullen and far Hark how they roar, Waves of the shore, Trees of the wood. 132 NOCTURNE 133 Heaven in her cloud, Earth in her shroud, Sullenly brood. Smiles a white star Silent and far. Under the height Yonder a glare Reddens the air, Where in the bay Rigging and spars Glow with their stars, City and quay Glitter to-night Under the height. O but for me Purple of pine In a sandy chine, When the night-wind's breath 134 NOCTURNE Will bare us soon The wan young moon. A desolate heath Over the sea Is the place for me. THE BALLAD OF KING HJORWARD'S DEATH THE Norns decreed in their high home, " HjOrward the King must die to-day.' 1 A mighty man, but old and grey With housing long on the grey foam, And driving on their perilous way His hungry dragon-herd to seek Their fiery pasture, and to wreak On southern shrines with flame and sword The wrath of Asgard's dreadful lord. Seven days King HjOrward then had kept His place in silence on his throne, Seven nights had left him there alone, Watching while all the palace slept, 135 136 KING HJORWARD'S DEATH Wan in the dawn and still as stone. But when they said, " The King must die," A shout such as in days gone by Shook the good ship when swords were swung, Broke from his heart and forth he sprung. " Sword, sword and shield ! " he cried, " and thou Haste, let the winged ship fly free. Yonder there shivers the pale sea, Impatient for the plunging prow, I hear the shrill wind call to me Hark, how it hastens from the east ! ' Why tarriest thou ? ' it cries, ' the feast To-night in Odin's hall is spread, They wait thee there, the armed dead.' " They wait me there ! Ho, sword and shield ! What hero-faces throng the gate ! Not long nor vainly shall ye wait. KING HJORWARD'S DEATH 137 I too have not been weak to wield The heavy brand, I too am great, Hjorward am I. No funeral car Slow rolling, but a ship of war Swift on the wind and racing wave, Bears me to feast among the brave. " Slaves, women, shall not sail with me, Nor broidered stuffs, nor hoarded gold, But men, my liegemen from of old, Strong men to ride the unbroken sea, And arms such as befit the bold. Come forth, my steed, thou fierce and fleet, Once more thy flying hoofs shall beat The level way along the strand, The hard bright sea-forsaken sand." So the horse Halfi came, and rose The hounds that wont to hunt with him, Shaggy of hide and lithe of limb. 138 KING HJORWARD'S DEATH And we too followed where repose The dragon-ships in order grim, Hastening together to let slip Svior, the dark shield-girdled ship, That like a live thing from the steep Fled eagerly into the deep. Fly fast to-day, proud ship, fly fast, Scatter the surge and drink the spray ; Hjorward is at thy helm to-day For the last time, and for the last Last time thou treadst the windy way. The oarsmen to the chiming oar Chant their hoarse song, and on the shore The folk are silent watching thee Speeding across the wide cold sea. The wind that rose with day's decline Rent the dim curtain of the west ; KING HJORWARD'S DEATH 139 Clear o'er the water's furthest crest We saw a sudden splendour shine, A flying flame that smote the breast And high head of the mailed King, His hoary beard and glittering Great brand in famous fights renowned, And those grim chiefs that girt him round. " The gate," he muttered, " lo ! the gate ! " Staring upon the sky's far gold. Yea, the wild clouds about it rolled Showed like the throned and awful state Of gods whose feet the waves enfold, Whose brows the voyaging tempests smite, Who wait, assembled at the bright Valhalla doors, the sail that brings This last and mightiest of kings. 140 KING HJORWARD'S DEATH As swift before the wind we drave, We surely heard from far within Their shining battlements the din Of that proud sword-play of the brave ; And Hjorward cried, " The games begin, The clang of shield on shield I hear. Wait, sons of Odin, wait your peer ! " Then as that sudden splendour fled, With one great shout the King fell dead. Lo as some falcon struck in flight Reels from her course, and dizzily Beats with loose pinions down the sky, So Svior reeled 'twixt height and height Of mounting waves, and heavily Plunged in the black trough of the sea ; And o'er her helmless, full of glee, The roaring waters leapt and fell, Sweeping swift souls of men to Hell. KING HJORWARD'S DEATH 141 We seized the helm and lowered the mast, And shorewards steered thro' night and wind ; We seemed like loiterers left behind By some bright pageant that had passed Within and left to us the blind Shut gates and twilight ways forlorn. And coldly rose the strange new morn, Ere to the watchers on the shore We cried, " The King returns no more." Return, ah ! once again return ! Cross the frail bridge at close of day, And pale along the crimson way Of sunset when the first stars burn, Ride forth, thou king-born look and say If on the wide earth stretched beneath Thou seest any house of death, High sepulchre where monarchs be, Like thine up-built beside the sea. 142 KING HJORWARD'S DEATH Far have I journed from the moan Of northern waters, wandering By tombs of many a famous king, Where swathed in shrouds and sealed in stone They slumber, and the tapers fling A dimness o'er them, and the drone Of praying priests they hear alone ; Shut out from earth and bounteous sky, And all the royal life gone by. But HjOrward, clothed in shining mail, Holds kingly state even where he died, At Svior's helm. On either side The hoary chiefs who loved to sail In youth with him sit full of pride, Leaned on their arms and painted shields Dim from a thousand battle-fields, Looking upon the King, and he Turns his helmed brows towards the sea. KING HJOR WARD'S DEATH 143 Across his knees his naked brand Is laid, and underneath his feet The Goth horse Halfi, and the fleet Great hounds he loved beneath his hand, And when the storms arise there beat Salt surges up against his grave. He surely sometimes feels the brave Ship Svior quiver in her sleep, Dreaming she treads the windy deep. There overhead year after year The moorland turf and thyme shall grow, Above the horizon faint and low The same wild mountain summits peer ; The same grey gleamy sea shall sow With foam the level leagues of sand, And peace be with that warrior band, Till dim below the bright abodes Gather the twilight of the gods. THE BALLAD OF THE MOTHER From " Wild Justice " IN the dead of the night the children were weeping. The mother heard that where she lay sleeping, And scratched at the coffin lid. The shrill of the lark, the scream of the owl, The dogs that bark and the storms that howl She never had heard them where she lay hid, But she heard her poor little children weeping. In the lone of the night the sexton lay dreaming. He turned him about : " Who is sighing and screaming ? 144 BALLAD OF THE MOTHER 145 " O help me out, sexton, for pity, pity's sake ! " " Hush ! hush ! hush ! The dead must sleep sound and never wake." A shimmer of wings went over the sky, A murmur of strings : " O pass me not by ! " The poor mother wants to get out " O come, help me soon ! " But the angels harp on 'twixt the earth and the moon. In the dark underground the mother lay weeping ; Through the deep underground a devil was creeping. "Hush! hush! hush! What are you crying about ? Your gravestone is carven with cherubim faces, Your pall is enwoven with silver laces." 146 BALLAD OF THE MOTHER " O help me, dear angel, for pity, pity's sake, My children have wept till their hearts are like to break." " The angels are fled, and the sexton is sleeping, And I am a devil, a devil from Hell." " Then help me out, devil, O help me, good devil ! " " A price must be paid to a spirit of evil. Will you pay me the price ? " said the spirit from Hell. " The price shall be paid, the bargain is made." She has sworn him an oath, the coffin is broken, The poor mother runs up the stair. " You have sworn me an oath, but where are the pledges ? " BALLAD OF THE MOTHER 147 " My hood of white satin with Valenciennes edges, The ring from my finger, the rose from my hair." " No, no, no, But a tress of your beautiful hair." " My penknife of pearl for a last love-token I gave my sweet William ; then how can I shear it ? " " No need," said the devil ; "no need. I can tear it." In the dead of the night, the moon shining brightly, From her tomb by the church the mother rose whitely. By the bridge o'er the stream, up the path through the meadow, 148 BALLAD OF THE MOTHER Like a bird, like a gleam, through the wind, through the shadow, She ran, while the devil looked out from her tomb. He smiles 'twixt the cherubim faces and wings, And winds her long hair round his finger for rings. Boom ! boom ! boom ! From the tower in the silence there sounds the great bell. " I am waiting the price," said the devil from Hell. THE BALLAD OF THE MAIDEN AND THE WATER-SPIRIT From " The Princess of Hanover" Hushed are the houses , the lamps are all sleeping, But the moon, the white moon is awake. At eve the spinners tell beside the doorway Of evil spirits and their accursed love. Fiercer than hate. Close well the curtains, For the moon and what beside ? is awake. Dark and warm the narrow room, But the gold and silver broom On the perfumed hills was blowing When the maiden went there all alone. 149 1 5 o BALLAD OF THE MAIDEN Forth she went with swinging hair, While the moon in Heaven's bare Rode, the vacant pathway showing. By the shore the maiden walked alone. Nothing moved but on the sand Shadows like a dial hand, Slender shade of feathered sedges, Broad rock-shadows veering under the moon. Ere the shadows had moved a span, Waking or sleeping she saw a man On the bare and bright sea-edges, A man of elfland under the moon. Yet the maiden had no fear ; Her seemed she had loved him a long year, Oft had seen him pale for her kisses, Often looked on him silent for love. AND THE WATER-SPIRIT 151 In an hour they knew must end, All of their hearts they two did spend, All their store of mortal blisses ; Spent in an hour the long wonder of love. When the primrose morning crept Low along the sky, she slept ; Still in the dark of heaven above her, Small as a jewel, hung the glittering moon. Hushed and wan the morning broke, Wonderingly the girl awoke, Saw no more the elfin lover Nor gentle shadows following the white moon In the unsubstantial day. Far off the floating hills were grey, She looked across the airy water And idly through her fingers poured the sand. 152 BALLAD OF THE MAIDEN Suddenly her heart began To beat, for she saw the steps of a man. Trembling from the ground she caught her And followed them along the lonely sand. They ended where a great stone Like a ruined tower stood alone. At the blind gate she marked more clearly The track, for in every step was blood. She beat at the stone on every side, " Let me come to my love ! " she cried, " Let me in, for I love him dearly," And " Who is this that hath shed his heart's blood ? " At length, deep in the rock, one said, Fiercely shrieking, " My love is dead. Thou hast killed him, accursed mortal." Laughing, "Yet hath he avenged him. Go thy way." AND THE WATER-SPIRIT 153 Fishermen with chants begun To haul their net in the sparkling sun ; Turning from the closed portal, Silent she stared on them and went her way. At every step she seemed to feel Cutting her heart a knife of steel. Treading slow, as heavy laden, Home she came and beat at her father's door. She turned and saw down the dusty street Blood in the tracks of her own feet. Never knew the dead maiden Whether any opened her father's door. At eve the spinners tell beside the doorway Of evil spirits and their accursed love. THE BALLAD OF THE WIZARD SOMEWHERE, nobody knows, Yet I think it must be In the buried country under the sea, The sunken town where nobody goes Save the men who are drowned Their bones are drifting about the street And knock at the doors with a rustling sound There must he dwell, The Wizard who grudges men their bliss. His house is Hell, And he sits there staring into the street. 154 BALLAD OF THE WIZARD I55 Red and white and black and grey Familiars drift like moths his way Eddying float on filmy wings, Or cling to the walls of the Wizard's cell. They swarm and rise, transparent things, As, whispering one by one, they tell How men above do that and this. Of earth's good joy when the Wizard hears, The shining towers and fields of corn, He is silent, staring into the street ; And when they tell of the children born, The merry souls, and how life is sweet, He would weep for rage, but he has no tears. The Wizard speaks : " Spirits, black and red and grey " Under the sea his voice is dim " Have you seen a traveller bound this way ? The bones are tired in the streets of the town." 156 BALLAD OF THE WIZARD Whisperingly they answer him : " Yea, master, yea ; A ruddy man, that hath much gold." "What doth he do?" " By the fire he sits, Merrily warming his five wits." " Cold, cold, a-cold Shall they be when he cometh down. Fal la ! la la la ! " The Wizard speaks again : " White brothers and grey, Must the merry man be alone in the town ? " " Nay, master, nay ; Young is the maiden who journeyeth down." " What now doth she do ? " " For her hair she is weaving a bridal crown, For her wear she is choosing a bridal gown, Counting the hours to her wedding-day." BALLAD OF THE WIZARD 157 " Let them be few ! The sea-foam shall wreathe her hair, Seaweed her body shall wear ; I will make her wedding-bed, Here, with the bones of the long dead. Fal la ! la la la ! " The Wizard s-peaks yet again : " Red Mallikin, say, Must I have only two ? The bones are white in the streets of the town." " Nay, master, nay ; Over the sea there sail threescore." " What now do they do ? " " The ship slides on in a dazzle of blue, The sailors are yarning the mast before ; On the white deck the children play, And passengers there walk up and down, Or singing and dancing pass the day." 158 BALLAD OF THE WIZARD " Merry be the company ! Little know they How the mad waves shall their partners be ! I shall watch them dance to the sunken town. Fa la ! la la la ! " Somewhere, nobody knows, In the sunken town where nobody goes Save the men who are drowned, The Wizard sits and his sides he shakes, Alone to himself good blood he makes : And the bones drift by with a rustling sound. THE BALLAD OF THE SEA-BORN MAN I HAVE wandered too far from the foam on the shore, from the sand and the grey-blowing grass Since I came from the dim of the deep ocean land through the clear-shining coun- try to pass. I whistled and sang because never before A Sea Man had come from the sea, And I laughed to the children who played at the door, Till the children came laughing at me. " O see the Gaberlunzie man ! The silly, crazy outland man ! " And after me, all after me the village people ran. 159 160 THE SEA-BORN MAN Of the soft woven weed was my mantle of grey, and a garland of pearls in my hair ; Through the beautiful city that shines to the sea methought like a prince I should fare. O the gay market-booths in the square on the hill ! O the banner that blows o'er the gate ! But the people were sure that I meant them some ill And whispered with faces of hate, "Come, catch and kill the stranger man, The ugly, evil outland man." And fast as foam along the sea, across the fields I ran. Through the waves of the meadow I followed the wind, and watched all alone in my mirth, THE SEA-BORN MAN 161 How the little warm creatures, the brown and the grey, did caper for joy of the earth. And the songs in the sky were a merry mad crowd, Running races of shrill and of sweet ; I thought they were spirits that sang in a cloud, Till a lark fluttered down at my feet. And O the liquid utterings, Dainty flights and flutterings Here and there of hedgerow birds with pretty painted wings. Where the forest is dim like the green water world and the gossamers float in the dew, I went till I heard how a multitude sang, and fain had I sung with them too. M 1 62 THE SEA-BORN MAN There was surging of sound from a palace of spires, A throng in its cavernous gate, It was pierced with rubies and walled with sapphires, And carven with kings in their state. " Oh fair," I said, " to see and hear ! What though they kill me, I'll come near, 'Twere shame on thee, thou sea-born man, a bitter shame to fear." So I strode from the forest, and shook my long hair, as I stood like a rock on the turf, And sang the great song that the sea-heroes sing when they clash in the roar of the surf. There was shadow behind me and silence before, THE SEA-BORN MAN 163 And then came a terrible cry, And far o'er the meadows and in at the door I saw the pale multitude fly. The mighty gates, with hollow sound, Shut after them, and round and round Their palace fair I walked and cried and never entrance found. At evening I heard the slow sigh of the wood, and thought it a voice that I knew. I said, " I will break through the rampart of green and suddenly burst on the blue." O the frank open spaces, the sea and the sky, Where the winds spread their wings and are free ! But the shadows grow darker, the twilight goes by, While I wander and look for the sea. 1 64 THE SEA-BORN MAN Among the thickets of the thorn I lay my body cold. and torn, And on the bough a sea-born wind doth rock itself and mourn. Thou wind that art talking alone in the wood the speech of the wave on the shore, Go tell to my love I am drowned in the wood and never shall come to her more. Go tell to my mother who watches alone, Ah, not how I wandered and died ! But say that afar on a porphyry throne I sit with a queen at my side ; Go say to her who'll watch in vain, Though never may I come again, Yet happily, most happily, beyond the hills I reign. SONGS 165 I LIKE the wreath the poet sent To the lady of old time, Roses that were discontent With their brief unhonoured prime, Crown he hoped she might endow With the beauty of her brow ; Even so for you I blent, Send to you my wreath of rhyme. These alas ! be blooms less bright, Faded buds that never blew, Darkling thoughts that seek the light Let them find it finding you. 167 1 68 SONGS Bid these petals pale unfold On your heart their hearts of gold, Sweetness for your sole delight, Love for odour, tears for dew. II WHEN the world's asleep, I awake and weep, Deeply sighing say, " Come, O break of day, Lead my feet in my beloved's way.' When the morning breaks, When the world awakes, Then a dream too dear Haunts me like a fear, And as one in sleep I linger here. If some star of heaven Led him by at even, 169 i yo SONGS If some magic fate Brought him, should I wait, Or fly within and bid them close the gate ? Ill THE weary moon goes down into the West As one that fain would rest, And nothing now is waking in the skies Except the luminous eyes Of stars that watch thee where thou wanderest. Wilt thou not also rest ? Now all the earth lies hushed in shadowy sleep, City and plain and steep ; Only the river journeying from afar Towards the Northern star, Rolls through the slumbering world its waters deep, That whisper to thee, "Sleep." 171 172 SONGS And now is peace in that beloved breast, Peace, the long absent guest ; For fear is dead, and sorrow sleeps forgot, Love only slumbers not, Love wakes for thee that doubting tarriest. Wilt thou not also rest ? IV From " Wild Justice " SLEEP we must, but when to slumber ? Every hour's too fair to choose it, Morn of gold and eve of umber, Silver night ah ! who would lose it ? Honey's hid in every flow'r, Joy in every sweet, sweet hour. Sleep we shall, but first be weary, Dance with hours of morning gladness, Pillage noon nor chide the dreary Hours that weave delightful madness. Round the earth that's with us racing, Sun and moon and meteors chasing, Worn with journeys, white with dust, Then we'll sleep for sleep we must. 173 V The Child's Birthday WHEN berries redden on the thorn, O that's the time my love was born ! When leaves are scarlet in the vale, And all the feathered grasses pale, When humming wheels thrash out the corn, 'Twas then my pretty love was born. When hunters wind the merry horn By woodland ways and acres shorn ; In darkening days when nests are chill, In silent days when birds are still Except the lark, who sings for scorn Of wintry care my love was born ! 174 SONGS 175 O wailing month with tresses torn ! O happy month no more forlorn ! For thee, tho' earth lie mute below, In Heaven the trumpet winds shall blow, The rose of eve, the star of morn, Shall crown the month my love was born. VI The Serenade of the Fairy Lover WHETHER sleeping, whether waking, Fairest dreams be thine to-night, If my heart may have their making ! Unto thee, O young Delight, Speed my wings, with odours laden. Honey-sweet, gathered far, Out of the Eden of every star, Soft they charm thy dreaming eyelids, maiden. Eyes from earthy blindness breaking, Look on Heaven's joy to-night, Whether sleeping, whether waking ! Mortal phantoms lose their might ! 176 SONGS 177 Dust that weaves thy mortal prison, Wall of stone, gate of brass, Be as vapour, change and pass Shining round thee, O thou Light new risen ! Whether waking, whether sleeping, Joy shall hold thy heart to-night, If my heart may have its keeping. Hand in hand up Heaven's height Will we race and laugh in wonder ; Climb the moon's silver boat, Sail in it where we will and float Far among the golden islands yonder. Hounds of Time never shall find Track of us, baying along the wind, While we lovers lean and mock them under. N 178 SONGS Whether sleeping, whether waking, Fairest dreams be thine to-night, If my heart may have their making ! THE END Printed by R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, Edinburgh BY MARGARET L. WOODS. LYRICS AND BALLADS. Printed on Hand-made Paper. Small 8vo. 43. A VILLAGE TRAGEDY. Crown 8vo. 2s. UNIFORM EDITIONS OF THE POETS. Crown 8vo. Green Cloth. 73. 6d. each. EACH VOLUME CONTAINS A PORTRAIT. THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF WORDS- WORTH. With an Introduction by JOHN MORLEY. THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF SHELLEY. Edited by Prof. DOWDEN. THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF COLERIDGE. With an Introduction by J. DYKES CAMPBELL. THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF MATTHEW ARNOLD. 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University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. NON-RENTOME OCT23 rC'D LD-U 1992 u^/ en DEC 9 199 DUE 2 WKS I-KUM IM 1 1 wluEl VED I REC'D LD-URL JAN 08 1997 THE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF T/)S ANGELES IX SOUTHERN REGIONAL LJBflARY FAOUTY II INI II I III II I I II II A 000 561 661 o PR 60U5 W865p