Methuen's Shilling Library 
 
 A SERIES of general literature issued in fcap. 8vo. at is. net, 
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 Oscar Wilde Arthur Ransome 
 
 Charles Dickens G. K. Chesterton 
 
 A Little of Everything E. V. Lucas 
 
 Harvest Home E. v. Lucas 
 
 Chitral Sir G. & Robertson 
 
 Man and the Universe Sir Oliver Lodge 
 
 Thomas Henry Huxley p. Chalmers Mitchell 
 
 Charmides and Other Poems Oscar Wilde 
 
 Intentions Oscar Wilde 
 
 An Ideal Husband Oscar Wilde 
 
 Lady Windermere's Fan Oscar Wilde 
 
 De Profundis Oscar Wilde 
 
 Selected Poems Oscar Wilde 
 
 Lord Arthur Savile's Crime Oscar Wilde 
 
 The Parish Clerk p. H. Ditchfield 
 
 Two Admirals Admiral John Moresby 
 
 Hills and the Sea H. Belloc 
 
 Old Country Life S. Baring-Gould 
 
 The Vicar of Morwenstow s. Baring-Gould 
 
 John Boyes, King of the Wa-Kikuyu John Boyes 
 
 Jimmy Glover His Book James M. Glover 
 
 Vailima Letters Robert Louis Stevenson 
 
 Tennyson A. C. Benson 
 
 The Blue Bird Maurice Maeterlinck 
 
 Mary Magdalene Maurice Maeterlinck 
 
 Sevastopol and other Stories Leo Tolstoy 
 
 *The Life of Robert Louis Stevenson 
 
 Graham Balfour 
 
 *The Life of John Ruskin w. G. Collingwood 
 
 The Condition of England c. F. G. Masterman, M.P. 
 Letters from a Self-Made Mercliant to his Son 
 
 George Horace Lorimer 
 
 The Lore of the Honey Bee Tickner Edwardes 
 
 Under Five Reigns Lady Dorothy Nevill 
 
 *From Midshipman to Field Marshal 
 
 Sir Evelyn Wood 
 * Slightly abridged. 
 
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 Marie Corelli 
 
 Marie Corelli 
 
 Marie Corelli 
 
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 C. N. and A. M. Williamson 
 
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 A SERIES of popular novels by distinguished authors at is. net. 
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 published have been a great success. 
 
 The following are either ready or tn th* press : 
 Boy 
 
 The Mighty Atom 
 Jane 
 
 Teresa of Watling Street 
 Anna of the Five Towns 
 The Search Party 
 Spanish Gold 
 The Botor Chaperon 
 The Demon 
 Lady Betty Across the Water 
 
 C. N. and A. M. Williamson 
 The Gate of The Desert 
 The Long Road 
 Fire in Stubble 
 The Unofficial Honeymoon 
 Joseph in Jeopardy 
 Said the Fisherman 
 Hill Rise 
 
 The Guarded Flame 
 Light Freights 
 The Tyrant 
 The Secret Woman 
 Dan Russel the Fox 
 Splendid Brother 
 The Severins 
 Under the Red Robe 
 Mirage 
 
 Virginia Perfect 
 Barbary Sheep 
 The Woman with the Fan 
 The Golden Centipede 
 Round the Red Lamp 
 The Halo 
 
 Tales of Mean Streets 
 The Missing Delora 
 The Charm 
 
 John Oxen ham 
 John Ozenham 
 Baroness Orczy 
 DoU Wyllarde 
 Frank Danby 
 Marmaduke Pickthall 
 W. B. Maxwell 
 W. B. Maxwell 
 W. W. Jacobs 
 Mrs. Henry de la Pasture 
 Eden Phillpotts 
 
 E. CE. Somerville and Martin Ross 
 W. Pett Ridge 
 Mrs A. Sidgwick 
 Stanley VVeyiaan 
 B. Temple Thurston 
 Peggy Webling 
 Robert Hichens 
 Robert Hichens 
 Louise Gerard 
 Sir A. Conan Doyle 
 Baroness von Hutten 
 Arthur Morrison 
 E. Phillips Oppenheim 
 Alice Perrin 
 
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 CHARMIDES 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BV 
 
 OSCAR WILDE 
 
 METHUEN & CO. LTD. 
 
 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. 
 
 LONDON
 
 This Volume was firti publitkfd 
 
 Wilde's Poems, a selection of which is given in this volume, were first 
 published in volume form in 1881, and were reprinted four times before 
 tneemlof 1882. A new Edition irilh additional poems, including Ravenna, 
 The Sphinx, and The Ballad of Reading Gaol, was first published (limited 
 issues on hand-made paper and Japanese vellum) by Methuen 6- Co. in 
 March, 1908. A further Edition (making the seventh) with some amis- 
 sions from the issue of 1908, but including two new poems, was published 
 in September, 1909. Eighth Edition, November, 1909. Ninth Edition, 
 December, 1909. Tenth Edition, December, 1910. Eleventh Edition, 
 December, 1911. Twelfth Edition, May, 1913. 
 
 A further selection of the poems, including The Ballad of Reading Gaol, 
 n published uniform with this volume.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 CHARMIDES 9 
 
 REQUIESCAT 67 
 
 SAN MINIATO -69 
 
 ROME UNVISITED - 71 
 
 HUMANITAD 77 
 
 LOUIS NAPOLEON 114 
 
 ENDYMION - 116 
 
 LE JARDIN - - 119 
 
 LA MEB - - 120 
 
 LE PANNE AU - - - 121 
 
 LES BALLONS .... - 124 
 
 CANZONET - - 126 
 
 LE JARDIN DBS TUILERIES ... 129 
 
 PAN : DOUBLE V1LLANELLE - - -131 
 
 IN THE FOREST 135 
 
 SYMPHONY IN YELLOW -136 
 
 2047082
 
 vi CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 SONNETS : 
 
 HELAS ! . - - 139 
 
 TO MILTON 140 
 
 ON THE MASSACRE OP THE CHRISTIANS IN 
 
 BULGARIA 141 
 
 HOLY WEEK AT GENOA . 142 
 
 URBS SACRA .STERNA - ... J43 
 
 E TENEBRIS - ... J44 
 
 AT VERONA - ... J45 
 
 ON THE SALE BY AUCTION OP KEATS' 
 
 LOVE LETTERS .... J4fi 
 
 THE NEW REMORSE .... 4
 
 CHARMIDES
 
 CHARMIDES 
 
 I IE was a Grecian lad, who coming home 
 With pulpy figs and wine from Sicily 
 
 Stood at his galley's prow, and let the foam 
 Blow through his crisp brown curls uncon- 
 sciously, 
 
 And holding wave and wind in boy's despite 
 
 Peered from his dripping seat across the wet and 
 stormy night. 
 
 Till with the dawn he saw a burnished spear 
 Like a thin thread of gold against the sky, 
 
 And hoisted sail, and strained the creaking gear, 
 And bade the pilot head her lustily 
 
 Against the nor'west gale, and all day long 
 
 Held on his way, and marked the rowers' time 
 with measured song.
 
 10 POEMS 
 
 And when the faint Corinthian hills were red 
 
 Dropped anchor in a little sandy bay, 
 And with fresh boughs of olive crowned his head. 
 And brushed from cheek and throat the hoary 
 
 spray, 
 And washed his limbs with oil, and from the 
 
 hold 
 
 Brought out his linen tunic and his sandals 
 brazen-soled, 
 
 And a rich robe stained with the fishers' juice 
 Which of some swarthy trader he had bought 
 
 Upon the sunny quay at Syracuse, 
 And was with Tyrian broideries inwrought, 
 
 And by the questioning merchants made his way 
 
 Up through the soft and silver woods, and when 
 the labouring day
 
 CHARMIDES 11 
 
 Had spun its tangled web of crimson cloud, 
 
 Clomb the high hill, and with swift silent feet 
 Crept to the fane unnoticed by the crowd 
 
 Of busy priests, and from some dark retreat 
 Watched the young swains his frolic playmates 
 
 bring 
 
 The firstling of their little flock, and the shy 
 shepherd fling 
 
 The crackling salt upon the flame, or hang 
 
 His studded crook against the temple wall 
 To Her who keeps away the ravenous fang 
 
 Of the base wolf from homestead and from 
 
 stall ; 
 
 And then the clear- voiced maidens 'gan to sing, 
 And to the altar each man brought some goodly 
 offering,
 
 12 POEMS 
 
 A beechen cup brimming with milky foam, 
 
 A fair cloth wrought with cunning imagery 
 Of hounds in chase, a waxen honey-comb 
 Dripping with oozy gold which scarce the 
 
 bee 
 
 Had ceased from building, a black skin of oil 
 Meet for the wrestlers, a great boar the fierce and 
 white-tusked spoil 
 
 Stolen from Artemis that jealous maid 
 To please Athena, and the dappled hide 
 
 Of a tall stag who in some mountain glade 
 Had met the shaft ; and then the herald cried, 
 
 And from the pillared precinct one by one 
 
 Went the glad Greeks well pleased that they their 
 simple vows had done.
 
 CHARMIDES 13 
 
 And the old priest put out the waning fires 
 Save that one lamp whose restless ruby glowed 
 
 For ever in the cell, and the shrill lyres 
 
 Came fainter on the wind, as down the road 
 
 In joyous dance these country folk did pass, 
 
 And with stout hands the warder closed the gates 
 of polished brass. 
 
 Long time he lay and hardly dared to breathe, 
 
 And heard the cadenced drip of spilt-out wine, 
 And the rose-petals falling from the wreath 
 
 As the night breezes wandered through the 
 
 shrine, 
 
 And seemed to be in some entranced swoon 
 Till through the open roof above the full and 
 brimming moon
 
 14 POEMS 
 
 Flooded with sheeny waves the marble floor, 
 When from his nook up leapt the venturous 
 
 lad, 
 And flinging wide the cedar-carven door 
 
 Beheld an awful image saffron-clad 
 And armed for battle ! the gaunt Griffin glared 
 From the huge helm, and the long lance of wreck 
 and ruin flared 
 
 Like a red rod of flame, stony and steeled 
 The Gorgon's head its leaden eyeballs rolled, 
 
 And writhed its snaky horrors through the shield, 
 And gaped aghast with bloodless lips and cold 
 
 In passion impotent, while with blind gaze 
 
 The blinking owl between the feet hooted in shrill 
 amaze.
 
 CHARMIDES 15 
 
 The lonely fisher as he trimmed his lamp 
 
 Far out at sea off Sunium, or cast 
 The net for tunnies, heard a brazen tramp 
 
 Of horses smite the waves, and a wild blast 
 Divide the folded curtains of the night, 
 And knelt upon the little poop, and prayed in 
 holy fright. 
 
 And guilty lovers in their venery 
 
 Forgat a little while their stolen sweets, 
 Deeming they heard dread Dian's bitter cry ; 
 And the grim watchmen on their lofty 
 
 seats 
 
 Ran to their shields in haste precipitate, 
 Or strained black-bearded throats across the dusky 
 parapet.
 
 16 POEMS 
 
 For round the temple rolled the clang of arms, 
 And the twelve Gods leapt up in marble 
 
 fear, 
 And the air quaked with dissonant alarums 
 
 Till huge Poseidon shook his mighty spear, 
 And on the frieze the prancing horses neighed, 
 And the low tread of hurrying feet rang from the 
 cavalcade. 
 
 Ready for death with parted lips he stood, 
 And well content at such a price to see 
 
 That calm wide brow, that terrible maidenhood, 
 The marvel of that pitiless chastity, 
 
 Ah ! well content indeed, for never wight 
 
 Since Troy's young shepherd prince had seen so 
 wonderful a sight.
 
 CHARMIDES 17 
 
 Ready for death lie stood, but lo ! the air 
 
 Grew silent, and the horses ceased to neigh, 
 And ofi his brow he tossed the clustering 
 
 hair, 
 
 And from his limbs he threw the cloak away ; 
 For whom would not such love make desperate ? 
 And nigher came, and touched her throat, and 
 with hands violate 
 
 Undid the cuirass, and the crocus gown, 
 And bared the breasts of polished ivory, 
 
 Till from the waist the peplos falling down 
 Left visible the secret mystery 
 
 Which to no lover will Athena show, 
 
 The grand cool flanks, the crescent thighs, the 
 bossv hilia of snow.
 
 18 POEMS 
 
 Those who have never known a lover's sin 
 
 Let them not read my ditty, it will be 
 To their dull ears so musicless and thin 
 
 That they will have no joy of it, but ye 
 To whose wan cheeks now creeps the lingering 
 
 smile, 
 
 Ye who have learned who Eros is, listen yet 
 awhile. 
 
 A little space he let his greedy eyes 
 
 Eest on the burnished image, till mere sight 
 
 Half swooned for surfeit of such luxuries, 
 And then his lips in hungering delight 
 
 Fed on her lips, and round the towered neck 
 
 He flung his arms, nor cared at all his passion's 
 will to check.
 
 CHARMIDES 19 
 
 Never I ween did lover hold such tryst, 
 
 For all night long he murmured honeyed word, 
 
 And saw her sweet unravished limbs, and kissed 
 Her pale and argent body undisturbed, 
 
 And paddled with the polished throat, and pressed 
 
 His hot and beating heart upon her chill and icy 
 breast. 
 
 It was as if Numidian javelins 
 Pierced through and through his wild and 
 
 whirling brain, 
 And his nerves thrilled like throbbing violins 
 
 In exquisite pulsation, and the pain 
 Was such sweet anguish that he never drew 
 His lips from hers till overhead the lark of warn- 
 ing flew.
 
 20 POEMS 
 
 They who have never seen the daylight peer 
 Into a darkened room, and drawn the curtain, 
 
 And with dull eyes and wearied from some dear 
 And worshipped body risen, they for certain 
 
 Will never know of what I try to sing, 
 
 How long the last kiss was, how fond and late 
 his lingering. 
 
 The moon was girdled with a crystal rim, 
 The sign which shipmen say is ominous 
 
 Of wrath in heaven, the wan stars were dim, 
 And the low lightening east was tremulous 
 
 With the faint fluttering wings of flying dawn, 
 
 Ere from the silent sombre shrine his lover had 
 withdrawn.
 
 CHARMIDES 21 
 
 Down the steep rock with hurried feet and fast 
 Clomb the brave lad, and reached the cave of 
 
 Pan, 
 And heard the goat-foot snoring as he passed, 
 
 And leapt upon a grassy knoll and ran 
 Like a young fawn unto an olive wood 
 Which in a shady valley by the well-built city 
 stood; 
 
 And sought a little stream, which well he knew, 
 For oftentimes with boyish careless shout 
 
 The green and crested grebe he would pursue, 
 Or snare in woven net the silver trout, 
 
 And down amid the startled reeds he lay 
 
 Panting in breathless sweet affright, and waited 
 for the day.
 
 22 POEMS 
 
 On the green bank he lay, and let one hand 
 Dip in the cool dark eddies listlessly, 
 
 And soon the breath of morning came and fanned 
 His hot flushed cheeks, or lifted wantonly 
 
 The tangled curls from off his forehead, while 
 
 He on the running water gazed with strange and 
 secret smile. 
 
 And soon the shepherd in rough woollen cloak 
 With his long crook undid the wattled cotes, 
 And from the stack a thin blue wreath of smoke 
 Curled through the air across the ripening 
 
 oats, 
 
 And on the hill the yellow house-dog bayed 
 As through the crisp and rustling fern the heavy 
 cattle strayed.
 
 CHARMIDES 23 
 
 And when the light- foot mower went afield 
 Across the meadows laced with threaded 
 
 dew, 
 And the sheep bleated on the misty weald, 
 
 And from its nest the waking corncrake flew, 
 Some woodmen saw him lying by the stream 
 And marvelled much that any lad so beautiful 
 could seem, 
 
 Nor deemed him born of mortals, and one said, 
 ' It is young Hylas, that false runaway 
 
 Who with a Naiad now would make his bed 
 Forgetting Herakles,' but others, * Nay, 
 
 It is Narcissus, his own paramour, 
 
 Those are the fond and crimson lips no woman 
 can allure.'
 
 24 POEMS 
 
 And when they nearer came a third one cried, 
 
 It is young Dionysos who has hid 
 His spear and fawnskin by the river side 
 
 Weary of hunting with the Bassarid, 
 And wise indeed were we away to fly : 
 They live not long who on the gods immortal 
 come to spy.' 
 
 So turned they back, and feared to look behind, 
 And told the timid swain how they had seen 
 
 Amid the reeds some woodland god reclined, 
 And no man dared to cross the open green, 
 
 And on that day no olive-tree was slain, 
 
 Nor rushes cut, but all deserted was the fail- 
 domain,
 
 CHARMIDES 25 
 
 Save when the neat-herd's lad, his empty pail 
 Well slung upon his back, with leap and bound 
 
 Raced on the other side, and stopped to hail, 
 Hoping that he some comrade new had found, 
 
 And gat no answer, and then half afraid 
 
 Passed on his simple way, or down the still and 
 silent glade 
 
 A little girl ran laughing from the farm, 
 Not thinking of love's secret mysteries, 
 
 And when she saw the white and gleaming arm 
 And all his manlihood, with longing eyes 
 
 Whose passion mocked her sweet virginity 
 
 Watched him awhile, and then stole back sadly 
 and wearily.
 
 26 POEMS 
 
 Far off he heard the city's hum and noise, 
 And now and then the shriller laughter where 
 
 The passionate purity of brown-limbed boys 
 Wrestled or raced in the clear healthful air, 
 
 And now and then a little tinkling bell 
 
 As the shorn wether led the sheep down to the 
 mossy well. 
 
 Through the grey willows danced the fretful gnat, 
 
 The grasshopper chirped idly from the tree, 
 In sleek and oily coat the water-rat 
 
 Breasting the little ripples manfully 
 Made for the wild-duck's nest, from bough to 
 
 bough 
 
 Hopped the shy finch, and the huge tortoise crept 
 across the slough.
 
 CHARMIDES 27 
 
 On the faint wind floated the silky seeds 
 As the bright scythe swept through the waving 
 
 grass, 
 The ouzel-cock splashed circles in the reeds 
 
 And flecked with silver whorls the forest's glass, 
 Which scarce had caught again its imagery 
 Ere from its bed the dusky tench leapt at the 
 dragon-fly. 
 
 But little care had he for any thing 
 Though up and down the beech the squirrel 
 
 played, 
 
 And from the copse the linnet 'gan to sing 
 To its brown mate its sweetest serenade ; 
 Ah ! little care indeed, for he had seen 
 The breasts of Pallas and the naked wonder of 
 the Queen.
 
 28 POEMS 
 
 But when the herdsman called his straggling goats 
 
 With whistling pipe across the rocky road, 
 And the shard-beetle with its trumpet- notes 
 Boomed through the darkening woods, and 
 
 seemed to bode 
 
 Of coming storm, and the belated crane 
 Passed homeward like a shadow, and the dull big 
 drops of rain 
 
 Fell on the pattering fig-leaves, up he rose, 
 And from the gloomy forest went his way 
 
 Past sombre homestead and wet orchard-close, 
 And came at last unto a little quay, 
 
 And called his mates aboard, and took his seat 
 
 On the high poop, and pushed from land, and 
 loosed the dripping sheet,
 
 CHARMIDES 29 
 
 And steered across the bay, and when nine suns 
 Passed down the long and laddered way of gold, 
 
 And nine pale moons had breathed their orisons 
 To the chaste stars their confessors, or told 
 
 Their dearest secret to the downy moth 
 
 That will not fly at noonday, through the foam 
 and surging froth 
 
 Came a great owl with yellow sulphurous eyes 
 
 And lit upon the ship, whose timbers creaked 
 As though the lading of three argosies 
 Were in the hold, and flapped its wings and 
 
 shrieked, 
 
 And darkness straightway stole across the deep, 
 Sheathed was Orion's sword, dread Mars himself 
 fled down the steep,
 
 30 POEMS 
 
 And the moon hid behind a tawny mask 
 Of drifting cloud, and from the ocean's marge 
 
 Rose the red plume, the huge and horned casque, 
 The seven-cubit spear, the brazen targe ! 
 
 And clad in bright and burnished panoply 
 
 Athena strode across the stretch of sick and 
 shivering sea ! 
 
 To the dull sailors' sight her loosened locks 
 Seemed like the jagged storm-rack, and her feet 
 
 Only the spume that floats on hidden rocks, 
 And, marking how the rising waters beat 
 
 Against the rolling ship, the pilot cried 
 
 To the young helmsman at the stern to luff to 
 windward sid
 
 CHARMIDES 81 
 
 But he, the overbold adulterer, 
 
 A dear profaner of great mysteries, 
 An ardent amorous idolater, 
 
 When he beheld those grand relentless eyes 
 Laughed loud for joy, and crying out ' I come ' 
 Leapt from the lofty poop into the chill and 
 churning foam. 
 
 Then fell from the high heaven one bright star, 
 
 One dancer left the circling galaxy, 
 And back to Athens on her clattering car 
 
 In all the pride of venged divinity 
 Pale Pallas swept with shrill and steely clank, 
 And a few gurgling bubbles rose where her boy 
 lover sank.
 
 32 POEMS 
 
 And the mast shuddered as the gaunt owl flew 
 With mocking hoots after the wrathful Queen, 
 
 And the old pilot bade the trembling crew 
 Hoist the big sail, and told how he had seen 
 
 Close to the stern a dim and giant form, 
 
 And like a dipping swallow the stout ship dashed 
 through the storm. 
 
 And no man dared to speak of Charmidea 
 
 Deeming that he some evil thing had wrought, 
 And when they reached the strait Symplegades 
 They beached their galley on the shore, and 
 
 sought 
 
 The toll-gate of the city hastily, 
 And in the market showed their brown and pic- 
 tured pottery.
 
 CHARMIDES 33 
 
 ii 
 
 1DUT some good Triton-god had ruth, and 
 
 bare 
 
 The boy's drowned body back to Grecian land, 
 And mermaids combed his dank and dripping hair 
 And smoothed his brow, and loosed his clench- 
 ing hand ; 
 
 Some brought sweet spices from far Araby, 
 And others bade the halcyon sing her softest 
 lullaby. 
 
 And when he neared his old Athenian home, 
 
 A mighty billow rose up suddenly 
 Upon whose oily back the clotted foam 
 
 Lay diapered in some strange fantasy, 
 And clasping him unto its glassy breast 
 Swept landward, like a white-maned steed upon 
 a venturous quest !
 
 34 POEMS 
 
 Now where Colonos leans unto the sea 
 
 There lies a long and level stretch of lawn ; 
 
 The rabbit knows it, and the mountain bee 
 For it deserts Hymettus, and the Faun 
 
 Is not afraid, for never through the day 
 
 Conies a cry ruder than the shout of shepherd 
 lads at play. 
 
 But often from the thorny labyrinth 
 And tangled branches of the circling wood 
 
 The stealthy hunter sees young Hyacinth 
 Hurling the polished disk, and draws his hood 
 
 Over his guilty gaze, and creeps away, 
 
 Nor dares to wind his horn, or else at the first 
 break of day
 
 CHARMIDES 35 
 
 The Dryads come and throw the leathern ball 
 Along the reedy shore, and circumvent 
 
 Some goat-eared Pan to be their seneschal 
 For fear of bold Poseidon's ravishment, 
 
 And loose their girdles, with shy timorous eyes, 
 
 Lest from the surf his azure arms and purple 
 beard should rise. 
 
 On this side and on that a rocky cave, 
 
 Hung with the yellow-belled laburnum, stands 
 Smooth is the beach, save where some ebbing 
 
 wave 
 
 Leaves its faint outline etched upon the sands, 
 As though it feared to be too soon forgot 
 By the green rush, its playfellow, and yet, it is 
 a spot
 
 36 POEMS 
 
 So small, that the inconstant butterfly 
 Could steal the hoarded money from each 
 
 flower 
 Ere it was noon, and still not satisfy 
 
 Its over-greedy love, within an hour 
 A sailor boy, were he but rude enow 
 To land and pluck a garland for his galley's painted 
 prow, 
 
 Would almost leave the little meadow bare, 
 For it knows nothing of great pageantry, 
 
 Only a few narcissi here and there 
 Stand separate in sweet austerity, 
 
 Dotting the unmown grass with silver stars, 
 
 And here and there a daffodil waves tiny 
 scimitars.
 
 CHARMEDES 37 
 
 Hither the billow brought him, and was glad 
 Of such dear servitude, and where the land 
 
 Was virgin of all waters laid the lad 
 Upon the golden margent of the strand, 
 
 And like a lingering lover oft returned 
 
 To kiss those pallid limbs which once with intense 
 fire burned, 
 
 Ere the wet seas had quenched that holocaust, 
 
 That self-fed flame, that passionate lustihead, 
 Ere grisly death with chill and nipping frost 
 Had withered up those lilies white and red 
 Which, while the boy would through the forest 
 
 range, 
 
 Answered each other in a sweet antiphonal counter- 
 change.
 
 38 POEMS 
 
 And when at dawn the wood-nymphs, hand-in- 
 hand, 
 
 Threaded the bosky dell, their satyr spied 
 The boy's pale body stretched upon the sand, 
 And feared Poseidon's treachery, and cried, 
 And like bright sunbeams flitting through a glade 
 Each startled Dryad sought some safe and leafy 
 ambuscade. 
 
 Save one white girl, who deemed it would not be 
 So dread a thing to feel a sea-god's arms 
 
 Crushing her breasts in amorous tyranny, 
 And longed to listen to those subtle charms 
 
 Insidious lovers weave when they would win 
 
 Some fenced fortress, and stole back again, nor 
 thought it sin
 
 CHARMIDES 39 
 
 To yield her treasure unto one so fair, 
 
 And lay beside him, thirsty with love's drouth, 
 Called him soft names, played with his tangled 
 
 hair, 
 
 And with hot lips made havoc of his mouth 
 Afraid he might not wake, and then afraid 
 Lest he might wake too soon, fled back, and then, 
 fond renegade, 
 
 Returned to fresh assault, and all day long 
 Sat at his side, and laughed at her new toy, 
 
 And held his hand, and sang her sweetest song, 
 Then frowned to see how froward was the boy 
 
 t 
 
 Who would not with her maidenhood entwine, 
 Nor knew that three days since his eyes had 
 looked on Proserpine ;
 
 40 POEMS 
 
 Nor knew what sacrilege his lips had done, 
 But said, ' He will awake, I know him well, 
 
 He will awake at evening when the sun 
 Hangs his red shield on Corinth's citadel ; 
 
 This sleep is but a cruel treachery 
 
 To make me love him more, and in some cavern 
 of the sea 
 
 Deeper than ever falls the fisher's line 
 Already a huge Triton blows his horn, 
 
 And weaves a garland from the crystalline 
 And drifting ocean-tendrils to adorn 
 
 The emerald pillars of our bridal bed, 
 
 For sphered in foaming silver, and with coral 
 crowned head,
 
 CHARMIDES 41 
 
 We two will sit upon a throne of pearl, 
 And a blue wave will be our canopy, 
 
 And at our feet the water- snakes will curl 
 In all their amethystine panoply 
 
 Of diamonded mail, and we will mark 
 
 The mullets swimming by the mast of some storm- 
 foundered bark, 
 
 yp.Tmi1imi-finnp.fi with eyes of bossy gold 
 Like flakes of crimson light, and the great 
 
 deep 
 His glassy-portaled chamber will unfold, 
 
 And we will see the painted dolphins sleep 
 Cradled by murmuring halcyons on the rocks 
 Where Proteus in quaint suit of green pastures 
 his monstrous flocks.
 
 42 POEMS 
 
 And tremulous opal-hued anemones 
 
 Will wave their purple fringes where we tread 
 
 Upon the mirrored floor, and argosies 
 
 Of fishes flecked with tawny scales will thread 
 
 The drifting cordage of the shattered wreck, 
 
 And honey-coloured amber beads our twining 
 limbs will deck.' 
 
 But when that baffled Lord of War the Sun 
 With gaudy pennon flying passed away 
 
 Into his brazen House, and one by one 
 The little yellow stars began to stray 
 
 Across the field of heaven, ah ! then indeed 
 
 She feared his lips upon her lips would never care 
 to feed,
 
 CHARMIDES 43 
 
 And cried, ' Awake, already the pale moon 
 Washes the trees with silver, and the wave 
 
 Creeps grey and chilly up this sandy dune, 
 The croaking frogs are out, and from the cave 
 
 The nightjar shrieks, the fluttering bats repass, 
 
 And the brown stoat with hollow flanks creeps 
 through the dusky grass. 
 
 Nay, though thou art a god, be not so coy, 
 For in yon stream there is a little reed 
 
 That often whispers how a lovely boy 
 Lay with her once upon a grassy mead, 
 
 Who when his cruel pleasure he had done 
 
 Spread wings of rustling gold and soared aloft into 
 the sun.
 
 44 POEMS 
 
 Be not so coy, the laurel trembles still 
 With great Apollo's kisses, and the fir 
 
 Whose clustering sisters fringe the seaward hill 
 Hath many a tale of that bold ravisher 
 
 Whom men call Boreas, and I have seen 
 
 The mocking eyes of Hermes through the poplar's 
 silvery sheen. 
 
 Even the jealous Naiads call me fair, 
 
 And every morn a young and ruddy swain 
 
 Woos me with apples and with locks of hair, 
 And seeks to soothe my virginal disdain 
 
 By all the gifts the gentle wood-nymphs love ; 
 
 But yesterday he brought to me an iris-plumaged 
 dove
 
 CHARMIDES 45 
 
 With little crimson feet, which with its store 
 
 Of seven spotted eggs the cruel lad 
 Had stolen from the lofty sycamore 
 
 At daybreak, when her amorous comrade had 
 Flown off in search of berried juniper 
 Which most they love ; the fretful wasp, that 
 earliest vintager 
 
 Of the blue grapes, hath not persistency 
 So constant as this simple shepherd-boy 
 
 For my poor lips, his joyous purity 
 
 And laughing sunny eyes might well decoy 
 
 A Dryad from her oath to Artemis ; 
 
 For very beautiful is he, his mouth was made to 
 kiss;
 
 46 POEMS 
 
 His argent forehead, like a rising moon 
 Over the dusky hills of meeting brows, 
 
 Is crescent shaped, the hot and Tyrian noon 
 Leads from the myrtle-grove no goodlier spouse 
 
 For Cytheraea, the first silky down 
 
 Fringes his blushing cheeks, and his young limbs 
 are strong and brown ; 
 
 And he is rich, and fat and fleecy herds 
 Of bleating sheep upon his meadows lie, 
 
 And many an earthen bowl of yellow curds 
 Is in his homestead for the thievish fly 
 
 To swim and drown in, the pink clover mead 
 
 Keeps its sweet store for him, and he can pipe 
 on oaten reed.
 
 CHARMIDES 47 
 
 And yet I love him not ; it was for thee 
 
 I kept my love ; I knew that thou would' st 
 
 come 
 To rid me of this pallid chastity, 
 
 Thou fairest flower of the flowerless foam 
 Of all the wide ^gean, brightest star 
 Of ocean's azure heavens where the mirrored 
 planets are ! 
 
 I knew that thou would' st come, for when at first 
 The dry wood burgeoned, and the sap of spring 
 
 Swelled in my green and tender bark or burst 
 To myriad multitudinous blossoming 
 
 Which mocked the midnight with its mimic moons 
 
 That did not dread the dawn, and first the 
 thrushes' rapturous tunes
 
 48 POEMS 
 
 Startled the squirrel from its granary, 
 
 And cuckoo flowers fringed the narrow lane, 
 
 Through my young leaves a sensuous ecstasy 
 Crept like new wine, and every mossy vein 
 
 Throbbed with the fitful pulse of amorous blood, 
 
 And the wild winds of passion shook my slim 
 stem's maidenhood. 
 
 The trooping fawns at evening came and laid 
 
 Their cool black noses on my lowest boughs, 
 And on my topmost branch the blackbird made 
 
 A little nest of grasses for his spouse, 
 And now and then a twittering wren would 
 
 light 
 
 On a thin twig which hardly bare the weight of 
 such delight.
 
 CHARMIDES 49 
 
 I was the Attic shepherd's trysting place, 
 
 Beneath my shadow Amaryllis lay, 
 And round my trunk would laughing Daphnis 
 
 chase 
 
 The timorous girl, till tired out with play 
 She felt his hot breath stir her tangled hair, 
 And turned, and looked, and fled no more from 
 such delightful snare. 
 
 Then come away unto my ambuscade 
 Where clustering woodbine weaves a canopy 
 
 For amorous pleasaunce, and the rustling shade 
 Of Paphian myrtles seems to sanctify 
 
 The dearest rites of love ; there in the cool 
 
 And green recesses of its farthest depth there is 
 a pool,
 
 50 POEMS 
 
 The ouzel's haunt, the wild bee's pasturage, 
 For round its rim great creamy lilies float 
 
 Through their flat leaves in verdant anchorage, 
 Each cup a white-sailed golden-laden boat 
 
 Steered by a dragon-fly, be not afraid 
 
 To leave this wan and wave-kissed shore, surely 
 the place was made 
 
 For lovers such as we ; the Cyprian Queen, 
 One arm around her boyish paramour, 
 
 Strays often there at eve, and I have seen 
 The moon strip off her misty vestiture 
 
 For young Endymion's eyes ; be not afraid, 
 
 The panther feet of Dian never tread that secret 
 glade.
 
 CHARMIDES 51 
 
 Nay if thou will'st, back to the beating brine, 
 Back to the boisterous billow let us go, ' 
 
 And walk all day beneath the hyaline 
 Huge vault of Neptune's watery portico, 
 
 And watch the purple monsters of the deep 
 
 Sport in ungainly play, and from his lair keen 
 Xiphias leap. 
 
 For if my mistress find me lying here 
 She will not ruth or gentle pity show, 
 
 But lay her boar- spear down, and with austere 
 Relentless fingers string the cornel bow, 
 
 And draw the feathered notch against her breast, 
 
 And loose the arched cord ; aye, even now upon 
 the quest
 
 52 POEMS 
 
 I hear her hurrying feet, awake, awake, 
 Thou laggard in love's battle ! once at least 
 
 Let me drink deep of passion's wine, and slake 
 My parched being with the nectarous feast 
 
 Which even gods affect ! come, Love, come, 
 
 Still we have time to reach the cavern of thine 
 azure home.' 
 
 Scarce had she spoken when the shuddering trees 
 
 Shook, and the leaves divided, and the air 
 Grew conscious of a god, and the grey seas 
 
 Crawled backward, and a long and dismal blare 
 Blew from some tasselled horn, a sleuth-hound 
 
 bayed, 
 
 And like a flame a barbed reed flew whizzing down 
 the glade.
 
 CHARMIDES 53 
 
 And where the little flowers of her breast 
 Just brake into their milky blossoming, 
 
 This murderous paramour, this unbidden guest, 
 Pierced and struck deep in horrid chambering, 
 
 And ploughed a bloody furrow with its dart, 
 
 And dug a long red road, and cleft with winged 
 death her heart. 
 
 Sobbing her life out with a bitter cry 
 On the boy's body fell the Dryad maid, 
 
 Sobbing for incomplete virginity, 
 
 And raptures unenjoyed, and pleasures dead, 
 
 And all the pain of things unsatisfied, 
 
 And the bright drops of crimson youth crept down 
 her throbbing side.
 
 54 POEMS 
 
 Ah ! pitiful it was to hear her moan, 
 
 And very pitiful to see her die 
 Ere she had yielded up her sweets, or known 
 
 The joy of passion, that dread mystery 
 Which not to know is not to live at all, 
 And yet to know is to be held in death's most 
 deadly thrall. 
 
 But as it hapt the Queen of Cythere, 
 Who with Adonis all night long had lain 
 
 Within some shepherd's hut in Arcady, 
 On team of silver doves and gilded wain 
 
 Was joiirneying Paphos-ward, high up afar 
 
 From mortal ken between the mountains and the 
 morning star,
 
 CHARMIDES 55 
 
 And when low down she spied the hapless pair, 
 And heard the Oread's faint despairing cry, 
 
 Whose cadence seemed to play upon the air 
 As though it were a viol, hastily 
 
 She bade her pigeons fold each straining plume, 
 
 And dropt to earth, and reached the strand, and 
 saw their dolorous doom. 
 
 For as a gardener turning back his head 
 To catch the last notes of the linnet, mows 
 
 With careless scythe too near some flower bed, 
 And cuts the thorny pillar of the rose, 
 
 And with the flower's loosened loveliness 
 
 Strews the brown mould ; or as some shepherd 
 lad in wantonness
 
 56 POEMS 
 
 Driving Ids little flock along the mead 
 
 Treads down two daffodils, which side by side 
 
 Have lured the lady -bird with yellow brede 
 And made the gaudy moth forget its pride, 
 
 Treads down their brimming golden chalices 
 
 Under light feet which were not made for such 
 rude ravages ; 
 
 Or as a schoolboy tired of his book 
 Flings himself down upon the reedy grass 
 
 And plucks two water-lilies from the brook, 
 And for a time forgets the hour glass, 
 
 Then wearies of their sweets, and goes his way, 
 
 And lets the hot sun kill them, even so these 
 lovers lay.
 
 CHARMIDES 57 
 
 And Venus cried, ' It is dread Artemis 
 Whose bitter hand hath wrought this cruelty, 
 
 Or else that mightier maid whose care it is 
 To guard her strong and stainless majesty 
 
 Upon the hill Athenian, alas ! 
 
 That they who loved so well unloved into Death's 
 house should pass.' 
 
 So with soft hands she laid the boy and girl 
 In the great golden waggon tenderly 
 
 (Her white throat whiter than a moony pearl 
 Just threaded with a blue vein's tapestry 
 
 Had not yet ceased to throb, and still her breast 
 
 Swayed like a wind-stirred lily in ambiguous 
 unrest)
 
 58 POEMS 
 
 And then each pigeon spread its milky van, 
 The bright car soared into the dawning sky, 
 
 And like a cloud the aerial caravan 
 Passed over the JSgean silently, 
 
 Till the faint air was troubled with the song 
 
 From the wan mouths that call on bleeding 
 Thammuz all night long. 
 
 But when the doves had reached their wonted 
 
 goal 
 
 Where the wide stair of orbed marble dips 
 Its snows into the sea, her fluttering soul 
 
 Just shook the trembling petals of her lips 
 And passed into the void, and Venus knew 
 That one fair maid the less would walk amid her 
 retinue,
 
 CHARMIDES 59 
 
 And bade her servants carve a cedar chest 
 
 With all the wonder of this history, 
 Within whose scented womb their limbs should 
 
 rest 
 
 Where olive-trees make tender the blue sky 
 On the low hills of Paphos, and the Faun 
 Pipes in the noonday, and the nightingale sings 
 on till dawn. 
 
 Nor failed they to obey her hest, and ere 
 The morning bee had stung the daffodil 
 
 With tiny fretful spear, or from its lair 
 The waking stag had leapt across the rill 
 
 And roused the ouzel, or the lizard crept 
 
 Athwart the sunny rock, beneath the grass their 
 bodies slept.
 
 60 POEMS 
 
 And when day brake, within that silver shrine 
 Fed by the flames of cressets tremulous, 
 
 Queen Venus knelt and prayed to Proserpine 
 That she whose beauty made Death amorous 
 
 Should beg a guerdon from her pallid Lord, 
 
 And let Desire pass across dread Charon's icy ford.
 
 CHARMIDES 61 
 
 in 
 
 TN melancholy moonless Acheron, 
 
 Farm for the goodly earth and joyous day 
 Where no spring ever buds, nor ripening sun 
 
 Weighs down the apple trees, nor flowery May 
 Chequers with chestnut blooms the grassy floor, 
 Where thrushes never sing, and piping linnets 
 mate no more, 
 
 There by a dim and dark Lethaean well 
 Young Charmides was lying ; wearily 
 
 He plucked the blossoms from the asphodel, 
 And with its little rifled treasury 
 
 Strewed the dull waters of the dusky stream, 
 
 And watched the white stars founder, and the 
 land was like a dream,
 
 62 POEMS 
 
 When as lie gazed into the watery glass 
 
 And through, his brown hair's curly tangles 
 
 scanned 
 His own wan face, a shadow seemed to pass 
 
 Across the mirror, and a little hand 
 Stole into his, and warm lips timidly 
 Brushed his pale cheeks, and breathed their secret 
 forth into a sigh. 
 
 Then turned he round his weary eyes and saw, 
 And ever nigher still their faces came, 
 
 And nigher ever did their young mouths draw 
 Until they seemed one perfect rose of flame, 
 
 And longing arms around her neck he cast, 
 
 And felt her throbbing bosom, and his breath 
 came hot and fast,
 
 CHARMIDES 63 
 
 And all his hoarded sweets were hers to kiss, 
 And all her maidenhood was his to slay, 
 
 And limb to limb in long and rapturous bliss 
 Their passion waxed and waned, why essay 
 
 To pipe again of love, too venturous reed ! 
 
 Enough, enough that Eros laughed upon that 
 flowerless mead. 
 
 Too venturous poesy, why essay 
 To pipe again of passion ! fold thy wings 
 
 O'er daring Icarus and bid thy lay 
 Sleep hidden in the lyre's silent strings 
 
 Till thou hast found the old Castalian rill, 
 
 Or from the Lesbian waters plucked drowned 
 Sappho's golden quill !
 
 64 POEMS 
 
 Enough, enough that he whose life had been 
 A fiery pulse of sin, a splendid shame, 
 
 Could in the loveless land of Hades glean 
 
 One scorching harvest from those fields of flame 
 
 Where passion walks with naked unshod feet 
 
 And is not wounded, ah ! enough that once their 
 lips could meet 
 
 In that wild throb when all existences 
 
 Seemed narrowed to one single ecstasy 
 Which dies through its own sweetness and the 
 
 stress 
 
 Of too much pleasure, ere Persephone 
 Had bade them serve her by the ebon throne 
 Of the pale God who in the fields of Enna loosed 
 her zone.
 
 POEMS
 
 REQUIESCAT 67 
 
 REQUIESCAT 
 
 "TREAD lightly, she is near 
 
 Under the snow, 
 Speak gently, she can hear 
 The daisies grow. 
 
 All her bright golden hair 
 Tarnished with rust, 
 
 She that was young and fair 
 Fallen to dust. 
 
 Lily-like, white as snow, 
 
 She hardly knew 
 She was a woman, so 
 
 Sweetly she grew.
 
 68 . POEMS 
 
 Coffin- board, heavy stone, 
 
 Lie on her breast, 
 I vex my heart alone, 
 
 She is at rest. 
 
 Peace, Peace, she cannot hear 
 
 Lyre or sonnet, 
 All my life's buried here, 
 
 Heap earth upon it. 
 AVIGNON
 
 SAN MINIATO 69 
 
 SAN MINIATO 
 
 GEE, I have climbed the mountain side 
 
 Up to this holy house of God, 
 Where once that Angel-Painter trod 
 Who saw the heavens opened wide, 
 
 And throned upon the crescent moon 
 The Virginal white Queen of Grace, 
 Mary ! could I but see thy face 
 
 Death could not come at all too soon. 
 
 crowned by God with thorns and pain ! 
 
 Mother of Christ ! mystic wife ! 
 
 My heart is weary of this life 
 And over-sad to sing again.
 
 70 POEMS 
 
 crowned by God with love and flame ! 
 
 crowned by Christ the Holy One ! 
 
 listen ere the searching sun 
 Show to the world my sin and shame.
 
 ROME UNVISITED 71 
 
 ROME UNVISITED 
 
 HTHE corn has turned from grey to red, 
 
 Since first my spirit wandered forth 
 From the drear cities of the north, 
 And to Italia's mountains fled. 
 
 And here I set my face towards home, 
 For all my pilgrimage is done, 
 Although, methinks, yon blood- red sun 
 
 Marshals the way to Holy Rome. 
 
 Blessed Lady, who dost hold 
 Upon the seven hills thy reign ! 
 Mother without blot or stain, 
 
 Crowned with bright crowns of triple gold !
 
 72 POEMS 
 
 Roma, Roma, at thy feet 
 I lay this barren gift of song ! 
 For, ah ! the way is steep and long 
 
 That leads unto thy sacred street.
 
 ROME UNVISITED 73 
 
 A ND yet what joy it were for me 
 
 To turn my feet unto the south, 
 And journeying towards the Tiber mouth 
 To kneel again at Fiesole ! 
 
 And wandering through the tangled pines 
 That break the gold of Arno's stream, 
 To see the purple mist and gleam 
 
 Of morning on the Apennines 
 
 By many a vineyard- hidden home, 
 Orchard and olive-garden grey, 
 Till from the drear Campagna's way 
 
 The seven hills bear up the dome !
 
 74 POEMS 
 
 HI 
 A PILGRIM from the northern seas 
 
 What joy for me to seek alone 
 The wondrous temple and the throne 
 Of him who holds the awful keys ! 
 
 When, bright with purple and with gold 
 Come priest and holy cardinal, 
 And borne above the heads of all 
 
 The gentle Shepherd of the Fold. 
 
 joy to see before I die 
 The only God-anointed king, 
 And hear the silver trumpets ring 
 
 A triumph as he passes by !
 
 ROME UNVISITED 75 
 
 Or at the brazen-pillared shrine 
 Holds high the mystic sacrifice, 
 And shows his God to human eyes 
 
 Beneath the veil of bread and wine.
 
 76 POEMS 
 
 IV 
 
 U'OR lo, what changes time can bring ! 
 
 The cycles of revolving years 
 May free my heart from all its fears, 
 And teach my lips a song to sing. 
 
 Before yon field of trembling gold 
 Is garnered into dusty sheaves, 
 Or ere the autumn's scarlet leaves 
 
 Flutter as birds adown the wold, 
 
 I may have run the glorious race, 
 And caught the torch while yet aflame, 
 And called upon the holy name 
 
 Of Him who now doth hide His face. 
 
 ARONA
 
 HUMANITAD 77 
 
 HUMANITAD 
 
 TT is full winter now : the trees are bare, 
 
 Save where the cattle huddle from the cold 
 Beneath the pine, for it doth never wear 
 The autumn's gaudy livery whose gold 
 Her jealous brother pilfers, but is true 
 To the green doublet ; bitter is the wind, as 
 though it blew 
 
 From Saturn's cave ; a few thin wisps of hay 
 Lie on the sharp black hedges, where the wain 
 
 Dragged the sweet pillage of a summer's day 
 From the low meadows up the narrow lane ; 
 
 Upon the half-thawed snow the bleating sheep 
 
 Press close against the hurdles, and the shivering 
 house-dogs creep
 
 78 POEMS 
 
 From the shut stable to the frozen stream 
 And back again disconsolate, and miss 
 
 The bawling shepherds and the noisy team ; 
 And overhead in circling listlessness 
 
 The cawing rooks whirl round the frosted stack, 
 
 Or crowd the dripping boughs ; and in the fen 
 the ice-pools crack 
 
 Where the gaunt bittern stalks among the reeds 
 And flaps his wings, and stretches back his 
 
 neck, 
 And hoots to see the moon ; across the meads 
 
 Limps the poor frightened hare, a little speck ; 
 And a stray seamew with its fretful cry 
 Flits like a sudden drift of snow against the dull 
 grey sky.
 
 HUMANITAD 79 
 
 Full winter : and the lusty goodman brings 
 His load of faggots from the chilly byre, 
 
 And stamps his feet upon the hearth, and flings 
 The sappy billets on the waning fire, 
 
 And laughs to see the sudden lightening scare 
 
 His children at their play, and yet, the spring 
 is in the air ; 
 
 Already the slim crocus stirs the snow, 
 And soon yon blanched fields will bloom 
 
 again 
 
 With nodding cowslips for some lad to mow, 
 For with the first warm kisses of the rain 
 The winter's icy sorrow breaks to tears, 
 And the brown thrushes mate, and with bright 
 eyes the rabbit peers
 
 80 POEMS 
 
 From the dark warren where the fir-cones lie, 
 And treads one snowdrop under foot, and 
 
 runs 
 Over the mossy knoll, and blackbirds fly 
 
 Across our path at evening, and the suns 
 Stay longer with us ; ah ! how good to see 
 Grass- girdled spring in all her joy of laughing 
 greenery 
 
 Dance through the hedges till the early rose, 
 (That sweet repentance of the thorny briar !) 
 
 Burst from its sheathed emerald and disclose 
 The little quivering disk of golden fire 
 
 Which the bees know so well, for with it come 
 
 Pale boy's-love, sops-in-wine, and dafiadillies all 
 in bloom.
 
 HUMANITAD 81 
 
 Then up and down the field the sower goes, 
 While close behind the laughing younker scares 
 
 With shrilly whoop the black and thievish crows, 
 And then the chestnut-tree its glory wears, 
 
 And on the grass the creamy blossom falls 
 
 In odorous excess, and faint half-whispered 
 madrigals 
 
 Steal from the bluebells' nodding carillons 
 Each breezy morn, and then white jessamine, 
 
 That star of its own heaven, snap-dragons 
 With lolling crimson tongues, and eglantine 
 
 In dusty velvets clad usurp the bed 
 
 And woodland empery, and when the lingering 
 rose hath shed
 
 82 POEMS 
 
 Red leaf by leaf its folded panoply, 
 And pansies closed their purple-lidded eyes, 
 
 Chrysanthemums from gilded argosy 
 Unload their gaudy scentless merchandise, 
 
 And violets getting overbold withdraw 
 
 From their shy nooks, and scarlet berries dot the 
 leafless haw. 
 
 happy field ! and thrice happy tree ! 
 
 Soon will your queen in daisy-flowered smock 
 And crown of flower-de-luce trip down the lea, 
 Soon will the lazy shepherds drive their 
 
 flock 
 
 Back to the pasture by the pool, and soon 
 Through the green leaves will float the hum of 
 murmuring bees at noon.
 
 HUMANITAD 83 
 
 Soon will the glade be bright with bellamour, 
 The flower which wantons love, and those sweet 
 
 nuns 
 Vale-lilies in their snowy vestiture 
 
 Will tell their beaded pearls, and carnations 
 With mitred dusky leaves will scent the wind, 
 And straggling traveller's-joy each hedge with 
 yellow stars will bind. 
 
 %,. 
 
 Dear bride of Nature and most bounteous spring, 
 That canst give increase to the sweet-breath'd 
 
 kine, 
 And to the kid its little horns, and bring 
 
 The soft and silky blossoms to the vine, 
 Where- is that old nepenthe which of yore 
 Man got from poppy root and glossy-berried 
 mandragore !
 
 84 POEMS 
 
 There was a time when any common bird 
 Could make me sing in unison, a time 
 
 When all the strings of boyish life were stirred 
 To quick response or more melodious rhyme 
 
 By every forest idyll ; do I change ? 
 
 Or rather doth some evil thing through thy fair 
 pleasaunce range ? 
 
 Nay, nay, thou art the same : 'tis I who seek 
 
 To vex with sighs thy simple solitude, 
 And because fruitless tears bedew my cheek 
 
 Would have thee weep with me in brotherhood ; 
 Fool ! shall each wronged and restless spirit 
 
 dare 
 
 To taint such wine with the salt poison of his 
 own despair !
 
 HUMANITAD 85 
 
 Thou art the same : 'tis I whose wretched 
 
 soul 
 
 Takes discontent to be its paramour, 
 And gives its kingdom to the rude control 
 Of what should be its servitor, for sure 
 Wisdom is somewhere, though the stormy sea 
 Contain it not, and the huge deep answer * 'Tis 
 not in me.* 
 
 To burn with one clear flame, to stand erect 
 In natural honour, not to bend the knee 
 
 In profitless prostrations whose effect 
 Is by itself condemned, what alchemy 
 
 Can teach me this ? what herb Medea brewed 
 
 Will bring the unexultant peace of essence not 
 subdued ?
 
 86 POEMS 
 
 The minor chord which ends the harmony, 
 And for its answering brother waits in vain 
 
 Sobbing for incompleted melody, 
 Dies a swan's death ; but I the heir of pain, 
 
 A silent Memnon with blank lidless eyes, 
 
 Wait for the light and music of those suns which 
 never rise. 
 
 The quenched-out torch, the lonely cypress-gloom, 
 The little dust stored in the narrow urn, 
 
 The gentle XAIPE of the Attic tomb, 
 Were not these better far than to return 
 
 To my old fitful restless malady, 
 
 Or spend my days within the voiceless cave of 
 misery ?
 
 HUMANITAD 87 
 
 Nay ! for perchance that poppy-crowned god 
 Is like the watcher by a sick man's bed 
 
 Who talks of sleep but gives it not ; his rod 
 Hath lost its virtue, and, when all is said, 
 
 Death is too rude, too obvious a key 
 
 To solve one single secret in a life's philosophy. 
 
 And Love ! that noble madness, whose august 
 And inextinguishable might can slay 
 
 The soul with honeyed drugs, alas ! I must 
 From such sweet ruin play the runaway, 
 
 Although too constant memory never can 
 
 Forget the arched splendour of those brows 
 Olympian
 
 88 POEMS 
 
 Which for a little season made my youth 
 So soft a swoon of exquisite indolence 
 
 That all the chiding of more prudent Truth 
 Seemed the thin voice of jealousy, hence 
 
 Thou huntress deadlier than Artemis ! 
 
 Go seek some other quarry ! for of thy too perilous 
 bliss 
 
 My lips have drunk enough, no more, no more, 
 Though Love himself should turn his gilded 
 
 prow 
 Back to the troubled waters of this shore 
 
 Where I am wrecked and stranded, even now 
 The chariot wheels of passion sweep too near, 
 Hence ! Hence ! I pass unto a life more barren, 
 more austere.
 
 HUMANITAD 89 
 
 More barren ay, those arms will never lean 
 Down through the trellised vines and draw my 
 
 soul 
 In sweet reluctance through the tangled green ; 
 
 Some other head must wear that aureole, 
 For I am hers who loves not any man 
 Whose white and stainless bosom bears the sign 
 Gorgonian. 
 
 Let Venus go and chuck her dainty page, 
 And kiss his mouth, and toss his curly hair, 
 
 With net and spear and hunting equipage 
 Let young Adonis to his tryst repair, 
 
 But me her fond and subtle-fashioned spell 
 
 Delights no more, though I could win her dearest 
 citadel.
 
 90 POEMS 
 
 Ay, though I were that laughing shepherd boy 
 
 Who from Mount Ida saw the little cloud 
 Pass over Tenedos and lofty Troy 
 And knew the coming of the Queen, and 
 
 bowed 
 
 In wonder at her feet, not for the sake 
 Of a new Helen would I bid her hand the apple 
 take. 
 
 Then rise supreme Athena argent-limbed ! 
 
 And, if my lips be musicless, inspire 
 At least my life : was not thy glory hymned 
 
 By One who gave to thee his sword and lyre 
 Like jEschylos at well-fought Marathon, 
 And died to show that Milton's England still 
 could bear a son !
 
 HUMANITAD 91 
 
 And yet I cannot tread the Portico 
 And live without desire, fear and pain, 
 
 Or nurture that wise calm which long ago 
 The grave Athenian master taught to men, 
 
 Self-poised, self-centred, and self-comforted, 
 
 To watch the world's vain phantasies go by with 
 unbowed head. 
 
 Alas ! that serene brow, those eloquent lips, 
 Those eyes that mirrored all eternity, 
 
 Kest in their own Colonos, an eclipse 
 Hath come on Wisdom, and Mnemosyne 
 
 Is childless ; in the night which she had made 
 
 For lofty secure flight Athena's owl itself hath 
 strayed.
 
 92 POEMS 
 
 Nor much with Science do I care to climb, 
 Although by strange and subtle witchery 
 
 She drew the moon from heaven : the Muse Time 
 Unrolls her gorgeous-coloured tapestry 
 
 To no less eager eyes ; often indeed 
 
 In the great epic of Polymnia's scroll I love to 
 read 
 
 How Asia sent her myriad hosts to war 
 Against a little town, and panoplied 
 
 In gilded mail with jewelled scimitar, 
 
 White-shielded, purple- crested, rode the Mede 
 
 Between the waving poplars and the sea 
 
 Which men call Artemisium, till he saw Ther- 
 mopylae
 
 HUMANITAD 93 
 
 Its steep ravine spanned by a narrow wall, 
 And on ths nearer side a little brood 
 
 Of careless lions holding festival ! 
 And stood amazed at such hardihood, 
 
 And pitched his tent upon the reedy shore, 
 
 And stayed two days to wonder, and then crept 
 at midnight o'er 
 
 Some unfrequented height, and coming down 
 The autumn forests treacherously slew 
 
 What Sparta held most dear and was the crown 
 Of far Eurotas, and passed on, nor knew 
 
 How God had staked an evil net for him 
 
 In the small bay at Salamis, and yet, the page 
 grows dim,
 
 94 POEMS 
 
 Its cadenced Greek delights me not, I feel 
 With, such a goodly time too out of tune 
 To love it much : for like the Dial's wheel 
 
 That from its blinded darkness strikes the 
 
 noon 
 
 Yet never sees the sun, so do my eyes 
 Eestlessly follow that which from my cheated 
 vision flies. 
 
 for one grand unselfish simple life 
 
 To teach us what is Wisdom ! speak ye hills 
 
 Of lone Helvellyn, for this note of strife 
 
 Shunned your untroubled crags and crystal rills, 
 
 Where is that Spirit which living blamelessly 
 
 Yet dared to kiss the smitten mouth of his own 
 century !
 
 HUMANITAD 95 
 
 Speak ye Rydalian laurels ! where is he 
 Whose gentle head ye sheltered, that pure soul 
 
 Whose gracious days of uncrowned majesty 
 Through lowliest conduct touched the lofty goal 
 
 Where love and duty mingle ! Him at least 
 
 The most high Laws were glad of, he had sat at 
 Wisdom's feast ; 
 
 But we are Learning's changelings, know by rote 
 The clarion watchword of each Grecian school 
 
 And follow none, the flawless sword which smote 
 The pagan Hydra is an effete tool 
 
 Which we ourselves have blunted, what man now 
 
 Shall scale the august ancient heights and to old 
 Reverence bow ?
 
 96 POEMS 
 
 One such indeed I saw, but, Ichabod ! 
 
 Gone is that last dear son of Italy, 
 Who being man died for the sake of God, 
 
 And whose unrisen bones sleep peacefully, 
 guard him, guard him well, my Giotto's tower, 
 Thou marble lily of the lily town ! let not the 
 lour 
 
 Of the rude tempest vex his slumber, or 
 The Arno with its tawny troubled gold 
 
 O'er-leap its marge, no mightier conqueror 
 Clomb the high Capitol in the days of old 
 
 When Rome was indeed Rome, for Liberty 
 
 Walked like a bride beside him, at which sight 
 pale Mystery
 
 HUMANITAD 97 
 
 Fled shrieking to her farthest sombrest cell 
 With an old man who grabbled rusty keys, 
 
 Fled shuddering, for that immemorial knell 
 With which oblivion buries dynasties 
 
 Swept like a wounded eagle on the blast, 
 
 As to the holy heart of Rome the great triumvir 
 passed. 
 
 He knew the holiest heart and heights of 
 
 Rome, 
 
 He drave the base wolf from the lion's lair, 
 And now lies dead by that empyreal dome 
 
 Which overtops Valdarno hung in air 
 By Brunelleschi Melpomene 
 Breathe through thy melancholy pipe thy sweetest 
 threnody !
 
 98 POEMS 
 
 Breathe through the tragic stops such melodies 
 
 That Joy's self may grow jealous, and the Nine 
 Forget awhile their discreet emperies, 
 
 Mourning for him who on Rome's lordliest 
 
 shrine 
 
 Lit for men's lives the light of Marathon, 
 And bare to sun- forgotten fields the fire of the 
 sun ! 
 
 guard him, guard him well, my Giotto's tower ! 
 
 Let some young Florentine each eventide 
 Bring coronals of that enchanted flower 
 
 Which the dim woods of Vallombrosa hide, 
 And deck the marble tomb wherein he liea 
 Whose soul is as some mighty orb unseen of 
 mortal eyes ;
 
 HUMANITAD 99 
 
 Some mighty orb whose cycled wanderings, 
 Being tempest-driven to the farthest rim 
 
 Where Chaos meets Creation and the wings 
 Of the eternal chanting Cherubim 
 
 Are pavilioned on Nothing, passed away 
 
 Into a moonless void, and yet, though he is dust 
 and clay, 
 
 He is not dead, the immemorial Fates 
 Forbid it, and the closing shears refrain. 
 
 Lift up your heads ye everlasting gates ! 
 Ye argent clarions, sound a loftier strain 
 
 For the vile thing he hated lurks within 
 
 Its sombre house, alone with God and memories, 
 of sin.
 
 100 POEMS 
 
 Still what avails it that she sought her cave 
 That murderous mother of red harlotries ? 
 
 At Munich on the marble architrave 
 
 The Grecian boys die smiling, but the seas 
 
 Which wash ^gina fret in loneliness 
 
 Not mirroring their beauty; so our lives grow 
 colourless 
 
 For lack of our ideals, if one star 
 
 Flame torch-like in the heavens the unjust 
 
 Swift daylight kills it, and no trump of war 
 Can wake to passionate voice the silent dust 
 
 Which was Mazzini once ! rich Niobe 
 
 For all her stony sorrows hath her sons; but 
 Italy,
 
 HUMANITAD 101 
 
 What Easter Day shall make her children rise, 
 Who were not Gods yet suffered ? what sure 
 
 feet 
 Shall find their grave-clothes folded ? what clear 
 
 eyes 
 
 Shall see them bodily ? it were meet 
 To roll the stone from off the sepulchre 
 And kiss the bleeding roses of their wounds, in 
 love of her, 
 
 Our Italy ! our mother visible ! 
 
 Most blessed among nations and most sad, 
 For whose dear sake the young Calabrian fell 
 
 That day at Aspromonte and was glad 
 That in an age when God was bought and sold 
 One man could die for Liberty ! but we, burnt 
 out and cold,
 
 102 POEMS 
 
 See Honour smitten on the cheek and gyves 
 Bind the sweet feet of Mercy : Poverty 
 
 Creeps through our sunless lanes and with sharp 
 
 knives 
 Cuts the warm throats of children stealthily, 
 
 And no word said : we are wretched men 
 
 Unworthy of our great inheritance ! where is the 
 
 pen 
 
 \ 
 
 Of austere Milton ? where the mighty sword 
 Which slew its master righteously ? the years 
 
 Have lost their ancient leader, and no word 
 Breaks from the voiceless tripod on our ears : 
 
 While as a ruined mother in some spasm 
 
 Bears a base child and loathes it, so our best 
 enthusiasm
 
 HUMANITAD 103 
 
 Genders unlawful children, Anarchy 
 Freedom's own Judas, the vile prodigal 
 
 Licence who steals the gold of Liberty 
 And yet has nothing, Ignorance the real 
 
 One Fraticide since Cain, Envy the asp 
 
 That stings itself to anguish, Avarice whose palsied 
 grasp 
 
 Is in its extent stiffened, moneyed Greed 
 
 For whose dull appetite men waste away 
 Amid the whirr of wheels and are the seed 
 
 Of things which slay their sower, these each 
 
 day 
 
 Sees rife in England, and the gentle feet 
 Of Beauty tread no more the atones of each 
 unlovely street.
 
 104 POEMS 
 
 What even Cromwell spared is desecrated 
 By weed and worm, left to the stormy play 
 
 Of wind and beating snow, or renovated 
 By more destructful hands : Time's worst decay 
 
 Will wreathe its ruins with some loveliness, 
 
 But these new Vandals can but make a rain-proof 
 barrenness. 
 
 Where is that Art which bade the Angela sing 
 
 Through Lincoln's lofty choir, till the air 
 Seems from such marble harmonies to ring 
 
 With sweeter song than common lips can 
 
 dare 
 
 To draw from actual reed ? ah ! where is now 
 The cunning hand which made the flowering haw- 
 thorn branches bow
 
 HUMANITAD 105 
 
 For Southwell's arch, and carved the House of 
 
 One 
 
 Who loved the lilies of the field with all 
 Our dearest English flowers ? the same sun 
 
 Rises for us : the seasons natural 
 Weave the same tapestry of green and grey : 
 The unchanged hills are with us : but that Spirit 
 hath passed away. 
 
 And yet perchance it may be better so, 
 For Tyranny is an incestuous Queen, 
 
 Murder her brother is her bedfellow, 
 And the Plague chambers with her : in 
 obscene 
 
 And bloody paths her treacherous feet are set ; 
 
 Better the empty desert and a soul inviolate !
 
 106 POEMS 
 
 For gentle brotherhood, the harmony 
 
 Of living in the healthful air, the swift 
 Clean beauty of strong lirnbs when men are free 
 And women chaste, these are the things which 
 
 lift 
 
 Our souls up more than even Agnolo's 
 Gaunt blinded Sibyl poring o'er the scroll of 
 human woes, 
 
 Or Titian's little maiden on the stair 
 White as her own sweet lily and as tall, 
 
 Or Mona Lisa smiling through her hair, 
 Ah ! somehow life is bigger after all 
 
 Than any painted angel, could we see 
 
 The God that is within us ! The old Greek 
 serenity
 
 HUMANITAD 107 
 
 Which curbs the passion of that level line 
 Of marble youths, who with untroubled eyes 
 
 And chastened limbs ride round Athena's shrine 
 And mirror her divine economies, 
 
 And balanced symmetry of what in man 
 
 Would else wage ceaseless warfare, this at least 
 within the span 
 
 Between our mother's kisses and the grave 
 
 Might so inform our lives, that we could win 
 Such mighty empires that from her cave 
 
 Temptation would grow hoarse, and pallid 
 
 Sin 
 
 Would walk ashamed of his adulteries, 
 And Passion creep from out the House of Lust 
 with startled eyes.
 
 108 POEMS 
 
 To make the body and the spirit one 
 With all right things, till no thing live in 
 
 vain 
 From morn to noon, but in sweet unison 
 
 With every pulse of flesh and throb of brain 
 The soul in flawless essence high enthroned, 
 Against all outer vain attack invincibly bas- 
 tioned, 
 
 Mark with serene impartiality 
 
 The strife of things, and yet be comforted, 
 Knowing that by the chain causality 
 
 All separate existences are wed 
 Into one supreme whole, whose utterance 
 Is joy, or holier praise ! ah ! surely this were 
 governance
 
 HUMANITAD 109 
 
 Of Life in most august omnipresence, 
 
 Through which the rational intellect would 
 
 find 
 In passion its expression, and mere sense, 
 
 Ignoble else, lend fire to the mind, 
 And being joined with it in harmony 
 More mystical than that which binds the stars 
 planetary, 
 
 Strike from their several tones one octave chord 
 Whose cadence being measureless would fly 
 
 Through all the circling spheres, then to its Lord 
 Return refreshed with its new empery 
 
 And more exultant power, this indeed 
 
 Could we but reach it were to find the last, the 
 perfect creed.
 
 110 POEMS 
 
 Ah ! it was easy when the world was young 
 To keep one's life free and inviolate, 
 
 From our sad lips another song is rung, 
 By our own hands our heads are desecrate, 
 
 Wanderers in drear exile, and dispossessed 
 
 Of what should be our own, we can but feed on 
 wild unrest. 
 
 Somehow the grace, the bloom of things has 
 
 flown, 
 
 And of all men we are most wretched who 
 Must live each other's lives and not our own 
 
 For very pity's sake and then undo 
 All that we lived for it was otherwise 
 When soul and body seemed to blend in mystic 
 symphonies.
 
 HUMANITAD 111 
 
 But we have left those gentle haunts to pass 
 
 4 
 
 With weary feet to the new Calvary, 
 Where we behold, as one who in a glass 
 
 Sees his own face, self-slain Humanity, 
 And in the dumb reproach of that sad gaze 
 Learn what an awful phantom the red hand of 
 man can raise. 
 
 smitten mouth ! forehead crowned with 
 
 thorn ! 
 
 chalice of all common miseries ! 
 Thou for our sakes that loved thee not hast borne 
 
 An agony of endless centuries, 
 And we were vain and ignorant nor knew 
 That when we stabbed thy heart it was our own 
 real hearts we slew.
 
 112 POEMS 
 
 Being ourselves the sowers and the seeds, 
 
 The night that covers and the lights that fade, 
 
 The spear that pierces and the side that bleeds, 
 The lips betraying and the life betrayed ; 
 
 The deep hath calm : the moon hath rest : but we 
 
 Lords of the natural world are yet our own dread 
 enemy. 
 
 Is this the end of all that primal force 
 
 Which, in its changes being still the same, 
 From eyeless Chaos cleft its upward course, 
 
 Through ravenous seas and whirling rocks and 
 
 flame, 
 
 Till the suns met in heaven and began 
 Their cycles, and the morning stars sang, and the 
 Word was Man !
 
 HUMANITAD 113 
 
 Nay, nay, we are but crucified, and though 
 
 The bloody sweat falls from our brows like raio 
 Loosen the nails we shall come down I know, 
 Staunch the red wounds we shall be whole 
 
 again, 
 
 No need have we of hyssop-laden rod, 
 That which is purely human, that is godlike, that 
 is God.
 
 114 POEMS 
 
 LOUIS NAPOLEON 
 
 T7AGLE of Austerlitz ! where were thy wings 
 When far away upon a barbarous strand, 
 
 In fight unequal, by an obscure hand, 
 Fell the last scion of thy brood of Kings ! 
 
 Poor boy ! thou shalt not flaunt thy cloak of red, 
 Or ride in state through Paris in the van 
 Of thy returning legions, but instead 
 
 Thy mother France, free and republican, 
 
 Shall on thy dead and crownless forehead place 
 The better laurels of a soldier's crown, 
 That not dishonoured should thy soul go down 
 
 To tell the mighty Sire of thy race
 
 LOUIS NAPOLEON 115 
 
 That France hath kissed the mouth of Liberty, 
 And found it sweeter than his honied bees, 
 And that the giant wave Democracy 
 
 Breaks on the shores where Kings lay couched at 
 ease.
 
 116 POEMS 
 
 ENDYMION 
 (FOB MUSIC) 
 
 "THE apple trees are hung with gold, 
 
 And birds are loud in Arcady, 
 The sheep lie bleating in the fold, 
 The wild goat runs across the wold, 
 But yesterday his love he told, 
 
 I know he will come back to me. 
 rising moon ! Lady moon ! 
 
 Be you my lover's sentinel, 
 
 You cannot choose but know him well, 
 For he is shod with purple shoon, 
 You cannot choose but know my love, 
 
 For he a shepherd's crook doth bear, 
 And he is soft as any dove, 
 
 And brown and curly is his hair.
 
 ENDYMION 117 
 
 The turtle now has ceased to call 
 
 Upon her crimson- footed groom, 
 The grey wolf prowls about the stall, 
 The lily's singing seneschal 
 Sleeps in the lily-bell, and all 
 
 The violet hills are lost in gloom. 
 risen moon ! holy moon ! 
 
 Stand on the top of Helice, 
 
 And if my own true love you see, 
 Ah ! if you see the purple shoon, 
 The hazel crook, the lad's brown hair, 
 
 The goat-skin wrapped about his arm, 
 Tell him that I am waiting whece 
 
 The rushlight glimmers in the Farm. 
 
 The falling dew is cold and chill, 
 And no bird sings in Arcady,
 
 118 POEMS 
 
 The little fauns have left the hill, 
 
 Even the tired daffodil 
 
 Has closed its gilded doors, and still 
 
 My lover comes not back to me. 
 False moon ! False moon ! waning moon ! 
 
 Where is my own true lover gone, 
 
 Where are the lips vermilion, 
 The shepherd's crook, the purple shoon ? 
 Why spread that silver pavilion, 
 
 Why wear that veil of drifting mist ? 
 Ah ! thou hast young Endymion 
 
 Thou hast the lips that should be kissed !
 
 LE JARDIN 119 
 
 LE JARDIN 
 
 ""THE lily's withered chalice falls 
 Around its rod of dusty gold, 
 And from the beech-trees on the wold 
 The last wood-pigeon coos and calls. 
 
 The gaudy leonine sunflower 
 Hangs black and barren on its stalk, 
 And down the windy garden walk 
 
 The dead leaves scatter, hour by hour. 
 
 Pale privet-petals white as milk 
 Are blown into a snowy mass : 
 The roses lie upon the grass 
 
 Like little shreds of crimson silk.
 
 120 LA MER 
 
 LA MER 
 
 A WHITE mist drifts across the shrouds, 
 /"A 
 
 A wild moon in this wintry sky- 
 Gleams like an angry lion's eye 
 Out of a mane of tawny clouds. 
 
 The muffled steersman at the wheel 
 Is but a shadow in the gloom ; 
 And in the throbbing engine-room 
 
 Leap the long rods of polished steel. 
 
 The shattered storm has left its trace 
 Upon this huge and heaving dome, 
 For the thin threads of yellow foam 
 
 Float on the waves like ravelled lace.
 
 LE PANNEAU 121 
 
 LE PANNEAU 
 T TNDER the rose-tree's dancing shade 
 
 There stands a little ivory girl, 
 Pulling the leaves of pink and pearl 
 With pale green nails of polished jade. 
 
 The red leaves fall upon the mould, 
 The white leaves flutter, one by one, 
 Down to a blue bowl where the sun, 
 
 Like a great dragon, writhes in gold. 
 
 The white leaves float upon the air, 
 The red leaves flutter idly down, 
 Some fall upon her yellow gown, 
 
 And some upon her raven hair.
 
 122 POEMS 
 
 She takes an amber lute and sings, 
 And as she sings a silver crane 
 Begins his scarlet neck to strain, 
 
 And flap his burnished metal wings. 
 
 She takes a lute of amber bright, 
 And from the thicket where he lies 
 Her lover, with his almond eyes, 
 
 Watches her movements in delight. 
 
 And now she gives a cry of fear, 
 And tiny tears begin to start : 
 A thorn has wounded with its dart 
 
 The pink- veined sea-shell of her ear. 
 
 And now she laughs a merry note : 
 There has fallen a petal of the rose 
 Just where the yellow satin shows 
 
 The blue-veined flower of her throat.
 
 LE PANNEAU 123 
 
 With pale green nails of polished jade, 
 Pulling the leaves of pink and pearl, 
 There stands a little ivory girl 
 
 Under the rose-tree's dancing shade.
 
 124 POEMS 
 
 LES BALLONS 
 
 A GAINST these turbid turquoise skies 
 
 The light and luminous balloons 
 Dip and drift like satin moons, 
 Drift like silken butterflies ; 
 
 Reel with every windy gust, 
 Eise and reel like dancing girls, 
 Float like strange transparent pearls, 
 
 Fall and float like silver dust. 
 
 Now to the low leaves they cling, 
 Each with coy fantastic pose, 
 Each a petal of a rose 
 
 Straining at a gossamer string.
 
 LES BALLONS 125 
 
 Then to the tall trees they climb, 
 
 Like thin globes of amethyst, 
 
 Wandering opals keeping tryst 
 With the rubies of the lime.
 
 126 POEMS 
 
 CANZONET 
 
 I HAVE no store 
 
 Of gryphon-guarded gold ; 
 
 Now, as before, 
 Bare is the shepherd's fold. 
 
 Rubies nor pearls 
 Have I to gem thy throat ; 
 
 Yet woodland girls 
 Have loved the shepherd's note. 
 
 Then pluck a reed 
 And bid me sing to thee, 
 
 For I would feed 
 Thine ears with melody, 
 
 Who art more fair
 
 CANZONET 127 
 
 Than fairest fleur-de-lys, 
 
 More sweet and rare 
 Than sweetest ambergris. 
 
 What dost thou fear ? 
 Young Hyacinth is slain, 
 
 Pan is not here, 
 And will not come again. 
 
 No horned Faun 
 Treads down the yellow leas, 
 
 No God at dawn 
 Steals through the olive trees. 
 
 Hylas is dead, 
 Nor will he e'er divine 
 
 Those little red 
 Rose-petalled lips of thine.
 
 128 POEMS 
 
 On the high hill 
 No ivory dryads play, 
 
 Silver and still 
 Sinks the sad autumn day.
 
 LE JARDIN DES TUILERIES 129 
 
 LE JARDIN DES TUILERIES 
 
 '"THIS winter air is keen and cold, 
 
 And keen and cold this winter sun, 
 But round my chair the children run 
 Like little things of dancing gold. 
 
 Sometimes about the painted kiosk 
 The mimic soldiers strut and stride, 
 Sometimes the blue-eyed brigands hide 
 
 In the bleak tangles of the bosk. 
 
 And sometimes, while the old nurse cons 
 Her book, they steal across the square, 
 And launch their paper navies where 
 
 Huge Triton writhes in greenish bronze.
 
 130 POEMS 
 
 And now in mimic flight they flee, 
 And now they rush, a boisterous band 
 And, tiny hand on tiny hand, 
 
 Climb up the black and leafless tree. 
 
 Ah ! cruel tree ! if I were you, 
 And children climbed me, for their sake 
 Though it be winter I would break 
 
 Into spring blossoms white and blue !
 
 PAN 131 
 
 PAN 
 
 DOUBLE VILLANELLE 
 
 Q GOAT-FOOT God of Arcady ! 
 
 This modern world is grey and old, 
 And what remains to us of thee ? 
 
 No more the shepherd lads in glee 
 Throw apples at thy wattled fold, 
 goat-foot God of Arcady ! 
 
 Nor through the laurels can one see 
 Thy soft brown limbs, thy beard of gold 
 And what remains to us of thee ?
 
 132 POEMS 
 
 And dull and dead our Thames would be, 
 For here the winds are chill and cold, 
 goat-foot God of Arcady ! 
 
 Then keep the tomb of Helice, 
 
 Thine olive-woods, thy vine-clad wold, 
 
 And what remains to us of thee ? 
 
 Though many an unsung elegy 
 Sleeps in the reeds our rivers hold, 
 goat- foot God of Arcady ! 
 Ah, what remains to us of thee ?
 
 PAN 133 
 
 ii 
 
 AH, leave the hills of Arcady, 
 
 Thy satyrs and their wanton play, 
 This modern world hath need of thee. 
 
 No nymph or Faun indeed have we, 
 For Faun and nymph are old and grey, 
 Ah, leave the hills of Arcady ! 
 
 This is the land where liberty 
 
 Lit grave-browed Milton on his way, 
 
 This modern world hath need of thee ! 
 
 A land of ancient chivalry 
 Where gentle Sidney saw the day, 
 Ah, leave the hills of Arcady !
 
 134 POEMS 
 
 This fierce sea-lion of the sea, 
 
 This England lacks some stronger lay, 
 
 This modern world hath need of thee ! 
 
 Then blow some trumpet loud and free, 
 And give thine oaten pipe away, 
 Ah, leave the hills of Arcady ! 
 This modern world hath need of thee ',
 
 IN THE FOREST 135 
 
 IN THE FOREST 
 
 /^\UT of the mid- wood's twilight 
 
 Into the meadow's dawn, 
 Ivory limbed and brown- eyed, 
 Flashes my Faun ! 
 
 He skips through the copses singing, 
 And his shadow dances along, 
 
 And I know not which I should follow, 
 Shadow or song ! 
 
 Hunter, snare me his shadow ! 
 
 Nightingale, catch me his strain ! 
 Else moonstruck with music and madness 
 
 1 track him in vain !
 
 136 POEMS 
 
 SYMPHONY IN YELLOW 
 
 A N omnibus across the bridge 
 
 Crawls like a yellow butterfly 
 And, here and there, a passer-by 
 Shows like a little restless midge. 
 
 Big barges full of yellow hay 
 Are moored against the shadowy wharf, 
 And, like a yellow silken scarf, 
 
 The thick fog hangs along the quay. 
 
 The yellow leaves begin to fade 
 And flutter from the Temple elms, 
 And at my feet the pale green Thames 
 
 Lies like a rod of rippled jade.
 
 SONNETS
 
 HELAS ! 139 
 
 HELAS ! 
 
 HTO drift with every passion till my soul 
 
 Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play, 
 Is it for this that I have given away 
 Mine ancient wisdom and austere control ? 
 Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll 
 Scrawled over on some boyish holiday 
 With idle songs for pipe and virelay, 
 Which do but mar the secret of the whole. 
 Surely there was a time I might have trod 
 The sunlit heights, and from life's dissonance 
 Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God : 
 Is that time dead ? lo ! with a little rod 
 I did but touch the honey of romance 
 And must I lose a soul's inheritance ?
 
 140 POEMS 
 
 TO MILTON 
 
 |V/[ILTON ! I think thy spirit hath passed 
 away 
 
 From these white cliffs and high-embattled towers ; 
 This gorgeous fiery- coloured world of ours 
 
 Seems fallen into ashes dull and grey, 
 
 And the age changed unto a mimic play 
 Wherein we waste our else too-crowded hours : 
 For all our pomp and pageantry and powers 
 
 We are but fit to delve the common clay, 
 
 Seeing this little isle on which we stand, 
 This England, this sea-lion of the sea, 
 By ignorant demagogues is held in fee, 
 
 Who love her not : Dear God ! is this the land 
 Which bare a triple empire in her hand 
 When Cromwell spake the word Democracy !
 
 CHRISTIANS IN BULGARIA 141 
 
 ON THE MASSACRE OF THE CHRISTIANS 
 IN BULGARIA 
 
 CHRIST, dost Thou live indeed ? or are Thy 
 
 bones 
 
 Still straitened in their rock-hewn sepulchre ? 
 And was Thy Rising only dreamed by her 
 Whose love of Thee for all her sin atones ? 
 For here the air is horrid with men's groans, 
 The priests who call upon Thy name are slain, 
 Dost Thou not hear the bitter wail of pain 
 From those whose children lie upon the stones ? 
 Come down, Son of God ! incestuous gloom 
 Curtains the land, and through the starless night 
 Over Thy Cross a Crescent moon I see I 
 If Thou in very truth didst burst the tomb 
 Come down, Son of Man ! and show Thy might 
 Lest Mahomet be crowned instead of Thee !
 
 142 POEMS 
 
 HOLY WEEK AT GENOA 
 
 T WANDERED through Scoglietto's far re- 
 treat, 
 
 The oranges on each o'erhanging spray 
 Burned as bright lamps of gold to shame the 
 
 day; 
 
 Some startled bird with fluttering wings and fleet 
 Made snow of all the blossoms ; at my feet 
 Like silver moons the pale narcissi lay : 
 And the curved waves that streaked the great 
 
 green bay 
 
 Laughed i' the sun, and life seemed very sweet. 
 Outside the young boy-priest passed singing clear, 
 * Jesus the son of Mary has been slain, 
 come and fill His sepulchre with flowers.' 
 Ah, God ! Ah, God ! those dear Hellenic hours 
 Had drowned all memory of Thy bitter pain, 
 The Cross, the Crown, the Soldiers and the 
 Spear.
 
 URBS SACRA STERNA 143 
 
 URBS SACRA STERNA 
 D OME ! what a scroll of History thine has 
 
 been ; 
 
 In the first days thy sword republican 
 Ruled the whole world for many an age's span : 
 Then of the peoples wert thou royal Queen, 
 Till in thy streets the bearded Goth was seen ; 
 And now upon thy walls the breezes fan 
 (Ah, city crowned by God, discrowned by man !) 
 The hated flag of red and white and green. 
 When was thy glory ! when in search for power 
 Thine eagles flew to greet the double sun, 
 And the wild nations shuddered at thy rod ? 
 Nay, but thy glory tarried for this hour, 
 When pilgrims kneel before the Holy One, 
 The prisoned shepherd of the Church of God. 
 MONTE MARIO
 
 144 POEMS 
 
 E TENEBRIS 
 
 /^OME down, Christ, and help me! reach 
 
 Thy hand, 
 
 For I am drowning in a stormier sea 
 Than Simon on Thy lake of Galilee : 
 
 The wine of life is spilt upon the sand, 
 
 My heart is as some famine- murdered land 
 Whence all good things have perished utterly, 
 And well I know my soul in Hell must lie 
 
 If I this night before God's throne should stand. 
 
 * He sleeps perchance, or rideth to the chase, 
 Like Baal, when his prophets howled that name 
 From morn to noon on Carmel's smitten height.' 
 
 Nay, peace, I shall behold, before the night, 
 The feet of brass, the robe more white than 
 
 flame, 
 The wounded hands, the weary human face.
 
 AT VERONA 145 
 
 AT VERONA 
 
 LJOW steep the stairs within King's housea 
 
 are 
 
 For exile-wearied feet as mine to tread, 
 And how salt and bitter is the bread 
 
 Which falls from this Hound's table, better far 
 
 That I had died in the led ways of war, 
 Or that the gate of Florence bare my head, 
 Than to live thus, by all things comraded 
 
 Which seek the essence of my soul to mar. 
 
 1 Curse God and die : what better hope than this ? 
 He hath forgotten thee in all the bliss 
 Of his gold city, and eternal day ' 
 
 Nay peace : behind my prison's blinded bars 
 I do possess what none can take away, 
 My love and all the glory of the stars.
 
 146 POEMS 
 
 ON THE SALE BY AUCTION OF 
 KEATS' LOVE LETTERS 
 
 HTHESE are the letters which Endymion wrote 
 
 To one he loved in secret, and apart. 
 And now the brawlers of the auction mart 
 
 Bargain and bid for each poor blotted note, 
 
 Ay ! for each separate pulse of passion quote 
 The merchant's price. I think they love not art 
 Who break the crystal of a poet's heart 
 
 That small and sickly eyes may glare and gloat. 
 
 Is it not said that many years ago, 
 In a far Eastern town, some soldiers ran 
 With torches through the midnight, and began 
 
 To wrangle for mean raiment, and to throw 
 Dice for the garments of a wretched man, 
 
 Not knowing the God's wonder, or His woe ?
 
 THE NEW REMORSE 147 
 
 THE NEW REMORSE 
 
 HTHE sin was mine ; I did not understand. 
 So now is music prisoned in her cave, 
 Save where some ebbing desultory wave 
 
 Frets with its restless whirls this meagre strand. 
 
 And in the withered hollow of this land 
 Hath Summer dug herself so deep a grave, 
 That hardly can the leaden willow crave 
 
 One silver blossom from keen Winter's hand. 
 
 But who is this who cometh by the shore ? 
 (Nay, love, look up and wonder !) Who is this 
 
 Who cometh in dyed garments from the South ? 
 It is thy new-found Lord, and he shall kiss 
 
 The yet unravished roses of thy mouth, 
 And I shall weep and worship, as before.
 
 WVMAN * SONS I.TP., PB!^^TR8, TtAOINC AND LONB8R
 
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