ALFRED NOYPS OF THE UNIVERSITY O^ OF 4^P0R^ THE GOLDEN HYNDE AND OTHER POEMS THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NBWYORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO • DALLAS ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO MACMILLAN & CO., Limited LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA MELBOURNE THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. TORONTO THE GOLDEN HYNDE AND OTHER POEMS BY ALFEED NOTES THE FLOWEB OF OLD JAPAN," ETC. 'Ntta gotit THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 1914 All rights reserved CJOPTBIGHT, 1908, By the MACMILLAN COMPANY. Set up and electrotyped. Published February, 1908. Reprinted March, 1913; August, 1914. NortoooK 13rf8« J. 8. Cuflhing Co. — Berwick «fc Smith Co. Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. MY AMERICAN WIFE M572787 7^ CONTENTS PAGE The 'Golden Hynde' 1 At Dawn 5 A Seventieth Birthday 11 The Net of Vulcan 14 Orpheus and Eurydice 16 From the Shore 37 The Return 42 On a Railway Platform 44 An Old Song Ended 46 Love's Ghost 48 NiOBE 51 The Last of the Titans 54 The Ride of Phaethon 67 The Empire-builders 74 Nelson's Year — 1905 78 In Time of War 86 To England in 1907 103 In Cloak of Grey 107 A Ride for the Queen 109 Song — 'When that I loved a maiden* . .113 Eve's Apple 115 v VI CONTENTS PAOB Recollections of a Song 117 E Tenebris 119 Sonnet — ' Love, when the great hour knelled FOR thee and me * 122 The Real Dante 124 A Prayer . 126 Old Japan at Earl's Court .... 128 Oxford Revisited 131 Earth's Immortalities 136 The Testimony of Art 138 Song — 'Nymphs and naiads, come away' . 139 Remembrance 141 Unity 143 Joy and Pain 145 In the Cool of the Evening .... 147 The Cottage of the Kindly Light . . . 150 The Three Ships 165 Slumber-songs of the Madonna . . . 168 The Call of the Spring 179 The Lights of Home 183 Credo 184 THE GOLDEN HYNDE AND OTHER POEMS THE GOLDEN HYNDE I With the fruit of Aladdin's Garden clustering thick in her hold, With rubies a-wash in her scuppers and her bilge a-blaze with gold, A world in arms behind her to sever her heart from home. The Golden Hynde drove onward, over the glit- tering foam. II If we go, as we came, by the Southward, we meet wi' the fleets of Spain! 'Tis a thousand to one against us; we'll turn to the West again; We have captured a China pilot, his charts and his golden keys; 2 THE GOLDEN HTNBE We'll sail to the golden Gateway, over the golden seas. Ill What shall we see as we sail there? Clusters of coral and palm, Oceans of silken slumber, measureless leagues of calm. Islands of purple story, lit with the Westering gleam. Washed by the unknown whisper, dreaming the world-wide dream. " IV There will be shores of sirens, with arms that beckon us near. As they stand knee-deep in the foam-flowers, with perilous breasts and hair; Sweet is the rest they proffer; but what shall we gain of these THE GOLDEN HTNBE 3 When we gaze on the golden Gateway that shines on the golden seas? V Wound in their white embraces, couched in the lustrous gloom, Gazing ever to seaward thro' the broad mag- nolia bloom, We should weary of all their kisses when, under the first white star, Over the limitless ocean, the golden Gates unbar. VI White arms will strive to hold us; but we shall rise and go Down to the salt sea-beaches where the waves are whispering low: White arms will plead in anguish as the sails fill out to the breeze. And we turn to the golden Gateway that burns on the golden seas! 4 THE GOLDEN HYNDE VII We shall put out from shore then, out to the Western skies, , With the old despairing rapture and the sunset in our eyes! What shall we gain of our going, what of the fading gleam, What of the gathering darkness, what of the dying dream? VIII Only the unknown glory, only the hope deferred. Only the wondrous whisper, only the unknown Word, Voice of the God that gave us billow and beam and breeze. As we sail to the golden Gateway, over the golden seas. AT DAWN Hesper-Phosphor, far away, Shining, the first, the last white star, Hear'st thou the strange, the ghostly cry, That moan of an ancient agony From purple forest to golden sky Shivering over the breathless bay? It is not the wind that wakes with the day; For see, the gulls that wheel and call. Beyond the tumbling white-topped bar. Catching the sun-dawn on their wings, Like snow-flakes or like rose-leaves fall, Flutter and fall in airy rings; And drift, like liUes ruffling into blossom Upon some golden lake's unwrinkled bosom. Are not the forest's deep-lashed fringes wet With tears? Is not the voice of all regret 5 6 AT DAWN Breaking out of the dark earth's heart? She too, she too, has loved and lost ; and we — We that remember our lost Arcady, Have we not known, we too, The primal greenwood's arch of blue. The radiant clouds at sunrise curled Around the brows of the golden world; The marble temples, washed with dew, To which with rosy limbs aflame The violet-eyed Thalassian came. Came, pitiless, only to display How soon the youthful splendour dies away; Came only to depart Laughing across the grey-grown bitter sea; For each man's life is earth's epitome. And though the years bring more than aught they take, Yet might his heart and hers well break Remembering how one prayer must still be vain, AT DAWN T How one fair hope is dead, One passion quenched, one glory fled With those first loves that never come again. How many years, how many generations. Have heard that sigh in the dawn. When the dark earth yearns to the unforgotten nations And the old loves withdrawn, Old loves, old lovers, wonderful and unnumbered As waves on the wine-dark sea. 'Neath the tall white towers of Troy and the temples that slumbered In Thessaly? From the beautiful palaces, from the miracu- lous portals, The swift white feet are flown! They were taintless of dust, the proud, the peerless Immortals 8 AT DAWN As they sped to their loftier throne! Perchance they are there, earth dreams, on the shores of Hesper, Her rosy-bosomed Hours, Listening the wild fresh forest's enchanted whisper, Crowned with its new strange flowers; Listening the great new ocean's triumphant thunder On the stainless unknown shore. While that perilous queen of the world's delight and wonder Comes white from the foam once more. When the mists divide with the dawn o'er those glittering waters, Do they gaze over unoared seas — Naiad and nymph and the woodland's rose- crowned daughters \ AT DAWN 9 And the Oceanides? Do they sing together, perchance, in that dia- mond splendour, That world of dawn and dew. With eyelids twitching to tears and with eyes grown tender The sweet old songs they knew. The songs of Greece? Ah, with harp-strings mute do they falter As the earth like a small star pales? When the heroes launch their ship by the smok- ing altar Does a memory lure their sails? Far, far away, do their hearts resume the story That never on earth was told. When all those urgent oars on the waste of glory Cast up its gold? Are not the forest fringes wet With tears? Is not the voice of all regret 10 AT DAWN Breaking out of the dark earth's heart? She too, she too, has loved and lost ; and though She turned last night in disdain Away from the sunset-embers, From her soul she can never depart; She can never depart from her pain. Vainly she strives to forget; Beautiful in her woe, She awakes in the dawn and remembers. A SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY (in honour of ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE) (B, April 5, 1837) I He needs no crown of ours, whose golden heart Poured out its wealth so freely in pure praise Of others: him the imperishable bays Crown, and on Sunium's height he sits apart: He hears immortal greetings this great morn, Fain would we bring, we also, all we may, Some wayside flower of transitory bloom, Frail tribute only born To greet the gladness of this April day — Then waste on Death's dark wind its faint perfume. II Here, on this April day, the whole sweet Spring Speaks thro' his music only, or seems to speak ; 11 12 A SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY And we that hear, with hearts upUft and weak, What can we more than claim him for our king ? Here, on this April day (and many a time Shall Spring return and find him singing still) He is one with the world's great heart beyond the years, . One with the pulsing rhyme Of tides that work some heavenly rhythmic will And hold the secret of all human tears. ni For he, the last of that immortal race Whose music like a robe of living light Re-clothed each new-born age and made it bright As with the glory of Love's transfiguring face. Reddened earth's roses, kindled the deep blue Of England's radiant ever-singing sea, A SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY 13 Recalled the white Thalassian from the foam Woke the dim stars anew And triumphed in the triumph of Liberty, We claim him; but he hath not here his home. IV Not here ! Round him to-day the clouds divide. We know what faces thro' that rose-flushed air Now bend above him — Shelley's face is there, And Hugo's lit with more than kingly pride; Replenished there with splendour the blind eyes Of Milton bend from heaven to meet his own ; Sappho is there crowned with those queen- lier flowers Whose graft outgrew our skies, His gift: Shakespeare leans earthward from his throne With hands outstretched. He needs no crown of ours. THE NET OF VULCAN I From peaks that clove the heavens asunder The hunch-back god with sooty claws Loomed o'er the night, a cloud of thunder, And hurled the net of mortal laws; It flew, and all the world grew dimmer; Its blackness blotted out the stars. Then fell across the rosy glimmer That told where Venus couched with Mars. 11 And, when the steeds that draw the morning Spurned from their Orient hooves the spray. All vainly soared the lavrock, warning Those tangled lovers of the day: Still with those twin white waves in blossom 14 TBE NET OF VULCAN 15 Against the warrior's rock-broad breast, The netted Hght of the foam-born bosom Breathed like a sea at rest. Ill And light was all that followed after, Light the derision of the sky, Light the divine Olympian laughter Of kindlier gods in days gone by: Low to her lover whispered Venus, 'The shameless net be praised for this — When night herself no more could screen us It snared us one more hour of bliss.' ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE I Cloud upon cloud, the purple pinewoods clung to the rich Arcadian mountains, Holy-sweet as a column of incense, where Eurydice roamed and sung : All the hues of the gates of heaven flashed from The white enchanted fountains Where in the flowery glades of the forest the rivers that sing to Arcadia sprung. White as a shining marble Dryad, supple and sweet as a rose in blossom. Fair and fleet as a fawn that shakes the dew from the fern at break of day. Wreathed with the clouds of her dusky hair that V kissed and clung to her sun-bright bosom, 16 OEPHEUS AND EUBTDICE 17 Down to the valley she came, and the sound of her feet was the bursting of flowers in May. Down to the valley she came, for far and far be- low in the dreaming meadows Pleaded ever the Voice of voices, calling his love by her golden name; , So she arose from her home in the hills, and down through the blossoms that danced with their shadows, Out of the blue of the dreaming distance, down to the heart of her lover she came. Red were the lips that hovered above her lips in the flowery haze of the June-day, Red as a rose through the perfumed mist of passion that reeled before her eyes; Strong the smooth young sunburnt arms that c 18 0BPHEU8 AND EUBTDICE folded her heart to his heart in the noon- day, Strong and supple with throbbing sunshine under the blinding southern skies. Ah, the kisses, the little murmurs, mad with pain for their phantom fleetness, Mad with pain for the passing of love that lives, they dreamed — as we dream — for an hour! Ah, the sudden tempest of passion, mad with pain for its oversweetness. As petal by petal and pang by pang their love broke out into perfect flower. Ah, the wonder as once he wakened, out of a dream of remembered blisses. Couched in the meadows of dreaming blossom to feel, like the touch of a flower on his eyes, OBPHEUS AND EUBTDICE 19 Cool and fresh with the fragrant dews of dawn the touch of her hght swift kisses, Shed from the shadowy rose of her face be- tween his face and the warm blue skies. II Lost in his new desire He dreamed away the hours; His lyre Lay buried in the flowers : To whom the King of Heaven, Apollo, lord of light Had given Such beauty, love, and might: Might, if he would, to slay All evil dreams and pierce The grey Veil of the Universe; 20 ORPHEUS AND EUBYDICE With love that holds in one Sacred and ancient bond The sun And all the vast beyond; And beauty to enthrall The soul of man to heaven: Yea, all Such gifts was Orpheus given. Yet in his dream's desire He drowsed away the hours : His lyre Lay buried in the flowers. Then in his wrath arose Apollo, lord of light, That shows The wrong deed from the right; ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 21 And by what radiant laws Overruling human needs The cause To consequence proceeds; How balanced is the sway He gives each mortal doom; How day Demands the atoning gloom : How all good things await The soul that pays the price To fate By equal sacrifice; And how on him that sleeps For less than labour's sake There creeps, Uncharmed, the Pythian snake. 22 OBPHEUS AND EURTBICB III Lulled by the wash of the feathery grasses, a sea with many a sun-swept billow, Heart to heart in the heart of the summer, lover by lover asleep they lay. Hearing only the whirring cicala that chirruped awhile at their poppied pillow Faint and sweet as the murmur of men that laboured in villages far away. Was not the menace indeed more silent? Ah, what care for labour and sorrow ? Gods in the meadows of moly and amaranth surely might envy their deep sweet bed Here where the butterflies troubled the lilies of peace, and took no thought for the mor- row. And golden-girdled bees made feast as over the lotos the soft sun spread. ORPHEUS AND EUBTDICE 23 Nearer, nearer the menace glided, out of the gorgeous gloom around them, Out of the poppy-haunted shadows deep in the heart of the purple brake; Till through the hush and the heat as they lay, and their own sweet listless dreams en- wound them, — Mailed and mottled with hues of the grape- bloom suddenly, quietly, glided the snake. Subtle as jealousy, supple as falsehood, diamond- headed and cruel as pleasure. Coil by coil he lengthened and glided, straight to the fragrant curve of her throat : There in the print of the last of the kisses that still glowed red from the sweet long pres- sure. Fierce as famine and swift as lightning over the glittering lyre he smote. 24 ORPHEUS AND EURTDICE IV And over the cold white body of love and delight Orpheus arose in the terrible storm of his grief, With quivering up-clutched hands, deadly and white, And his whole soul wavered and shook like a wind-swept leaf: As a leaf that beats on a mountain, his spirit in vain Assaulted his doom and beat on the Gates of Death : Then prone with his arms o'er the lyre he sobbed out his pain. And the tense chords faintly gave voice to the pulse of his breath. And he heard it and rose, once again, with the lyre in his hand, OBPHEUS AND EUBTDICE 25 And smote out the cry that his white-Hpped sorrow denied: And the grief's mad ecstasy swept o'er the sum- mer-sweet land, And gathered the tears of all Time in the rush of its tide. There was never a love forsaken or faith for- sworn, There was never a cry for the living or moan for the slain, But was voiced in that great consummation of song; ay, and borne To storm on the Gates of the land whence none Cometh again. Transcending the barriers of earth, comprehend- ing them all. He followed the soul of his loss with the night in his eyes; 26 ORPHEUS AND EUBYDICE And the portals lay bare to him there; and he heard the faint call Of his love o'er the rabble that wails by the river of sighs. Yea, there in the mountains before him he knew it of old, That portal enormous of gloom, he had seen it in dreams, When the secrets of Time and of Fate through his harmonies rolled ; And behind it he heard the dead moan by their desolate streams. And he passed through the Gates with the light and the cloud of his song. Dry-shod over Lethe he passed to the chasms of Hell; And the hosts of the dead made mock at him, crying, how long ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 27 Have we dwelt in the darkness, oh fool, and shall evermore dwell? Did our lovers not love us? the grey skulls hissed in his face; Were our lips not red ? Were these cavernous eyes not bright ? Yet us, whom the soft flesh clothed with such roseate grace, Our lovers would loathe if we ever returned to their sight ! Oh then, through the soul of the Singer, a pity so vast Mixed with his anguish that, smiting anew on his lyre, He caught up the sorrows of hell in his utterance at last. Comprehending the need of them all in his own great desire. 28 OBPHEUS AND EURYDICE V And they that were dead, in his radiant music, heard the moaning of doves in the olden Golden-girdled purple pinewood, heard the moan of the roaming sea ; Heard the chant of the soft-winged songsters, nesting now in the fragrant golden Olden haunted blossoming bowers of lovers that wandered in Arcady; < Saw the soft blue veils of shadow floating over the billowy grasses Under the crisp white curling clouds that sailed and trailed through the melting blue ; Heard once more the quarrel of lovers above them pass, as a lark-song passes. Light and bright, till it vanished away in an eyebright heaven of silvery dew. ORPHEUS AND EUBTDICE 29 White as a dream of Aphrodite, supple and sweet as a rose in blossom, Fair and fleet as a fawn that shakes the dew from the fern at break of day; Wreathed with the clouds of her dusky hair, that kissed and clung to her sun-bright bosom, On through the deserts of hell she came, and the brown air bloomed with the light of May. On through the deserts of hell she came; for over the fierce and frozen meadows Pleaded ever the Voice of voices, calling his love by her golden name ; So she arose from her grave in the darkness, and up through the wailing fires and shadows. On by chasm and cliff and cavern, out of the horrors of death she came. 30 OBPHEUS AND EURYBICE j Then had she followed him, then had he won her, striking a chord that should echo for ever, Had he been steadfast only a Httle, nor paused in the great transcendent song; But ere they had won to the glory of day, he came to the brink of the flaming river And ceased, to look on his love a moment, a little moment, and over long. O'er Phlegethon he stood: Below him roared and flamed The flood For utmost anguish named. And lo, across the night, The shining form he knew With light Swift footsteps upward drew. ORPHEUS AND EURTDfCE 31 Up through the desolate lands She stole, a ghostly star, With hands Outstretched to him afar. With arms outstretched, she came In yearning majesty. The same Royal Eurydice. Up through the ghastly dead She came, with shining eyes And red Sweet lips of child-surprise. Up through the wizened crowds She stole, as steals the moon Through clouds Of flowery mist in June. He gazed : he ceased to smite The golden-chorded lyre : 32 OBPHEUS AND EURTJDICE Delight Consumed his heart with fire. Though in that deadly land His task was but half-done, His hand Drooped, and the fight half won. He saw the breasts that glowed, The fragrant clouds of hair ; They flowed Around him like a snare. O^er Phlegethon he stood, For utmost anguish named : The flood Below him roared and flximed Out of his hand the lyre Suddenly slipped and fell: The fire Acclaimed it into hell. ORPHEUS AND EUBTDICE 33 The night grew dark again : There came a bitter cry Of pain, Oh, Love, once more I die ! And lo, the earth-dawn broke, And Hke a wraith she fled: He woke Alone: his love was dead. He woke on earth : the day Shone coldly : at his side There lay The body of his bride. VII Only now when the purple vintage bubbles and winks in the autumn glory. Only now when the great white oxen drag the weight of the harvest home, D 84 ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE Sunburnt labourers, under the star of the sun- set, sing as an old-world story- How two pale and thwarted lovers ever through Arcady still must roam. Faint as the silvery mists of morning over the peaks that the noonday parches, On through the haunts of the gloaming musk- rose, down to the rivers that glisten be- low, Ever they wander from meadow to pinewood, under the whispering woodbine arches. Faint as the mist of the dews of the dusk when violets dream and the moon-winds blow. Though the golden lute of Orpheus gathered the splendours of earth and heaven, All the golden greenwood notes and all the chimes of the changing sea, ORPHEUS AND EUETBICE 35 Old men over the fires of winter murmur again that he was not given The steadfast heart divine to rule that infinite freedom of harmony. Therefore he failed, say they; but we, that have no wisdom, can only remember How through the purple perfumed pinewoods white Eurydice roamed and sung: How through the whispering gold of the wheat, where the poppy burned like a crimson ember, Down to the valley in beauty she came, and under her coming the flowers up-sprung. Down to the valley she came, for far and far below in the dreaming meadows Pleaded ever the Voice of voices, calUng his love by her golden name; 36 OBPHEUS AND EURTDICE So she arose from her home in the hills, and down through the blossoms that danced with their shadows Out of the blue of the dreaming distance, down to the heart of her lover she came. FROM THE SHORE I Love, so strangely lost and found, Love, beyond these Gates of Death, Love, immortally re-crowned, Love, who swayest this mortal breath, Sweetlier to thy lover's ear Steals the tale that ne'er was told: Bright-eyes, ah, thine arms are near, Nearer now than e'er of old. n When on earth thy hands were mine. Mine to hold for evermore. Oft we watched the sunset shine Lonelier from this wave-beat shore; Pent in prison-cells of clay 37 38 FROM THE SHORE Time had power on thee and me, Thou and heaven are one to-day One with earth and sky and sea. Ill Indivisible and one Beauty hath unlocked the gate, Oped the portals of the sun, Burst the bars of Time and Fate: Violets in the dawn of Spring Hold the secret of thine eyes; Lilies bare their breasts and fling Scents of thee from Paradise. IV Brooklets have thy talk by rote, Thy farewells array the West; Fur that clasped thee round the throat Leaps — a squirrel — to its nest : Backward from a sparkling eye. FROM THE SHORE 39 Half-forgotten jests return Where the rabbit lollops by- Hurry-scurry through the fern. V ■Roses where I lonely pass, Brush my brow and breathe thy kiss; Zephyrs whispering through the grass Lure me on from bliss to bliss; Here thy robe is rustling close, There thy fluttering lace is blown; All the tide of beauty flows Tributary to thine own. VI Birds that sleek their shining throats Capture every curve from thee, All their golden warbled notes — Fragments of thy melody — Crowding, clustering, one by one. 40 FROM THE SHORE Build it upward, spray by spray, Till the lavrock in the sun Pours thy rapture down the day. VII Silver birch and purple pine, Crumpled fern and crimson rose Flash to feel their beauty thine, Clasp and fold thee, warm and close; Every beat and gleam of wings Holds thee in its bosom furled, All that chatters, laughs and sings Darts thy sparkle round the world. VIII LovBy so strangely lost and found, Love, beyond these Gates of Death, Love, immortally re-crowned, Love, who swayest this mortal breath, FBOM THE SHOBE 41 Sweetlier to thy lover's ear Steals the tale that ne'er was told : Bright-eyes, ah, thine arms are near, Nearer now than e'er of old. THE RETURN I O HEDGES white with laughing may, O meadows where we met, This heart of mine must break to-day Unless ye, too, forget. II Breathe not so sweet, breathe not so sweet, But swiftly let me pass Across the fields that felt her feet In the old time that was! Ill A year ago, but one brief year, happy flowering land, We wandered here and whispered there And hand was warm in hand. 42 THE BETUBN 43 IV crisp white clouds beyond the hill, lavrock in the skies, Why do ye all remember still Her bright uplifted eyes? V Red heather on the windy moor, Wild thyme beside the way, White jasmine by the cottage door, Harden your hearts to-day. VI Smile not so kind, smile not so kind, Thou happy, haunted place. Or thou wilt strike these poor eyes blind With her remembered face. ON A RAILWAY PLATFORM A DRIZZLE of drifting rain And a blurred white lamp o'er head, That shines as my love will shine again, In the world of the dead. Round me the wet black night. And, afar in the Hmitless gloom. Crimson and green, two blossoms of light, Two stars of doom. But the night of death is a-flare With a torch of back-blown fire And the coal-black deeps of the quivering air Rend for my soul's desire. Leap, heart, for the pulse and the roar And the lights of the streaming train 44 ON A BAILWAT PLATFORM 45 That leaps with the heart of thy love once more Out of the mist and the rain ; For the thousand panes of light And the faces pale with mist Streaming out of the desolate night In ruby and amethyst; Out of the desolate years The thundering pageant flows; But I see no more than a window of tears Which her face has turned to a rose. AN OLD SONG ENDED How should I your true love know From another one? — By his cockle-hat and staff And his sandal shoon. — Wherefore hath he roamed so far, Lady, from your hand? — Love's a pilgrim, and he comes Out of Holy Land. — Nay; but he is dead, lady, He is dead and gone : — Seek his grave and lay your face Down upon the stone. — Shall I find him if he sleep In a nameless grave 46 AN OLD SONG ENDED 47 Where over many and many an one The tall wet grasses wave? — Breathe my name whereas you go. If you hear a sound Struggling like a stifled cry Underneath the ground, Whisper but a word to him, Tell him my despair: If he riseth from the dead, Then my love is there. LOVE'S GHOST I Thy house is dark and still : I stand once more Beside the marble door. It opens as of old ! Thy pale, pale face Peers thro' the narrow space. Thy hands are mine, thy hands are mine to hold, Just as of old. II ' Hush ! hush ! or God will hear us ! Ah, speak low As Love spake long ago.* 'Sweet, sweet, are these thine arms, thy breast, thy hair Assuaging my despair. Assuaging the long thirst, quenching the tears Of all these years? 48 love's ghost 49 III ^Thy house is deep and still: God cannot hear; Sweet, have no fear ! Are not thy cold lips crushed against my kiss? Love gives us this. Not God' ; but 'Ah/ she moans, 'God hears us ! Speak, Speak low, hide cheek on cheek/ IV 0, then what eager whisperings, hoarded long, Too sweet for any song. What treasured news to tell, what hopes, what fears. Gleaned from the barren years. What raptures wrung from out the heart of pain, What wild farewells again. V Whose pity is this? Ah, quick, one kiss! Once more 60 love's ghost Closes the marble door ! I grope here in the darkness all alone ! Across the cold white stone, Over thy tomb, a sudden starlight gleams: Death gave me this — in dreams. NIOBE I How like the sky she bends above her child, One with the great horizon of her pain! No sob from our low seas where woe runs wild, No weeping cloud, no momentary rain, Can mar the heaven-high visage of her grief. That frozen anguish, proud, majestic, dumb ! She stoops in pity above the labouring earth. Knowing how fond, how brief Is all its hope, past, present and to come. She stoops in pity, and yearns to assuage its dearth. n Through that fair face the whole dark universe Speaks, as a thorn-tree speaks thro' one white flower; 51 52 NIOBE And all those wrenched Promethean souls that curse The gods, but cannot die before their hour, Find utterance in her beauty. That fair head Bows over all earth's graves. It was her cry Men heard in Rama when the twisted ways With children's blood ran red ! Her silence utters all the sea would sigh; And, in her face, the whole earth's anguish prays. Ill It is the pity, the pity of human love That strains her face, upturned to meet the doom. And her deep bosom, like a snow-white dove Frozen upon its nest, ne'er to resume Its happy breathing o'er the golden brace Whose fostering was her death. Ay, death alone NIOBE 53 Can break the anguished horror of that spell ! The sorrow on her face Is sealed ; the living flesh is turned to stone : She knows all, all that Life and Time can tell. IV Ah, yet, her woman's love, so vast, so tender; Her woman's body, hurt by every dart; Braving the thunder, still, still hide the slender Soft frightened child beneath her mighty heart ! She is all one mute immortal cry, one brief Infinite pang of such victorious pain That she transcends the heavens and bows them down ! The majesty of grief Is hers, and her dominion must remain Eternal. God nor man usurps that crown. THE LAST OF THE TITANS Over what seemed a gulf of glimmering sea, Huger than hugest Himalay arose Atlas, on weary shoulders heaving dark The burden of the heavens, the heavy broad Empurpled floors o' the roseate golden realm Unseen, where gods like living light in light Flowed and forgot the sorrows of the world. And his drooped head was bowed into the gloom, Bowed like a mountain, crushing on his breast A clotted beard of many pinewoods. Dark, Immeasurably dark his body's bulk Sank through the gulfs of Space; but pale as death His face gleamed over Africa, his face, A mask of living marble, bending down Eyes like deep wells of soft compassionate gloom. 54 THE LAST OF TEE TITANS 55 His cheeks were furrowed and writhen like rain-washed crags With fierce ravines of long and age-long tears Whereon the pale procession of the stars That round him moved in mockery sometimes cast A dreary light of anguish; but sometimes The white clouds glimmering crept to comfort him, And to be comforted, by shutting out The keen oppression of those ghttering ranks And dread eternities. They crept hke sheep Round some Titanic shepherd. In his breast They nestled; but whene'er his mighty hands In love would draw them closer, they escaped, Eluded the fond clasp. And, ever drawing nigh him all night long, Wandered away for ever as they came. Beneath him, like a tawny panther-skin The great Sahara slept: beyond it lay, 56 THE LAST OF THE TITANS Parcelled and plotted out like tiny fields, The princedoms and the kingdoms of this earth, Mountains like frozen wrinkles on a sea, And seas like rain-pools in a rutted road Dwindling beneath his loneliness. Above The chariots of ten thousand thousand suns Conspired to make him lonelier and rolled Their flaming wheels remote, so that they seemed, E'en AUoth and Fomalhaut, no more Than dust of diamonds in the abysmal gloom. So from a huger lonehness he gazed Over the world where, faint as morning mists Drifting thro' shadowy battles on the hills. Drifting thro' many a pageant touched with red, Cities of men and nations passed away. But once, from out a crimson-glooming dawn, A light appeared as of a distant star Flying towards him, growing as it came; THE LAST OF THE TITANS 57 Till now it seemed a naked youth up-borne On silver dove-winged sandals, like a god. Then, then as moans the thunder through the night, The heart of Atlas moaned — 'Why art thou come To look upon my sorrow? Nay, I know, Perseus, thou son of the everlasting gods, I know thee who thou art ! Why comest thou thus To mock me with the sight of that high hope Which Atlas never knew? Why comest thou thus In youth and beauty through the crimson dawn V And Perseus answered gently as a man Speaking to one in pain: 'I did not come To mock thee, lord: I come to seek and pluck The heart from out the land without a name. The land without any order, where the hght 58 THE LAST OF THE TITANS Is even as darkness. I would seek and slay Medusa — her whose foul enchantments draw Man's heart into the abominable pit Strangled and' . . .then that other — 'Many a man, Yea, many a hero have I seen go by The glory of whose face was like a god's Upon that quest; but I have never seen The face of one returning. Knowest thou not So terrible is the tempest of her beauty That if thine eyes but look upon her face Thy flesh and soul shall stiffen into stone. Her breasts are girt about with triple brass Against all mortal steel.' And Perseus — 'Yea, I know; but she — the brightest queen of heaven — Athena, gave me mine immortal sword. The sword of knowledge that can shear through brass THE LAST OF THE TITANS 59 And triple steel as lightning cleaves the night. Athena gave me mine immortal shield, The shield of truth : and, mirrored in that gleam, The face of even Medusa hath no power To hurt me. I will look not on her face Save in the shield of truth : I shall not smite her Save with the sword of knowledge, bathed in heaven. I pray thee show me now that bitter road. My death-road as thou sayest; for I will go And triumph and return.^ And Atlas said ^Yea; if I show thee, Perseus, wilt thou give One grace if thou return, one gift of grace To me, world- wearied : I desire to rest. I am weary of bearing this exceeding weight Of gloom eternal, weary of searching heaven With prayers for pity, weary of knowledge, weary Of watching little men a little hour 60 THE LAST OF THE TITANS Beneath the pondering of prodigious heavens Contend Hke ants for little mole-hill realms And glow-worm glories, crowns contemptible ; But thou can'st give me peace, if thou return. Nay, Perseus, I will tell thee when thou comest ; But swear as thou dost love thy fatherland Thou'lt not deny me this if thou return.' And Perseus swore that oath with steadfast eyes, And Atlas pointed out the baleful road Across the shapeless land without a name. White as a snow-flake on the weird black wings Of many a wind fulfilled with hideous dreams. Misshapen horrors of the ultimate gloom,. He flew, till as they gaped with threatening jaws Of flame around his path he donned the helm Wrung from the realms of Pluto, the dark helm Wrought in the lands of death, which whoso wears THE LAST OF THE TITANS 61 Is bodiless and invisible as the soul That hath gone over Lethe. Him no more Can death affright nor mortal doom affray. League after league he sped till from the depths, Up through the darkness came a great soft sound Of breathing, like the breathing of the sea; And, shuddering, he upheld the polished shield And gazed on it as on some magic moon Wherein he saw the glimmering world below Mirrored; beheld what none hath ever seen And lived, since the beginning of the world. ^0, horrible,' he moaned, '0, beautiful. Beautiful hell'; for in the shield he saw Upon what seemed a plain of steaming filth A Titan woman, lying supine and white; White as a fallen column of some huge Temple of Ombos, hugest City of earth. Her body a field of lilies and her breasts 62 THE LAST OF THE TITANS Two snowy hillocks tipt with crimson dawn; Her flank a marble buttress beautiful Couched in the foul abyss; her regal face Calm with the leonine languor of the Sphinx. On either side, close huddled to her flank And in the steam through which she glimmered pale A dark shape, indistinguishable bulk Of horror, couched with laps and folds of skin Like those that wrap Behemoth ; and sometimes, Like the fierce flashing of a wrecker's fire, There came a glint of brazen claws and wings. All round them like a forest swept the deep Empurpled masses of her tangled hair. Anon with slow and sleepy crimson lips. Bright as with blood of heroes, her face turned Smiling to greet each horror with a kiss; And, as she turned, her beauty's palace heaved One rosy marble buttress from the filth THE LAST OF THE TITANS 63 Luxuriously a little, the other sank And wallowed deeper. Suddenly her eyes Opened in childhke innocence. The dark Mass of her hair shook round her like a sea. Its purple clouds all clotted and congealed ! And lo, the primal serpents of the slime Huger than Python, hissing, upward curled And floated round her, coil on heavy coil, Beautiful in their horror as they cast Shadows like grape-bloom o'er her breasts' white snow And swayed their bloated throats : and then a voice From distances beyond the abode of gods Cried, This is She, the Ahominahle, the Queen Of dissolute chaos, knowing not evil or good, Queen of all dark adulteries. Mother of shame. Mother of falsehood, Mother of treachery. Mother of jealousy. Mother of blood and tears, 64 THE LAST OF THE TITANS Queen of the ultimate darkness. At that voice Young Perseus gripped the bright immortal sword Which grave grey-eyed Athena gave him, gazed Steadfastly on the shield and floated down Quietly as a star-beam into hell. Then, with one prayer to the everlasting gods, Across the roseate hollow of her throat He smote ! The immortal blade like hght thro' darkness Flashed, and the blood rolled hissing o'er the filth; And wheresoe'er it curled a serpent rose Hissing a-gape; then with one hideous clap Of thunder those two monstrous bulks arose, Mountainous, like two foul prodigious swine From out their wallowing beds i' the clinging mire; And from what seemed their eyes a ruddy light THE LAST OF THE TITANS 65 Of vengeance flashed, as of wild crimson torches Far-sunken in a thick and savage wood, Yet imminent; but Perseus, with one hand Clutching the tangled gloom of that dire head Soared upward and the silver sandals bore The hero and his burden far away. And though with heavy clang of brazen wings The Gorgons followed, soon they dropped behind And loomed no larger than two carrion flies Against the red horizon; and at last Decayed from sight. And onward Perseus came Triumphantly, a light upon his face As of a god returning, till he saw The mighty shoulders of the world-worn king Atlas, above what seemed a glimmering sea. And up to the grim worn face, furrowed with tears He sped, according to his vow; and Atlas 66 THE LAST OF THE TITANS Moaned like a distant thunder, ^Art thou come, Perseus, thou son of the everlasting gods? Lift up the head and let me look upon it; For I desire to rest.' And Perseus raised The cold head of Medusa, which no man Had seen and hved; and Atlas looked With weary hungering eyes upon her face. And lo, a sleep of stone, an iron rest And everlasting quiet sealed his eyes. His cheeks were furrowed and writhen rain- washed crags. And his drooped head was bowed into the gloom, A granite mountain, crushing on its breast A clotted beard of many pinewoods. Still Round him the clouds like wandering flocks of sheep Around some mighty shepherd creeping close Nestled against his breast ; and all was peace. THE RIDE OF PHAETHON I Forth, from the portals, flow the four immortal steeds Tossing the splendour of their manes. While the dazzled Phaethon reels o'er the flash- ing golden wheels Grasping the fourfold reins. II Ah, beneath the burning hooves how the dark- ness cowers down As the great steeds mount and soar; How the twilight springs away from the wheels like spray And the night like a battle-broken host is driven before. 67 68 THE BIBE OF PHAETHON III And swifter now, ah, swift, as the eight great shoulders hft And leap up the rolling sky, And the steeds in whitest glory ramp and trample on the night And the quivering haunches thrust, they mount and fly. IV Ah, the beauty of their scorn ! How the blood- red nostrils burn. Breathing out the dawn and the day; How the long cloud ranks foam in fury from their flanks And the heavens for their hooves make way. V And higher now and higher, thro' a sea of cloudy fire The chariot sways and swings, THE RIDE OF PHAETHON 69 And the heart of Phaethon leaps, as up the radiant steeps They surge, and drunk with triumph, he lifts his head and sings. VI He sings, he sways and reels o'er the flashing golden wheels. For he sees far, far below, The little dwindling earth and the land that gave him birth And the Northlands white with snow. VII And he shakes the maddened reins o'er the gleaming seas and plains And the chariot swings and sways. Swifter, swifter he would fly than the Master of the sky. The Lord of the sunbeams and bays. 70 THE BIDE OF PHAETHON VIII And each high immortal steed that had never known the need Of Apollo's lash or goad, Tossed the cataract of its mane o'er its quivering croup again ' ' % And ramped on the sun-bright road. IX Beautiful, insolent, fierce. For an instant, a whirlwind of radiance, Tossing their manes. Rampant over the dazzled universe They struggled, while Phaethon, Phaethon tugged at the reins. X Then, like a torrent, a tempest of splendour, a hurricane rapture of wrath and derision Down they galloped, a great white thunder of glory, down the terrible sky; THE BIDE OF PHAETHON 71 Till earth with her rivers and seas and meadows broadened, and filled up the field of their vision And mountains leapt from the plains to meet them, and all the forests and fields drew nigh. XI All the bracken and grass of the mountains flamed and the valleys of corn were wasted, All the blossoming forests of Africa withered and shrivelled beneath their flight; Then, then first, those ambrosial Edens of old by the wheels of the Sun were blasted, Leaving a dread Sahara, lonely, burnt and blackened to greet the night. XII Upward they swerved and swooped once more, the great white steeds, outstretched at the gallop. 72 THE RIDE OF PHAETHON The round earth dwindled beneath their flight, the mighty chariot swayed and swung Under the feet of the charioteer, it swung and swayed as a storm-swept shallop Tosses and leaps in the seas, and Phaethon, cowering, close to the sides of it clung. XIII For now to the stars, to the stars, they surged, and the earth was a dwindling gleam there- under. Yea, now to the home of the Father of gods, and he rose in the wrath that none can quell, Beholding the mortal charioteer, and the rolling heavens were rent with his thunder. And Phaethon, smitten, reeled from the chariot ! Backward and out of it, headlong he fell. THE BIDE OF PHAETHON 73 XIV Down, down, down, down from the glittering heights of the firmament hurled Like a falling star, in a circle of fire, down the sheer abysm of doom, Down to the hiss and the heave of the seas far out on the ultimate verge of the world. That leapt with a roar to meet him, he fell, and they covered him o'er with their glori- ous gloom. Covered him deep with their rolling gloom, Their depths of pitiful gloom. THE EMPIRE-BUILDERS Who are the Empire-builders? They Whose desperate arrogance demands A self-reflecting power to sway A hundred little selfless lands ? Lord God of battles, ere we bow To these and to their soulless lust, Let fall thy thunders on us now And strike us equal to the dust. Before the stars in heaven were made Our great Commander led us forth ; And now the embattled lines are laid To East; to West, to South, to North; According as of old He planned We take our station in the field, 74 THE EMPIRE-BUILDERS 75 Nor dare to dream we understand The splendour of the swords we wield. We know not what the Soul intends That lives and moves behind our deeds; We wheel and march to glorious ends Beyond the common soldier's needs: And some are raised to high rewards, And some by regiments are hurled To die upon the opposing swords And sleep — forgotten by the world. And not where navies churn the foam, Nor called to fields of fierce emprise, In many a country cottage-home. The Empire-builder lives and dies: Or through the roaring street he goes • A lean and weary City slave The conqueror of a thousand foes Who walks, unheeded, to his grave. 76 THE EMPIRE-BUILDEB8 Leaders unknown of hopes forlorn Go past us in the daily mart, With many a shadowy crown of thorn And many a kingly broken heart: Though England's banner overhead Ever the secret signal flew, We only see its Cross is red As children see the skies are blue. For all are Empire-builders here. Whose hearts are true to heaven and home And, year by slow revolving year. Fulfil the duties as they come; So simple seems the task, and yet Many for this are crucified; Ay, and their brother-men forget The simple wounds in palm and side. For hearts that to their home are true Where'er the tides of power may flow, THE EMPIRE-BUILDEB8 77 Have built a kingdom great and new Which Time nor Fate shall overthrow; These are the Empire-builders, these Annex where none shall say them nay, Beyond the world's uncharted seas, Realms that can never pass away. NELSON'S YEAR — 1905 I 'New Year, be good to England !' This year, a hundred years ago, The world attended, breathless, on the gathermg pomp of war. While England and her deathless dead, with all their mighty hearts aglow, Swept onward like the dawn of doom to triumph at Trafalgar; Then the world was hushed to wonder As the cannon's dying thunder Broke out again in muffled peals across the heaving sea, And home the Victor came at last. Home, home, with England's flag half- mast, 78 NELSON'S TEAR — 1905 79 That never dipped to foe before, on Nelson's Victory. II God gave this year to England ; And what God gives He takes again ; God gives us Hfe, God gives us death: our victories have wings. He gives us love and in its heart He hides the whole world's heart of pain I We gain by loss : impartially the eternal balance swings ! Ay ; in the fire we cherish Our thoughts and dreams may perish; Yet shall it bum for England's sake triumphant as of old ! What sacrifice could gain for her Our own shall still maintain for her And hold the gates of freedom wide that take no keys of gold. 80 nelson's tear — 1905 III God gave this year to England; Her eyes are far too bright for tears Of sorrow; by her silent dead she kneels, too proud for pride; Their blood, their love, have bought her right to claim the new imperial years In England's name for Freedom, in whose love her children died; In whose love, though hope may dwindle, Love and brotherhood shall kindle Between the striving nations as a choral song takes fire. Till new hope, new faith, new wonder Cleave the clouds of doubt asunder. And speed the union of mankind in one divine desire. IV Hasten the Kingdom, England ; This year across the listening world nelson's tear — 1905 81 There came a sound of mingled tears where victory and defeat Clasped hands; and Peace — among the dead — stood wistfully, with white wings furled, Knowing the strife was idle; for the night and morning meet, Yet there is no disunion In heaven's divine communion As through the gates of twilight the harmonious morning pours ; Ah, God speed that grander morrow When the world's divinest sorrow Shall show how Love stands knocking at the world's unopened doors. V Hasten the Kingdom, England ! . • Look up across the narrow seas, G 82 nelson's YEAB — 1905 Across the great white nations to thy dark imperial throne Where now three hundred million souls attend on thine august decrees Ah, bow thine head in humbleness, the Kingdom is thine own: Not for the pride or power God gave thee this in dower; But, now the West and East have met and wept their mortal loss. Now that their tears have spoken And the long dumb spell is broken. Is it nothing that thy banner bears the red eternal cross ? VI Ay ! Lift the flag of England ; And lo, that Eastern cross is there. Veiled with a hundred meanings as our English eyes are veiled; nelson's tear — 1905 83 Yet to the grander dawn we move oblivi- ous of the sign we bear, Oblivious of the heights we climb until the last is scaled ; Then with all the earth before us And the great cross floating o'er us We shall break the sword we forged of old, so weak we were and blind; While the inviolate heaven discloses England's Rose of all the roses Dawning wide and ever wider o'er the kingdom of mankind. VII Hasten the Kingdom, England; For then all nations shall be one; One as the ordered stars are one that sing upon their way. One with the rhythmic glories of the swing- ing sea and the rolling sun. 84 nelson's teab — wos One with the flow of life and death, the tides of night and day; One with all dreams of beauty, One with all laws of duty ; One with the weak and helpless while the one sky burns above; Till eyes by tears made glorious Look up at last victorious And lips that starved break open in one song of life and love. VIII 'New Year, be good to England;' And when the Spring returns again Rekindle in our English hearts the universal Spring, That we may wait in faith upon the former and the latter rain, Till all waste places burgeon and the wildernesses sing; nelson's tear — 1905 85 Pour the glory of thy pity Through the dark and troubled city; Pour the splendour of thy beauty over wood and meadow fair ; May the God of battles guide thee And the Christ-child walk beside thee With a word of peace for England in the dawn of Nelson's Year. IN TIME OF WAR I To-night o'er Bagshot heath the purple heather Rolls like dumb thunder to the splendid West ; And mighty ragged clouds are massed together Above the scarred old common's broken breast; And there are hints of blood between the boulders, Red glints of fiercer blossom, bright and bold; And round the shaggy mounds and sullen shoul- ders The gorse repays the sun with savage gold. And now, as in the West the light grows holy. And all the hollows of the heath grow dim, 86 IN TIME OF WAR 87 Far off, a sulky rumble rolls up slowly Where guns at practice growl their evening hymn. And here and there in bare clean yellow spaces The print of horse-hoofs Hke an answering cry Strikes strangely on the sense from lonely places Where there is nought but empty heath and sky. The print of warlike hoofs, where now no figure Of horse or man along the sky's red rim Breaks on the low horizon's rough black rigour To make the gorgeous waste less wild and grim; Strangely the hoof-prints strike, a Crusoe's wonder, Framed with sharp furze amongst the footless fells 88 IN TIME OF WAR A menace and a mystery, rapt asunder, As if the whole wide world contained nought else, — Nought but the grand despair of desolation Between us and that wild, how far, how near, Where, clothed with thunder, nation grapples nation, And Slaughter grips the clay-cold hand of Fear. II And far above the purple heath the sunset stars awaken. And ghostly hosts of cloud across the West begin to stream. And all the low soft winds with muffled cannon- ades are shaken. And all the blood-red blossom draws aloof into a dream: IN TIME OF WAR 89 A dream — no more — and round the dream the clouds are curled together; A dream of two great stormy hosts embat- tled in the sky; For there against the low red heavens each purple clump of heather Becomes a serried host of spears around a battle-cry; Becomes the distant battle-field or brings the dream so near it That, almost, as the purple smoke around them reels and swims, A thousand grey-Hpped faces flash — ah, hark, - the heart can hear it — The sharp command, the clash of steel, the sudden sough of limbs. And through the purple thunders there are silent shadows creeping 90 IJSr TIME OF WAR With murderous gleams of light, and then — a mighty leaping roar Where foe and foe are met ; and then — a long low sound of weeping As Death laughs out from sea to sea, another fight is o'er. Another fight — but ah, how much is over ? Night descending Draws o'er the scene her ghastly moon-shot veil with piteous hands; But all around the bivouac-glare the shadowy pickets wending See sights, hear sounds that only war's own madness understands. No circle of the accursed dead where dreaming Dante wandered. No city of death's eternal dole could match this mortal world IN TIME OF WAR 91 Where men, before the living soul and quivering flesh are sundered, Through all the bestial shapes of pain to one wide grave are hurled. But in the midst for those who dare beyond the fringe to enter Be sure one kingly figure lies with pale and blood-soiled face, And round his brows a ragged crown of thorns; and in the centre Of those pale folded hands and feet the sigil of his grace. See, how the pale limbs, marred and scarred in love's lost battle, languish; See how the splendid passion still smiles quietly from his eyes; Come, come and see a king indeed, who triumphs in his anguish, 92 IN TIME OF WAR Who conquers here in utter loss beneath the eternal skies. For unto lips so deadly calm what answer shall be given? Oh pale, pale king so deadly still beneath the unshaken stars, Who shall deny thy kingdom here, though heaven and earth were riven With the last roar of onset in the world's intestine wars ? All round him reeks the obscene red hell — the scream of haggled horses. The curse, the moan, the tossing arms, the hideous twisted forms. Where, as the surgeons call up life's last pitiful resources. The darkness heaves around them like a mass of mangled worms. m TIME OF WAB 93 ^Life, doctor, life!' ^Be wise; you'd better die : 'twill soon be over/ — The blackened trunk drops guttering back, the mouth is dumb again: * What use were life to you, my lad ? she wouldn't know her lover. And cruelty here is pity's best — to put you out of pain.' And far away in lonely homes the lamp of hope is burning. All night the white-faced women wait with aching eyes of prayer. All night the little children dream of father's glad returning; All night he lies beneath the stars and — dreams no more out there. Only the senseless clay-cold hand may clasp some crumpled letter, — 94 IN TIME OF WAB A lantern — see — the big round scrawl, the child's long-studied phrase' ' When Dadda comes again ... his girl will try so much much better : She'll be much taller, too; and much more grown up in her ways.' The laugh is Death's; he laughs as erst o'er hours that England cherished, ^ Count up, count up the stricken homes that wail the first-born son. Count by your starved and fatherless the tale of what hath perished ; Then gather with your foes and ask if you — or I — have won.' Ill O'er Bagshot heath it rolls, the old old story, — The great moon dawns; the sunset dies away; IN TIME OF WAR 95 Year strengthens year as glory kindles glory From its own sad procession of decay. When shall the sun-dawn of the perfect nation, Rise pure and white above the blood-red sea; When shall war die and by death's new creation Begin the long-sought world-wide harmony? Nearer, still nearer creeps the light we hope for, Yet still eludes our war-worn aching eyes : Nearer, still nearer, steals the truth we grope for, Yet, as we think to grasp it, fades and flies. The world rolls on; and love and peace are mated: Still on the breast of England, like a star, The blood-red lonely heath blows, consecrated, A brooding practice-ground for blood-red war. Yet is there nothing out of tune with Nature There, where the skylark showers his earliest song, 96 IN TIME OF WAR Where sun and wind have moulded every feature, And one world-music bears each note along. There many a brown-winged kestrel swoops or hovers In poised and patient quest of his own prey; And there are fern-clad glens where happy lovers May kiss the murmuring summer noon away. There, as the primal earth was — all is glorious Perfect and wise and wonderful in view Of that great heaven through which we rise victorious O'er all that strife and change and death can do. No nation yet has risen o'er earth's first nature ; Though love illumed each individual mind, Still, like some dark half-formed primeval creature The fierce mob crawled a thousand years be- hind. m TIME OF WAR 97 Still on the standards of the great World-Powers Lion and bear and eagle sullenly brood, Whether the slow folds flap o'er halcyon hours Or stream tempestuously o'er fields of blood. By war's red evolution we have risen Far, since fierce Erda chose her conquering few, And out of Death's red gates and Time's grey prison They burst, elect from battle, tried and true, Tempered like sword-blades; but life's vast procession Has passed beyond the help of war's wild day. The day where now a world in retrogression Goes hurrying down the broad and hopeless way. For now Death mocks at youth and love and glory, H 98 IN TIME OF WAR Chivalry slinks behind his loaded mines, With meaner murderous lips War tells her story, And round her cunning brows no laurel shines. And here to us the eternal charge is given To rise and make our low world touch God's high: To hasten God's own kingdom, Man's own heaven, And teach Love's grander army how to die. No kingdom then, no long-continuing city Shall e'er again be stablished by the sword; No blood-bought throne defy the powers of pity. No despot's crown outweigh one helot's word. Imperial England, breathe thy marching orders : The great host waits ; the end, the end is close. When earth shall know thy peace in all her borders. And all her deserts blossom with thy Rose. IN TIME OF WAR 99 Princedoms and peoples rise and flash and perish As the dew passes from the flowering thorn ; Yet the one Kingdom that our dreams still cherish Lives in a light that blinds the world's red morn. Hasten the Kingdom, England, the days darken; We would not have thee slacken watch or ward, Nor doff thine armour till the whole world hearken. Nor till Time bid thee lay aside the sword. Hasten the Kingdom; hamlet, heath, and city. We are all at war, one bleeding bulk of pain ; Little we know; but one thing — by God's pity — We know, and know all else on earth is vain. We know not yet how much we dare, how little ; We dare not dream of peace ; yet, as at need. 100 IN TIME OF WAR England, God help thee, let no jot or tittle Of Love's last law go past thee without heed. Who saves his life shall lose it ! The great ages Bear witness — Rome and Babylon and Tyre Cry from the dust-stopped lips of all their sages, There is no hope if man can climb no higher. England, by God's grace set apart to ponder A little while from battle, ah, take heed. Keep watch, keep watch, beside thy sleeping thunder; Call down Christ's pity while those others bleed; Waken the God within thee, while the sorrow Of battle surges round a distant shore, While Time is thine, lest on some deadly mor- row The moving finger write — hut thine no more. IN TIME OF WAR 101 Little we know — but though the advancing aeons Win every painful step by blood and fire, Though tortured mouths must chant the world^s great paeans, And martyred souls proclaim the world's de- sire; Though war be nature's engine of rejection, Soon, soon, across her universal verge The great surviving host of Time's election Shall into God's diviner light emerge. Hasten the Kingdom, England, queen and mother; Little we know of all Time's works and ways ; Yet this, this, this is sure: we need none other Knowledge or wisdom, hope or aim or praise, 102 IN TIME OF WAB But to keep this one stormy banner flying In this one faith that none shall e'er dis- prove, Then drive the embattled world before thee, crying, There is one Emperor, whose name is Love. TO ENGLAND IN 1907 (a prayer that she might speak for peace) I Now is thy foot set on the splendid wayl Hold this hour fast, though yet the skies be grey: Lift up thy voice to greet the perfect day, Speak, England, speak across the trembling sea. E'en now the grandest dawn that ever rose Is flooding heaven with glory: the light grows White as a star where thy keen helmet glows Fronting the morn that sets all nations free. Ill Speak, from thine island throne ! Here, in thy Gate, Now, for thy voice alone, the nations wait: 103 104 TO ENGLAND IN 1907 Speak, with the heart that made and keeps thee great, Speak the great word of peace from sea to sea. IV The nations wait, scarce knowing what they need: Cold cunning claims their ears for lust and greed ! The poor and weak, with struggling hands that bleed Pray to thee now that thou wilt set them free. V Thou that hast dared so many a thunder-blast Is all thy vaunted empery so soon past? First of the first, art thou afraid at last To hold thy hands out first across the sea? VI Not for such fears God gave thee thy rich dower, The sea-wrought sceptre and the imperial power ! TO ENGLAND IN 1907 105 Ages have poured their blood for this one hour That thou might'st speak and set the whole world free. VII The poor and weak uplift their manacled hands To thee, our Mother, our Lady and Queen of lands : Anguished in prayer before thy footstool stands Peace, with her white wings glimmering o'er the sea. VIII Others may shrink whose naked frontiers face A million foemen of an alien race; But thou. Imperial, by thy pride of place, 0, canst thou falter or fear to set them free? IX Thou, thou alone canst speak ; thou, thou alone, From the sure citadel of thy rock-bound throne : 106 TO ENGLAND IN 1907 Trust thy strong heart ; thine island is thine own, Girt with the thunder and lightning of the sea. X Fools prate of pride where butchered legions fall; Peace has one battle sterner than them all, (England, on thee our ringing trumpets call !) One battle that shall set the whole world free. XI Speak, speak and act ! The sceptre is in thine hand ; Proclaim the reign of love from land to land ; Then, come the world against thee, thou shalt stand ! Speak, with the world-wide voice of thine own sea. IN CLOAK OF GREY I Love's a pilgrim, cloaked in grey, And his feet are pierced and bleeding; Have ye seen him pass this way Sorrowfully pleading? Ye that weep the world away Have ye seen King Love to-day? II Yea, we saw him; but he came Poppy-crowned and white of limb, Song had touched his lips to flame. And his eyes were drowsed and dim; And we kissed the hours away Till night grew rosier than the day. 107 108 IN CLOAK OF GREY III Hath he left you ? — Yea, he left us A little while ago; Of his laughter quite bereft us And his limbs of snow: We know not why he went away, Who ruled our revels yesterday ! — IV Because ye did not understand Love Cometh from afar, A pilgrim out of Holy Land, Guided by a star; Last night he came in cloak of grey Begging ! Ye knew him not ! He went his way. A RIDE FOR THE QUEEN Queen of queens, oh lady mine, You who say you love me, Here's a cup of crimson wine To the stars above me; Here's a cup of blood and gall For a soldier's quaffing ! What's the prize to crown it all? Death? I'll take it laughing! I ride for the Queen to-night! Though I find no knightly fee Waiting on my lealty, High upon the gallows-tree Faithful to my fealty, What had I but love and youth, Hope and fame in season? 109 110 A RIDE FOR THE QUEEN She has proved that more than truth Glorifies her treason! Would that other do as much? Ah, but if in sorrow Some forgotten look or touch Pierce her heart to-morrow, She might love me yet, I think; So her lie befriends me, Though I know there's darker drink Down the road she sends me. Ay, one more great chance is mine ! (Can I faint or falter?) She shall pour my blood like wine, Make my heart her altar. Burn it to the dust ! For, there, What if o'er the embers She should stoop and — I should hear - 'Hush! Thy love remembers!' A RIDE FOR THE QUEEN 111 One more chance for every word Whispered to betray me, While she buckled on my sword, Smiling to allay me; One more chance; ah, let me not Mar her perfect pleasure; Love shall pay me, jot by jot, Measure for her measure. Faith shall think I never knew, I will be so fervent ! Doubt shall dream I dreamed her true, As her war-worn servant ! Whoso flouts her spotless name (Love, I wear thy token !) He shall face one sword of flame Ere the lie be spoken ! God, the world is white with May, (Fragrant as her bosom !) 112 A RIDE FOR THE QUEEN Could I find a sweeter way Through the year's young blossom, Where her warm red mouth on mine Woke my soul's desire? Hey ! The cup of crimson wine, Blood and gall and fire ! Castle Doom or Gates of Death? (Smile again for pity !) 'Boot and horse/ my lady saith, 'Spur against the City, Bear this message!' God and she Still forget the guerdon; Nay, the rope is on the tree! That shall bear the burden ! I ride for the Queen to-night! SONG I When that I loved a maiden My heaven was in her eyes, And when they bent above me I knew no deeper skies; But when her heart forsook me, My spirit broke its bars, For grief beyond the sunset And love beyond the stars. n When that I loved a maiden, She seemed the world to me: Now is my soul the universe, My dreams — the sky and sea ! I . 113 114 SONG There bends no heaven above me, No glory binds or bars My grief beyond the sunset, My love beyond the stars. Ill When that I loved a maiden, I worshipped where she trod; But, when she clove my heart, the cleft Set free the imprisoned god; Then was I King of all the world ! My soul had burst its bars For grief beyond the sunset And love beyond the stars. EVE'S APPLE I When you leant thro' the leaves with your slow red smile and your ivory body bare, Ah, what was the fruit you gathered that day, white Eve with the dusky hair? For we took it and ate it together and laughed ! Your white teeth bit to the core. There was little to leave for the doves to peck, when our delicate feast was o'er. n The ripe fruit breathed of kisses, you said, as your breasts' white apples may; But your body was cold from the coils of the snake when you came to my arms that day : 115 116 eve's apple There was blood, red blood on our lips, white Eve, as we nibbled away in the sun; But I knew that the fruit was my heart, white Eve, The red rent core of my heart, white Eve, Which we gnawed and left for the rats, white Eve, when our delicate feast was done. RECOLLECTIONS OF A SONG I ^Gome to me in my dreams V — how oft With eyes how kind and voice how soft, I heard thee sing, at fall of day, The scholar poet's tenderest lay. ******* II But oh, come not to me; for then The dear dead love will stir again; And when the cold light bids me wake With each new day my heart will break. ni Come not in dreams; how could I bear Once more to feel thy love so near, And dream it true, yet inly know What bitter treachery lurked below? 117 118 BECOLLECTIONS OF A SONG IV Come not, as thou vnlt come, despite All prayers, in watches of the night. With eyes made bright by foolish tears And fleeting gleams of happier years. V Come not, as thou hast come of old, To flood a sunless world with gold. Or, with the mockery of a smile. Cheat me to dream thee kind awhile. VI Come not, as thou so oft didst come. When sorrow made me blind and dumb, To lay false lips on mine and say ^ Sweet love can never pass away.' VII Come not in dreams to me; for then The dear dead love will stir again; And, when the cold light bids me wake. With each new day my heart will break. E TENEBRIS I Into the keeping of death I commend my love, Into the gloom of the grave And the lasting sleep! Yet there is hope, one saith, In some glory above, For the broken, the broken wave That is lost in the deep. n O, I know not their meaning at all. They speak idly to me, Who say that the lost things return As day foUoweth night ! 119 120 E TENEBBI8 I watch the leaves fall And waves break on the sea, And the strange skies that burn With the stranger day's light. Ill Shall I care if another day greet me In crimson and gold, Though the skies be still blue When the eyes that were kind Flash no longer to meet me As of old, as of old, With a love that was true. Or a dream that was blind? IV I have no hope, no faith. No desire any more. That the last year's flower Should return to the spray: E TENEBBIS 121 ^Spring Cometh, spring cometh/ one saith; But who shall restore Just the one perished hour Of that one perished May? SONNET Love, when the great hour knelled for thee and me, The great hour that should prove thee false or true, When life surged round us like a wintry sea And thy heart feared to say what both hearts knew; When all thy vows and honeyed words were proven False to the core of thy poor treacherous heart ; When by God's fire my heart's false heaven was cloven And, white and dumb, our torn souls turned to part; 0, never think — for all the flash and thunder That showed us the dead body at our feet, 122 SONNET 123 Though heaven and hell conspired our souls to sunder And though we twain in hell nor heaven shall meet, Think not, where'er Love's clay-wrought idols lie. The Love to which I prayed through these can die. THE REAL DANTE I Love, Love, Love, Death robbed me unaware, Undreaming that we ne'er should meet again, Else had one soul's infinity of pain Moated thee round with waves for Hell to dare. Yea, in that fight, even now, might I but share. Poor craven I, who yet on earth remain, Heaven, heaven itself should menace us in vain. Thy heart on mine, my lips upon thine hair. I have lost courage. Love, in losing thee. Courage to bear this wonder of the sky, Courage to front that dark Eternity, Courage to brook life's pitiful riddle — Why, Why hath God hurt us thus? Poor broken cry Quivering, unanswered, o'er the world's wide sea! 124 THE MEAL DANTE 125 II And thou art sleeping on that silent shore ! And thou can'st never, never, once return ! Not though the starved heart strain to thee and yearn, And the lame hands reach upward and implore, And the wrenched lips reiterate, o'er and o'er. One thought wherewith the pitiless planets burn. One lesson life is all too short to learn. One simple sob of the soul — No more, no more ! My life shall never learn it ! Come thou back, 0, give the lie to all this dust hath said ! Come, let the stars retrace their shining track, Steal from that solemn midnight of the dead ! Though as a dream thou canst but pass me by. Come, give my heart the strength to break and die. A PRAYER Only a little, Father, only to rest Or ever the night come and the Eternal sleep, Only to rest for a little, a little to weep In the dead love's pitiful arms, on the dead love's breast, A little to loosen the frozen fountains, to free Rivers of blood and tears that should slacken the pulse Of this pitiless heart and appease these pangs that convulse Body and soul ! 0, out of Eternity, A moment to whisper, only a moment to tell My dead, my dead, what words are so helpless to say — 126 A PRATER 127 The dreams unuttered, the prayers no passion could pray — And then, the eternal sleep or the pains of hell, I could welcome them. Father, gladly as ever a child Laying his head on the pillow might turn to his rest And remember in dreams, as the hand of the mother is prest On his hair, how the Pitiful blessed him of old and smiled. OLD JAPAN AT EARL'S COURT I Of old Japan — how far away ! — We dreamed — how long ago ! — We saw by twisted creek and bay The blue plum-blossoms blow, And dragons coiling down below Like dragons on a fan, And pig-tailed sailors lurching slow Thro' streets of old Japan. II Who knows that land — that dim blue day Where white tea-roses grow? Only a penny all the way They cry in Pimhco: 128 OLD JAPAN AT EARL'S COURT 129 The busses rumble to and fro, Ah, catch one if you can. And see the paper-lanterns glow Thro' streets of old Japan. Ill What need we more than youth and May To make our Miyako ? A chuckle from the cherry spray A cherub's mocking crow, A sudden twang, a sweet swift throe As Daisy trips by Dan, And careless Cupid drops his bow And laughs — from old Japan. IV And there the cherry hough shall sway The peach-bloom shed its snow, With scents and petals strewn astray Till night he sweet enow: K 130 OLD JAPAN AT EABL'S COUBT Then lovers wander, whispering low As lovers only can Where rosy paper lanterns glow Through streets of old Japan. OXFORD REVISITED Timid and strange, like a ghost, I pass the famil- iar portals, Echoing now like a tomb, they accept me no more as of old; Yet I go wistfully onward, a shade thro' a king- dom of mortals Wanting a face to greet me, a hand to grasp and to hold. Hardly I know as I go if the beautiful City is only Mocking me under the moon, with its streams and its willows agleam, Whether the City of friends or I that am friend- less and lonely, Whether the boys that go by or the time-worn towers be the dream ; 131 132 OXFORD REVISITED Whether the walls that I know, or the unknown fugitive faces, Faces like those that I loved, faces that haunt and waylay, Faces so like and unlike, in the dim unforgettable places, Startling the heart into sickness that aches with the sweet of the May, — Whether all these or the world with its wars be the wandering shadows ! Ah, sweet over green-gloomed waters the may hangs, crimson and white; And quiet canoes creep down by the warm gold dusk of the meadows Lapping with little splashes and ripples of silvery light. Others like me have returned : I shall see the old faces to-morrow. OXFORD REVISITED 133 Down by the gay-coloured barges, alert for the throb of the oars, Wanting to row once again, or tenderly jesting with sorrow Up the old stairways and noting the strange new names on the doors. Is it a dream ? And I know not nor care if there be an awaking Ever at all any more, for the years that have torn us apart, Few, so few as they are, will ever be rending and breaking : Sooner by far than I knew have they wrought this change for my heart ! Well ; I grow used to it now ! Could the dream but remain and for ever, With the flowers round the grey quadrangle laughing as time grows old ! 134 OXFORD BEVISITED For the waters go down to the sea, but the sky still gleams on the river ! We plucked them — but there shall be lilies, ivory lilies and gold. And still, in the beautiful City, the river of life is no duller, Only a little strange as the eighth hour dreamily chimes. In the City of friends and echoes, ribbons and music and colour, Lilac and blossoming chestnut, willows and whispering limes. Over the Radcliffe Dome the moon as the ghost of a flower Weary and white awakes in the phantom fields of the sky : The trustful shepherded clouds are asleep over steeple and tower, OXFOBD BEVISITEB 135 Dark under Magdalen walls the Cher like a dream goes by. Back, we come wandering back, poor ghosts, to the home that one misses Out in the shelterless world, the world that was heaven to us then. Back from the coil and the vastness, the stars and the boundless abysses. Like monks from a pilgrimage stealing in bliss to their cloisters again. City of dreams that we lost, accept now the gift we inherit — Love, such a love as we knew not of old in the blaze of our noon. We that have found thee at last, half City, half heavenly Spirit, While over a mist of spires the sunset mellows the moon. EARTH'S IMMORTALITIES I No more, proud singers, boast no more ! Your high immortal throne Will scarce outlast a king's! Time is a sea that hath no shore Wherein Death idly flings Your fame like some small pebble-stone That sinks to rise no more. Then hoast no more, "proud singers. Your high immortal throne! II This earth, this Httle grain of dust, Drifting among the stars. With her invisible wars, Her love, her hate, her lust, 136 EABTH'S IMMORTALITIES 137 This microscopic ball Whereof you scan a part so small Outlasts but little even your own poor dust. Then boast no more, provd singers, Your high immortal throne! Ill That golden spark of light must die, Which now you call your sun, Soon will its race be run Around its trivial sky: What hand shall then unroll Dead Maro's little golden scroll When earth and sun in one wide charnel lie ? Boast no more, proud singers! Your high immortal throne Will scarce outlast a king's. THE TESTIMONY OF ART As earth, sad earth, thrusts many a gloomy cape Into the sea's bright colour and living glee, So do we strive to embay that mystery Which earthly hands must ever let escape; The Word we seek for is the golden shape That shall express the Soul we cannot see, A temporal chalice of Eternity Purple with beating blood of the hallowed grape. Once was it wine and sacramental bread Whereby we knew the power that through Him smiled When, in one still small utterance. He hurled The Eternities beneath his feet and said With lips, meek as any little child. Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world, 138 SONG I Nymphs and naiads, come away, Love lies dead ! Cover the cast-back golden head, Cover the lovely limbs with may. And with fairest boughs of green And many a rose-wreathed brier spray; But let no hateful yew be seen Where Love lies dead. n Let not the quean that would not hear (Love lies dead !) Or beauty that refused to save Exult in one dejected tear; 139 140 80NG But gather the glory of the year, The pomp and glory of the year, The triumphing glory of the year. And softly, softly, softly shed Its light and fragrance round the grave Where Love lies dead. REMEMBRANCE UNFORGOTTEN lips, grey haunting eyes, Soft curving cheeks and heart-remembered brow, It is all true, the old love never dies. And — parted — we must meet for ever now. We did not think it true ! We did not think Love meant this universal cry of pain. This crown of thorn, this vinegar to drink. This lonely crucifixion o'er again. Yet, through the darkness of the sleepless night. Your tortured face comes meekly answering mine ; Dumb, but I know why those mute lips are white, 141 142 BEMEMBBANCE Dark, but I know why those dark lashes shine. Love, Love, Love, and what if this should be For ever now, through God's Eternity? UNITY I Heart of my heart, the world is young; Love lies hidden in every rose ! Every song that the skylark sung Once, we thought, must come to a close: Now we know the spirit of song, Song that is merged in the chant of the whole, Hand in hand as we wander along. What should we doubt of the years that roll ? n Heart of my heart, we cannot die ! Lcve triumphant in flower and tree, Every life that laughs at the sky Tells us nothing can cease to be: 143 144 UNITY One, we are one with a song to-day, One with the clover that scents the wold. One with the Unknown, far away, One with the stars, when earth grows old. ra Heart of my heart, we are one with the wind, One with the clouds that are whirled o'er the lea. One in many, broken and blind. One as the waves are at one with the sea ! Ay ! when life seems scattered apart. Darkens, ends as a tale that is told. One, we are one, heart of my heart. One still one, while the world grows old. JOY AND PAIN Beloved, I could not tame thy wild bright wings ! Thy flight was like a seabird's down the skies : I could but catch the brightness of thine eyes; And then — the wind that buffets, the spray that stings And lashes and blinds a shore that only rings With the elemental storms bore down my cries, And where the clotted foam in fury flies Thou hadst flown rejoicing in all cruel things. I know thee now, Beloved, for thou art come With blood-stained breast into my fostering hand ! L 145 146 JOT AND PAIN weary wings that have come home again, beating heart where every song lies dumb, wounded bird, at last I understand, 1 understand those wild bright eyes of pain. IN THE COOL OF THE EVENING I In the cool of the evening, when the low sweet whispers waken, When the labourers turn them homeward, and the weary have their will. When the censers of the roses o'er the forest- aisles are shaken Is it but the wind that cometh o'er the far green hill? II For they say 'tis but the sunset winds that wander thro' the heather, Rustle all the meadow-grass and bend the dewy fern: 147 148 IN THE COOL OF TEE EVENING They say 'tis but the winds that bow the reeds in prayer together, And fill the shaken pools with fire along the shadowy burn. Ill In the beauty of the twilight, in the Garden that He loveth, They have veiled his lovely vesture with the darkness of a name ! Thro' His Garden, thro' His Garden, it is but the wind that moveth, No more ! But the miracle, the miracle is the same. IV In the cool of the evening, when the sky is an old story. Slowly dying, but remembered, ay, and loved with passion still . . . IN THE COOL OF THE EVENING 149 Hush! . . . the fringes of His garment, in the fading golden glory Softly rustling as He cometh o'er the far green hill. THE COTTAGE OF THE KINDLY LIGHT There is a valley of fir-woods in the West That slopes between great mountains to the sea. Once, at the valley's mouth, a cottage stood: Its ruins remain, like boulders of a rock, High on the hill, whose base is white with foam. To its forsaken garden sometimes come Lovers, who lean upon its grass-grown gate And listen to the sea-song far below; Or little children, with their baskets, trip Merrily through the fir-woods and the fern, And climb the crumbling thistle-empurpled wall Around the tangled copse, and laugh to find The hardy straggling raspberries all their own. Round it the curlews wheel and cry all night ; And, with no other comfort than the stars 150 THE COTTAGE OF THE KINDLY LIGHT 151 Can faintly shed from their familiar heights It has been patient, while the world below Has hidden itself in darkness and in clouds Of terror from the landward-rushing storm. Like a small gleam of quartz in a great rock, A tiny beacon in the whirling gloom, It stood and gathered sorrow from the world. There, many years ago, a woman dwelt, A sailor's widow with her only son; And ever as she hugged him to her heart In those glad days when he was but a child. Her memories of one black eternal night When she had watched and waited for the sail That nevermore returned, filled her with one Supreme, almost unbreathable, desire That this her little one, her living bliss. The last caress incarnate of her love. Should never leave her side; or, if he left. 152 TEE COTTAGE OF THE KINDLY LIGHT Never set forth upon the sea : her flesh Shuddered as the sea shuddered in the sun Over the cold grave of her first last love Even to dream of it ; yet she remained Silent and passive on her sea-washed hill, Facing the sunset, in that lonely home, Where everything bore witness to the sea, — The shells her love had brought from foreign lands, The model ship he built; yet she remained. For her first kisses lingered in the scent Of those rough wallflowers round the white- washed walls, And the first flush of love that touched her cheek Lingered and lived and died and lived again In the pink thrift that nodded by the gate. As if these and her outlook o'er the sea Were nought else but her soul's one atmosphere. Wherein alone she lived and moved and breathed, THE COTTAGE OF THE KINDLY LIGHT 153 Having no other thought but This is home, My part in God's eternity, she still Remained. The lad grew; yet her fear was dumb. The lad grew, and the white foam kissed his feet Sporting upon the verge: the green waves laughed And smote their hard bright kisses on his lips As he swam out to meet them : the whole sea, Like some strange symbol of the spiritual deeps That hourly lure the soul of man in quest Of beauty, pleasure, knowledge, summoned him out, Out from the old faiths, the old fostering arms of home. Called him with strange new voices evermore. Called him with ringing names of high renown, With white-armed sirens in its blossoming waves, And heavenly cities in its westering suns; 154 THE COTTAGE OF THE KINDLY LIGHT Called him; and old adventures filled his heart, And he forgot, as all of us forget. The imperishable and infinite desire Of the vacant arms and bosom that still yearn For the little vanished children, still, still ache To keep their children little ! He grew wroth At aught that savoured of such fostering care As mothers long to lavish, aught that seemed To rob him of his manhood, his free-will : And she — she understood and she was dumb. And so the lad grew up ; and he was tall, Supple, and sunburnt, and a flower of men. His eyes had caught the blue of sea-washed skies, And deepened with strange manhood, till, at last, One eve in May his mother wandered down The hill to await his coming, wistfully Wandered, touching with vague and dreaming hands THE COTTAGE OF THE KINDLY LIGHT 155 The uncrumpling fronds of fern and budding roses As if she thought them but the ghosts of spring. From far below the golden breezes brought A mellow music from the village church, Which o'er the fragrant fir-wood she could see Pointing a sky-blue spire to heaven : she knew That music, her most heart-remembered song — ^^Sun of my soul, thou Saviour dear, It is not night if Thou be near!'^ And as the music made her one with all That soft transfigured world of eventide, One with the flame that sanctified the West, One with the golden sabbath of the sea, One with the sweet responses of the woods. One with the kneeling mountains, there she saw In a tangle of ferns and roses and wild light Shot from the sunset through a glade of fir. 156 THE COTTAGE OF TEE KINDLY LIGHT Her boy and some young rival in his arms, A girl of seventeen summers, dusky-haired, Grey-eyed, and breasted like a crescent moon. Lifting her red lips in a dream of love Up to the red lips of her only son. Jealousy numbed the mother's lonely soul, And, sickening at the heart, she stole away. Yet she said nothing when her boy returned; And, after supper, she took down the Book, Her own dead grandsire's massive wedding-gift. The large-print Bible, like a corner-stone Hewn from the solemn fabric of his life — An heirloom for the guidance of his sons And their sons' sons; and every night her boy Read it aloud to her — a last fond link Frayed and nigh snapt already, for she knew It irked him. And he read. Abide with m, For the day is far spent; and she looked at him THE COTTAGE OF THE KINDLY LIGHT 157 Shyly, furtively. With great tears she gazed As on a stranger in her child's new face. At last he told her all — told of his love, And how he must grow wealthy now and make A home for his young sweetheart, how he meant To work upon a neighbour's fishing-boat Till he could buy one for himself. He ceased ; Far off the sea sighed and a curlew wailed; A soft breeze brought a puff of wallflower scent Warm through the casement. He looked up and smiled Into his mother's face, and saw the tears Creep through the gnarled old hands that hid her eyes. He saw the star-light glisten on her tears ! He could not understand : her lips were dumb. Oh, dumb and patient as our Mother Earth Watching from age to age the silent, swift, 158 THE COTTAGE OF THE KINDLY LIGHT Light-hearted progress of her careless sons By new-old ways to one unaltering doom, Through the long nights she waited as of old Till in the dawn — and coloured like the dawn — The tawny sails came home across the bar. And every night she placed a little lamp In the cottage window, that if e'er he gazed Homeward by night across the heaving sea He might be touched to memory. But she said Nothing. The lamp was like the liquid light In some dumb creature's eyes, that can but wait Until its master chance to see its love And deign to touch its brow. Now in those days There went a preacher through the country-side Filling men's hearts with fire; and out at sea The sailors sang great hymns to God ; and one Stood up one night, among the gleaming nets A-stream with silver herring in the moon. THE COTTAGE OF THE KINDLY LIGHT 159 And pointed to the lamp that burned afar And said, ^ Such is that Kindly Light we sing ! ' And ever afterwards the widow's house Was called The Cottage of the Kindly Light One night there came a storm up from the wild Atlantic, and a cry of fierce despair Rang through the fishing village ; and brave men Launched the frail lifeboat through a shawl-clad crowd Of weeping women. But, high o'er the storm. High on the hill one lonely woman stood, Amongst the thunders and the driving clouds. Searching, at every world-wide lightning glare. The sudden miles of white stampeding sea; Searching for what she knew was lost, ay lost For ever now; but some strange inward pride Forbade her to go down and mix with those Who could cry out their loss upon the quays. 160 THE COTTAGE OF THE KINDLY LIGHT High on the hill she stood and watched alone, Confessing nothing, acknowledging nothing. Without one moan, without one outward prayer, Buffeted by the scornful universe, Over the crash of seas that shook the world She stood, one steadfast fragment of the night ; And the wind kissed her and the weeping rain. ******* But braver men than those who fought the sea At dawn tramped up the hill, with aching hearts. To break her loss to her who knew it all Far better than the best of them. She stood Still at her gate and watched them as they came, Curiously noting in a strange dull dream The gleaming colours, the little rainbow pools The dawn made in their rough wet oilskin hats And wrinkled coats, like patches of the sea. 'Lost? My boy lost?' she smiled. 'Nay, he will come ! TBE COTTAGE OF THE KINDLY LIGHT 161 To-morrow, or the next day, or the next The Kindly Light will bring him home again.' And so, whatever they answered, she would say — ' The Kindly Light will bring him home again ; ' Until, at last, thinking her dazed with grief. They gently turned and went. She had not wept. And ere that week was over, came the girl Her boy had loved. With tears and a white face And garbed in black she came; and when she neared The gate, his mother, proud and white with scorn, Bade her return and put away that garb Of mourning : and the girl saw, shrinking back. The boy's own mother wore no sign of grief, But all in white she stood ; and like a flash 162 THE COTTAGE OF THE KINDLY LIGHT The girl thought; ' God, she wears her wedding- dress ! Her grief has driven her mad !' And all that year The widow lit the little Kindly Light And placed it in the window. All that year She watched and waited for her boy's return At dawn from the high hill-top : all that year She went in white, though through the village streets Far, far below, the women went in black; For all had lost some man; but all that year She said to her friends and neighbours, ' He will come ; He is delayed; some ship has picked him up And borne him out to some far-distant land ! Why should I mourn the living?' And, at dusk, THE COTTAGE OF THE KINDLY LIGHT 163 As if it were indeed the Kindly Light Of faith and hope and love, she lit the lamp And placed it in the window. The year passed ; And on an eve in May her boy's love climbed The hill once more, and as the stars came out And the dusk gathered round her tenderly, And the last boats came stealing o'er the bar, And the immeasurable sea lay bright and bare And beautiful to all infinity Beneath the last faint colours of the sun And the increasing kisses of the moon, A hymn came on a waft of evening wind Along the valley from the village church And thrilled her with a new significance Unfelt before. It was the hymn they heard On that sweet night among the rose-lit fern — Sun of my soul; and, as she climbed the hill. She wondered, for she saw no Kindly Light 164 THE COTTAGE OF THE KINDLY LIGHT Glimmering from the window; and she thought, * Perhaps the madness leaves her/ There the hymn, Like one great upward flight of angels, rose All round her, mingling with the sea's own voice — ' Gome near and hless us when we wake, Ere through the world our way we take, — Till, in the ocean of Thy love, We lose ourselves in heaven above.' And when she passed the pink thrift by the gate. And the rough wallflowers by the whitewashed wall, And entered, she beheld the widow kneeling. In black, beside the unlit Kindly Light; And near her dead cold hand upon the floor A fallen taper, for with her last strength She had striven to light it and, so failing, died. THE THREE SHIPS (To an old tune.) I As I went up the mountain side, The sea below me glittered wide, And, Eastward, far away, I spied On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day, The three great ships that take the tide On Christmas Day in the morning. n Ye have heard the song, how these must ply From the harbours of home to the ports o' the sky! Do ye dream none knoweth the whither and why On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day, The three great ships go sailing by On Christmas Day in the morning? 165 166 THE THREE SHIPS III Yet, as I live, I never knew That ever a song could ring so true, Till I saw them break thro' a haze of blue On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; And the marvellous ancient flags they flew On Christmas Day in the morning ! IV From heights above the belfried town I saw the sails were patched and brown. But the flags were aflame with a great renown On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day, And on every mast was a golden crown On Christmas Day in the morning. v Most marvellous ancient ships were these! Were their prows a-plunge to the Chersonese For the pomp of Rome or the glory of Greece THE THBEE SHIPS 167 On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day? Were they out on a quest for the Golden Fleece On Christmas Day in the morning? VI And the sun and the wind they told me there How goodly a load the three ships bear, For the first is gold and the second is myrrh On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; And the third is frankincense most rare On Christmas Day in the morning. VII They have mixed their shrouds with the golden sky, They have faded away where the last dreams die . . . Ah yet, will ye watch, when the mist lifts high On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day? Will ye see three ships come sailing by On Christmas Day in the morning? SLUMBER-SONGS OF THE MADONNA PRELUDE Dante saw the great white Rose Half unclose; Dante saw the golden bees Gathering from its heart of gold Sweets untold, Love's most honeyed harmonies. Dante saw the threefold bow Strangely glow, Saw the Rainbow Vision rise, And the Flame that wore the crown Bending down O'er the flowers of Paradise. 168 SLUMBEB-SONGS OF THE MADONNA 169 Something yet remained, it seems ; In his dreams Dante missed — as angels may In their white and burning bhss — Some small kiss Mortals meet with every day. Italy in splendour faints 'Neath her saints ! 0, her great Madonnas, too, Faces calm as any moon Glows in June, Hooded with the night's deep blue ! What remains ? I pass and hear Everywhere, Ay, or see in silent eyes Just the song she still would sing Thus — a-swing O'er the cradle where He lies. 170 SLUMBER-SONGS OF THE MADONNA I Sleep, little baby, I love thee; Sleep, little king, I am bending above thee ! How should I know what to sing Here in my arms as I swing thee to sleep ? Hushaby low, Rockaby so. Kings may have wonderful jewels to bring. Mother has only a kiss for her king ! Why should my singing so make me to weep ? Only I know that I love thee, I love thee, Love thee, my little one, sleep. II Is it a dream? Ah yet, it seems Not the same as other dreams ! I can but think that angels sang. When thou wast born, in the starry sky. SLUMBEB-SONGS OF THE MADONNA 171 And that their golden harps out-rang While the silver clouds went by ! The morning sun shuts out the stars, Which are much loftier than the sun; But, could we burst our prison-bars And find the Light whence light begun, The dreams that heralded thy birth Were truer than the truths of earth; And, by that far immortal Gleam, Soul of my soul, I still would dream ! A ring of light was round thy head, The great-eyed oxen nigh thy bed Their cold and innocent noses bowed ! Their sweet breath rose like an incense cloud In the blurred and mystic lanthorn light ! About the middle of the night The black door blazed Uke some great star With a glory from afar. 172 SLUMBER-SONGS OF THE MADONNA Or like some mighty chrysolite Wherein an angel stood with white Blinding arrowy bladed wings Before the throne of the King of kings; And, through it, I could dimly see A great steed tethered to a tree. Then, with crimson gems aflame Through the door the three kings came. And the black Ethiop unrolled The richly broidered cloth of gold, And poured forth before thee there Gold and frankincense and myrrh ! Ill See, what a wonderful smile ! Does it mean That my little one knows of my love? Was it meant for an angel that passed unseen, And smiled at us both from above ? SLUMBER-SONGS OF THE MADONNA 173 Does it mean that he knows of the birds and the flowers That are waiting to sweeten his childhood's hours, And the tales I shall tell and the games he will play, And the songs we shall sing and the prayers we shall pray In his boyhood's May, He and I, one day ? IV All in the warm blue summer weather We shall laugh and love together: I shall watch my baby growing, I shall guide his feet, When the orange trees are blowing And the winds are heavy and sweet ! When the orange orchards whiten I shall see his great eyes brighten 174 SLUMBER-SOJ^GS OF THE MADONNA To watch the long-legged camels going Up the twisted street, When the orange trees are blowing And the winds are sweet. What does it mean? Indeed, it seems A dream! Yet not like other dreams! We shall walk in pleasant vales, Listening to the shepherd's song I shall tell him lovely tales All day long : He shall laugh while mother sings Tales of fishermen and kings. He shall see them come and go O'er the wistful sea, Where rosy oleanders blow Round blue Lake Galilee, Kings with fishers' ragged coats And silver nets across their boats, SLUMBEB-SONGS OF THE MADONNA 175 Dipping through the starry glow, With crowns for him and me! Ah, no; Crowns for him, not me! Rockaby so! Indeed, it seems A dream! yet not like other dreams! V Ah, see what a wonderful smile again ! Shall I hide it away in my heart, To remember one day in a world of pain When the years have torn us apart, Ijittle babe, When the years have torn us apart ? Sleep, my little one, sleep, Child with the wonderful eyes. Wild miraculous eyes. Deep as the skies are deep! What star-bright glory of tears 176 SLUMBEB-SONGS OF THE MADONNA Waits in you now for the years That shall bid you waken and weep? Ah, in that day, could I kiss you to sleep Then, little lips, little eyes, Little lips that are lovely and wise. Little lips that are dreadful and wise ! VI Clenched little hands like crumpled roses Dimpled and dear, Feet like flowers that the dawn uncloses, What do I fear? Little hands, will you ever be clenched in anguish? White little limbs, will you droop and languish? Nay, what do I hear? I hear a shouting, far away, You shall ride on a kingly palm-strewn way Some day ! But when you are crowned with a golden crown SLUMBER-SONGS OF THE MADONNA 177 And throned on a golden throne, You'll forget the manger of Bethlehem town And your mother that sits alone Wondering whether the mighty king Remembers a song she used to sing, Long ago, " Rockahy so, Kings may have wonderful jewels to bring, Mother has only a kiss for her king!^^ . . . Ah, see what a wonderful smile, once more ! He opens his great dark eyes ! Little child, little king, nay, hush, it is o'er, My fear of those deep twin skies, — Little child, You are all too dreadful and wise ! VII But now you are mine, all mine. And your feet can lie in my hand so small, 178 SLUMBER-SONGS OF THE MADONNA And your tiny hands in my heart can twine, And you cannot walk, so you never shall fall. Or be pierced by the thorns beside the door. Or the nails that lie upon Joseph's floor; Through sun and rain, through shadow and shine, You are mine, all mine ! THE CALL OF THE SPRING Come, choose your road and away, my lad, Come, choose your road and away! We'll out of the town by the road's bright crown As it dips to the dazzling day. It's a long white road for the weary ; But it rolls through the heart of the May. Though many a road would merrily ring To the tramp of your marching feet, All roads are one from the day that's done, And the miles are swift and sweet. And the graves of your friends are the mile-stones To the land where all roads meet. But the call that you hear this day, my lad, Is the Spring's old bugle of mirth 179 180 THE CALL OF THE SPRING When the year's green fire in a soul's desire Is brought like a rose to the birth; And knights ride out to adventure As the flowers break out of the earth. Over the sweet-smelling mountain-passes The clouds lie brightly curled; The wild-flowers cling to the crags and swing With cataract-dews impearled ; And the way, the way that you choose this day Is the way to the end of the world. It rolls from the golden long ago " To the land that we ne'er shall find; And it's uphill here, but it's downhill there, For the road is wise and kind. And all rough places and cheerless faces Will soon be left behind. Come, choose your road and away, away, We'll follow the gypsy sun; THE CALL OF THE SPRING 181 For it's soon, too soon to the end of the day, And the day is well begun; And the road rolls on through the heart of the May And there's never a May but one. There's a fir-wood here, and a dog-rose there, And a note of the mating dove; And a glimpse, maybe, of the warm blue sea, And the warm white clouds above; And warm to your breast in a tenderer nest Your sweetheart's little glove. There's not much better to win, my lad, There's not much better to win! You have lived, you have loved, you have fought, you have proved The worth of folly and sin; So now come out of the City's rout. Come out of the dust and the din. 182 THE CALL OF THE SPBING Come out, — a bundle and stick is all You'll need to carry along, If your heart can carry a kindly word, And your lips can carry a song; You may leave the lave to the keep o' the grave, If your lips can carry a song ! Come, choose your road and away, my lad, Come, choose your road and away! Well out of the town by the road's bright crovm, As it dips to the sapphire day ! All roads may meet at the world's end, But, hey for the heart of the May ! Come, choose your road and away, dear lad, Come choose your road and away. THE LIGHTS OF HOME I Pilot, how far from home ? — Not far, not far to-night, A flight of spray, a sea-bird's flight, A flight of tossing foam. And then the lights of home ! — II And, yet again, how far ? Seems you the way so brief ? Those lights beyond the roaring reef Were Ughts of moon and star. Far, far, none knows how far ! Ill Pilot, how far from home ? — The great stars pass away Before Him as a flight of spray, Moons as a flight of foam ! I see the lights of home. 183 CREDO I Thou that art throned so far above All earthly names, e'en those we deem Eternal, e'en that name of Love Which — as one speaketh in a dream — We whisper, ere the morning break And the hands yearn and the heart ache, n Thou that reignest, whom of old Men sought to appease by praise or prayer; The spirit^s little gifts of gold, The heart's faint frankincense and myrrh, Though we — the sons of deeper days — Can bring Thee neither prayer nor praise, 184 CBEDO 185 III We have not turned in doubt aside, Nor mocked with our ephemeral breath The httle creeds that man's poor pride Still fashions in these gulfs of death, The little creeds that only prove Thou art so far, so far above, rv So far beyond all Space and Time, So infinitely far that none, Though by ten thousand heavens he climb Higher, shall yet be higher by one; So far that — whelmed with light — we dare. Father, to know that Thou art here. By ALFRED NOYES Poems With an Introduction by Hamilton W. Mabie Cloth J i2mo, $ 1.25 net " Imagination, the capacity to perceive vividly and feel sincerely, and the gift of fit and beautiful expres- sion in verse-form — if these may be taken as the equipment of a poet, nearly all of this volume is poetry. And if to the sum of these be added the indescribable increment of charm which comes occa- sionally to the work of some poet, quite unearned by any of these catalogued qualities of his, you have a fair measure of Mr. Noyes at his best. . . . Two considerations render Mr. Noyes interesting above most poets : the wonderful degree in which the per- sonal charm illumines what he has already written, and the surprises which one feels may be in store in his future work. His feelings have already so much variety and so much apparent sincerity that it is im- possible to tell in what direction his genius will de- velop. In whatever style he writes, — the mystical, the historical-dramatic, the impassioned description of natural beauty, the ballad, the love lyric, — he has the peculiarity of seeming in each style to have found the truest expression of himself." — Louisville Courier- JournaL PUBLISHED BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 64-66 FIFTH AVENUE. NEW YORK Mr. ALFRED NOYES'S POEMS The Flower of Old Japan Contains also " Forest of Wild Thyme," of which the Argonaut says : " It is not only an exquisite piece of work, but it is a psychologi- cal analysis of the child-mind so daring and yet so convincing as to lift it to the plane where the masterpieces of literature dwell. It can be read with delight by a child of ten. It is put into the mouth of a child of about that age, but the adult must be strangely constituted who can remain indifferent to its haunting spell or who can resist the fascination which lies in its every page." "We are reminded both of Stevenson — to whom Mr. Noyes pays a glowing tribute — and Lewis Carroll; yet there is no imitation; Mr. Noyes has a distinct poetic style of his own. ... In a matter-of-fact age such verse as this is an oasis in a desert land. " — Providence Journal. " It has seemed to us from the first that Noyes has been one of the most hope-inspiring figures in our latter-day poetry. He, almost alone, of the younger men seems to have the true singing voice, the gift of uttering in authentic lyric cry some fresh, unspoiled emotion." — Post. Mr. Richard Le Gallienne in the North A?nerican Review pointed out recently " their spontaneous power and freshness, their imaginative vision, their lyrical magic." He adds : " Mr. Noyes is surprisingly various. I have seldom read one book, particularly by so young a writer, in which so many different things are done, and all done so well. . . . But that for which one is most grateful to Mr. Noyes in his strong and brilliant treatment of all his rich material, is the gift by which, in my opinion, he stands alone anaong the younger poets of the day, his lyrical gift." Clothy i2mo, $ I.2S net PUBLISHED BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 64-66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YOEK Lyrical and Dramatic Poems By W. B. YEATS In two volumes; each, $ i.y^ net The two-volume edition of the Irish poet's works includes everything he has done in verse up to the present time. The first volume contains his lyrics ; the second includes all of his five dramas in verse : "The Countess Cathleen," "The Land of Heart's Desire," "The King's Threshold," "On Baile's Strand," and "The Shadowy Waters." William Butler Yeats stands among the few men to be reckoned with in modern poetry, especially of a dramatic character. The JVew York Sun, for example, refers to him as "an important factor in English literature," and con- tinues : — "* Cathleen ni Hoolihan' is a perfect piece of artistic work, poetic and wonderfully dramatic to read, and, we should imagine, far more dramatic in the acting. Maeter- linck has never done anything so true or effective as this short prose drama of Mr. Yeats's. There is not a super- fluous word in the play and no word that does not tell. It must be dangerous to represent it in Ireland, for it is an Irish Marseillaise. ... In * The Hour Glass ' a noble and poetic idea is carried out effectively, while * A Pot of Broth ' is merely a dramatized humorous anecdote. But ' Cathleen ni HooHhan ' stirs the blood, and in itself establishes Mr. Yeats's reputation for good." The Neiv York Herald remarks : — " Mr. Yeats is probably the most important as well as the most widely known of the men concerned directly in the so- called Celtic renaissance. More than this, he stands among the few men to be reckoned with in modern poetry." PUBLISHED BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 64-66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YOEK A History of English Poetry By W. J. CouRTHOPE, C.B., D.Litt., LL.D. Late Professor of Poetry in the University of Oxford Cloth, 8vo, $ j.2j net per volume VOLUME L The Middle Ages — Influence of the Ro- man Empire — The Encyclopaedic Education of the Church — The Feudal System. VOLUME IL The Renaissance and the Reformation— Influence of the Court and the Universities. VOLUME III. English Poetry in the Seventeenth Cen- tury — Decadent Influence of the Feudal Monarchy — Growth of the National Genius. VOLUME IV. Development and Decline of the Poetic Drama — Influence of the Court and the People. VOLUME V. The Constitutional Compromise of the Eighteenth Century — Effects of the Classical Renais- sance — Its Zenith and Decline — The Early Romantic Renaissance. "It is his privilege to have made a contribution of great value and signal importance to the history of English Litera- ture." —/•«// Mall Gazette. PUBLISHED BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 64-66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YOEK UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY BERKELEY Return to desk from which borrowed. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 6Feb52.. 28Jan5 2LLI r- LD 21-95m-ll,'50 (2877816)476 J-