<3)risc IN HAD€S ecc DySC€Pn€NPDILLIPS €bKin mathews'^jhillincGorJancI Fiffh Edition With Additions < Elkin Mathews' Shilling Garland Price One Shilling, net, each part. No. I. LONDON VISIONS: Book I. By LaU- REN'CE BiNYON. [Second Edition. "Mr. Binyon leads off in Mr. Elkin Mathews' new poetical series . . . with a hook of new verses, * London Visions,' and there seems to me to be no question about the uncommon worth of these. . . . They are twelve genuine things cut out of the heart of London life, and some of them are poems of a big order. . . . The stuff of poetry is in him, as it is in few of our pleasant verse writers to-day ; and I doubt if any of the London poets — I am not forgetting Mr. Henley — has put so much of actual London into his poetry. " — Sketch. No. 2. PURCELL COMMEMORATION ODE, and other Poems. By Robert Bridges. \Second Edition. No. 3. CHRIST IN HADES, and other Poems. By Stephen Phillips. [Fifth Edition. "It is a wonderful dream, a dream that stirs the heart in almost eveiy line, though Christ himself never utters a word throughout the poem, but only brings his sad countenance and bleeding brow and torn hands into that imaginary world of half conceived and chaotic gloom." — Spectator. " This much at least is certain, that here we have a new and powerful individuality, standing quite alone among our younger poets, and one who has the courage to attempt a sustained effort on a great theme. . . . We welcome this poem as a high performance seriously undertaken and powerfully carried through, and as deeply felt as it is vividly imagined." — Saturday Revieiv. "The solemn music is matched by majestic words. The poignancy of feeling which is in the title-poem cries from the lyrics also." — Speaker. No. 4. AEROMANCY, and other Poems, By Margaret L. Woods. Second Edition. " Mrs. Woods is a poet of great power and originality." — Globe. ' CHRIST IN HADES Ex Librig C. K. OGDEN CHRIST IN HADES AND OTHER POEMS BY STEPHEN PHILLIPS LONDON ELKIN MATHEWS, VIGO STREET 1897 Fifth Edition PR C5-7 1897 UBnARY UNIVERSITY OF CAIJFORNIA SANTA BARBARA TO FRANK BENSON I DEDICATE THIS BOOK CHRIST IN HADES A PHANTASY Keen as a blinded man, at dawn awake, Smells in the dark the cold odour of earth ; Eastward he turns his eyes, and over him A dreadful freshness exquisitely breathes ; The room is brightening, even his own face ! So the excluded ghosts in Hades felt A waft of early sweet, and heard the rain Of Spring beginning over them ; they all Stood still, and in each other's faces looked. And restless grew their queen Persephone; Who, like a child, dreading to be observed By awful Dis, threw little glances down Toward them, and understood them with her eyes. Perpetual dolour had as yet but drooped The corners of her mouth ; and in her hand She held a bloom that had on earth a name. 8 CHRIST IN HADES Quickly she whispered : " Come, my Hermes, come ! 'Tis time to fetch me ! Ah, through all my veins The sharpness of the spring returns : I hear The stalk revive with sap, and the first drops On green illumined grass; now over me The blades are growing fast ; I cannot rest. He comes, he comds ! Yet with how slow a step, Who used to run along a sunny gust ! And O a withered wreath ! no roses now Dewy from paradise. Surely not his Those earnest eyes, that ragged hair ; his face, Was glad and cold. This is no god at all, Only some grieving human shade, with hands Unsightly, and the eager Furies wheel Over him ! " Slowly to her side her arms Had fallen ; Christ with grave eves looks on her. Her young mouth trembled fast, and from her hand With serious face she let the earthly flower Drop down ; then, stretching out her arms, she said : " O all fresh out of beautiful sunlight ! Thine eyes are still too dazed to see us clear. Was it not difficult to come away Straight from the greenness to the dimness ? Now It is the time of tender, opening things. Above my head the fields murmur and wave, CHRIST IN HADES 9 And breezes are just moving the clear heat. O the mid-noon is trembling on the corn, On cattle calm, and trees in perfect sleep. And hast thou empty come? Hast thou not brought f Even a blossom with the noise of rain And smell of earth about it, that w^e all Might gather round and w^hisper over it? At one wet blossom all the de.ad vrould feel ! O thou beginning to glide here a shadow, Soon shalt thou know how much it seems to us, In miserable dim magnificence, Xo feel the snowdrop growing over us ! That barren crown ! but now it was a wreath. These gu_sts of Hell have blown it_iiltp tjiorn ! If thou canst bear it yet, O speak to me Of the blue noon, of breezes and of rivers ! " A wonderful stillness stopped her ; like to trees Motionless in an ecstasy of rain. So the tall dead stood drooping around Christ, Under th.e fallin g peace i ntense ly still ; And some in slow delight their faces raised Upwards ; but soon, like leaves, duly released, Tormented phantoms, ancient injured shades, Sighing began downward to drift and glide Toward him, and unintelligibly healed Lingered, with closing eyes and parting lips. Agamemnon bowed over, and from his wheel Ixion staggered to his feet all blind. 10 CHRIST IN HADES Oyer the head of Jesus the whole sky Of pain began to drive: old punishments Diswrcathing drooped, and legendary dooms Dispersing hung, and lurid history streamed. But he against that flying sky remained Placid wjth p owe r ; in silence stood the dead, Gazing ; only was heard that river steal, The listless ripple of Oblivion. Then an Athenian ghost stood out and spoke. *' I fear to speak to thee, while these my eyes Behold our great life interrupted pause. That was our sky, that passes: and I miss The busy sound of water, and of stone ; And sorrows that we thought perpetual 1 see suspended, and amid them thee Gentle, and all injured. Art thou a god Easily closing all these open eyes. And hast not spoken word? Thou hast not played Monotonously as rain, inducing sleep: Thou comest without lute, yet hast thou power To charm the fixed melancholy of spirits ? Art thou a god ? Then guide us to the air, To trees and rivers, that peculiar light Which even now is squandered on the beasts. Canst thou not make the primrose venture up Or bring the gentlest shower ? O pity us ; For I would ask of thee only to look Upon the wonderful sunlight, and to smell Earth in the rain. Is not the labourer, CHRIST IN HADES n Returning heavy through the August sheaves Against the setting sun, who gladly smells His supper from the opening door, is he Not happier than these melancholy kings ? How good it is to live, even at the worst ! God was so lavish to us once, but here He hath repented, jealous of his beams. Just as a widower, that dreaming holds His dead wife in his arms, not wondering, So natural it appears ; then starting up With trivial words, or even with a jest, Then realises all the uncoloured dawn. And near his head the young bird in the leaves Stirring ; not less, nor otherwise do we Want in this colourless country the warm earth. Yet how s hall we in thy to rmented face Believe? Thou comest from the glistening sun As out of some great battle, i|or hast thou The beautiful ease of the untroubled gods. Most strong are they, for they are joyous cold. Thou art not happy ! We can trust thee not. How wilt thou lead with feet already pierced ? And if we ask thy hand, see, it is torn ! But when he had spoken, Christ no answer made. Upon his hands in uncouth gratitude Great prisoners muttering fawned: behind them stood Dreadful suspended business, and vast life Pausing, dismantled piers, and naked frames. 12 CHRIST IN HADES And further, shapes from obscure troubles loosed. Like mist descended: on the horizon last, The piled tremendous firmament collapsed, With dazzling pains, and solemn sorrows white. Then stole a woman up to him, and said : "Although I know thee not, yt^t can I tell That only a great love hath brought thee hither. Didst thou so ail in brightness, and couldst not rest For thinking of some woman ? Was thy bed So empty, cold thy hearth, and aimless glides Thy wife amidst us? Whom then dost thou seek ? For see, we are so changed : thou wouldst not know The busy form that moved about thy fire. She has no occupation, and no care. No little tasks. O we had pleasant homes. And often we remember husbands dear, That were most kind, and wonder after them. My little children ! Who sings to them now ? Return then to the earth ! Thou canst not fetch Thy drooping listless woman to the air. Thou'lt have no comfort out of her at all. Yet say, perhaps thou hast but lately died, And wanderest here imburied ? Restless seem Those eves ; ah, on thy body thou dost feel The bird settling? Hath no friend covered up Thy limbs, or do they fall with falling waves? " CHRIST IN HADES 13 But one broke in on her with eager words. " See how we live along exhausted streams, Eluding forests, and dispersing hills; O but I gloried and drank and wept and laughed ! Give me again great life ! To dare, to enjoy, To explore, never to tire, to be alive, And full of blood, and young, to risk, to love ! The bright glory of after-battle wine, The flushed recounting faces, the stern hum Of burnished armies, thrill of unknown seas ! " As he was speaking, slowly all the dead The melancholy attradlion of Jesus felt; And millions, like a sea, wave upon wave, Heaved dreaming to that moonlight face, or ran In wonderful long ripples, sorrow-charmed. Toward him in faded purple, pacing came Dead emperors, and sad unflattered kings ; Unlucky captains listless armies led ; Poets with music frozen on their lips, Toward the pale Brilliance sighed ; until at last Antiquity, like evening gathering, With mild and starry faces, gradually Had stolen up. Glimmering all the dead Looked upon Jesus ; as they stood, some thought Spread from the furthest edges like a breeze. Till like a leafy forest, the huge host Whispered together, bending all one way Toward him ; and then ensued a stillness deep. But suddenly the form of Jesus stirred ; And all the dead stirred with him suddenly. 14 CHRIST IN HADES He shuddered in a rapture; and from his eyes They felt returning agonies of hope. As men, flame-wrapped, hither and thither run, To rid them, or fall headlong to the ground ; The dead, caught in intolerable hope, Hither and hither burning rushed, or fell Imploring him to leave them cold ; but Christ iCame through them : leading irresistibly /Not western spirits alone: but all that world Was up ! and after him in passion swept 1 1 Dead Asia, murmuring, and the buried North ! But in his path a lonely spirit stood ; A Roman, he who from a greater Greek Borrowed as beautifully as the moon The fire of the sun : fresh come he was, and still Deaf with the sound of Rome : forward he came Softly ; a human tear had not yet dried. "Whither," he said, "O whither dost thou lead In such a calm all these embattled dead ? Almost I could begin to sing again, To see these nations burning run through Hell, Magnificently anguished, by the grave Untired ; and this last March against the Powers. Who would more gladly follow thee than I ? But over me the human trouble comes. Dear gladiator pitted against Fate, I fear for thee: around thee is the scent Of over-beautiful, quick-fading things, The pang, the gap, the briefness, all the dew, CHRIST IN HADES 15 Tremble, and suddenness of earth : I must Remember young men dead in their hot bloom, The sweetness of the world edged like a sword, The melancholy knocking of those waves, The deep unhappiness of winds, the light That comes on things we never more shall see. Yet I am thrilled : thou seemest like the bourne Of all our music, of the hinting night, Of souls under the moonlight opening." Now after speaking, he bowed down his head. Faltered, and shed wet tears in the vain place. And Christ half turned, and with grave, open eyes, Looked on him : but behind there was a sound Of vast impatience, and the murmurous chafe Of captains sick for war ; and poets shone All dreaming bright, and fiery prophets, seized With gladness, boded splendid things ; and scarred Heroes, as desperate men, that see no path, Yet follow a riddled memorable flag, Pressed close upon that leader world-engraved, But he began to pace with slower step, With wandering gaze, still hesitating more ; Then stayed, and on his last foot strongly leaned. Faintly the air bore to him blood he knew His gentle eyes hither and thither roved. The Furies rose ejaculating fast. And circled nearer o'er the limitless dead. Who paused, all whispering : before them hung Still unredeemed Prometheus from his crag , i6 CHRIST IN HADES His limbs impaled : then stood the Son of Man, And seemed almost about to speak ; the dead In silence upward gazed. The Titan's face Through passing storms leaps out in dazzling pain Momently on them, and his tone returns Fitfully through the gusting hurricane. '' Stay, mighty dreamer, though thou comest on Attracting all the dead, to thy deep charm Resigned and bright ; yet stay, and look on me ! Do I not trouble thee ? Dost thou not swerve Smelling my kindred blood on the great track ? Full in thy path I menace. After me Canst thou go on ? " The storm carried his voice From them, and veiled with rushing hail his face. Then many unbound heroes toward him ran, Going with great dumb gestures between him And Christ ; and in their leader's face looked up Beseeching him their brother to release ; Then they refrained, all motionless: and now The Titan bowed, coming upon them, and seemed Falling to carry with him all the crag Down on them : over the dead host he cried : " Lo all these ancient prisoners released ! Did I not feel them everywhere come down Easily from immortal torment? yet I, I alone, while all came down from woe, Still striving, could not wrench away these limbs. O Christ, canst thou a nail move from these feet, Thou who art standing in such love of me f CHRIST IN HADES 17 Thy hands are too like mine to undo these bonds, Brother, although the dead world follow thee, Deep-fascinated: love hath marred us both, And one yearning, as wide as is the world. O how thy power leaves thee at this cross ! Prepare thee for the anguish ! Thou shalt know Trouble so exquisite, that from his wheel Happy Ixion shall spare tears for thee ; And thou shalt envy me my shadowy crag And softly-feeding vulture. Thou shalt stand Gazing for ever on the earth, and watch How fast thy words incarnadine the world ! That I know all things is my torment ; nothing, That ever shall befall, to nie is new : Already I have suffered it far-off; And on the mind the poor event appears The pale reflexion of some ancient pang. Yet I foresee dim comfort, and discern A bleak magnificence of endless hope. It seems that even thy woe shall have an end. It comes upon thee ! O prepare thee ; ah, That wailing, those young cries, this smouldering smell ! I see the dreadful look of men unborn. What hast thou said, that all the air blood ? "^ c^.-/^'. He cried with nostril shuddering fast ; and Christ Moved to unbind him ; but with arm outstretched Suddenly stood. A scene unrolling staye d Him who had eas ily released the de ad^ B i8 CHRIST IN HADES He knew that for a time the great advance He must delay, postponing our desire. The earth again he sees, and all mankind Half in the shining sun upright, and half Reposing in the shadow ; deserts and towns. And cloudy mountains and the trembling sea, And all the deeds done ; and the spoken words Distindl he hears : the human history Before his eyes defiles in bright sunbeams, An endless host parading past ; whomjhe, Their leader mild, re morsefully reviewed ^ And had no joy in t hem , alt hough aloud They c ried his name , and w]th fieix e faces glad Look ed up to him for^ prajse, aj j murmuring_^ roud. And b lood y t rophies toward h imflouris hed and waved : But as he stood, gazing, from time to time He seemed to swerve, as though his hand grew red, / Or move, as though to interrupt some sight. Now when the dead saw that he must not stir. Absorbed, with wonder gathering in his eyes, They came about him, touching him, and some Reminded him, and looked into his face. Others in patience laid them down, or fell To calling him sweet earthlv names : at last Waiting the signal that he could not give. Wanting the one word that he might not speak, Seeing he stirred not once, they wandered ofF, CHRIST IN HADES 19 And gathering into groups, yet spoke of him ; Then to despair slowly dispersed, as men Return with morning to the accustomed task. And as without some theatre, so friend Waited for friend, and speaking of that scene, Into the ancient sorrow walked away. Yet many could not, after such a sight. At once retire, but must from time to time Linger with undetermining bright eyes. Now at each parting way some said farewell, And each man took his penance up, perhaps Less easily from such an interval : The vault closed back, woe upon woe, the wheel Revolved, the stone rebounded ; for that tjme Hades her interrupted life resumed. B— 2 THE APPARITION I My dead Love came to me, and said : " God gives me one hour's rest, To spend upon the earth with thee : Hov/ shall we spend it best ? " " Why as of old," I said, and so We quarrelled as of old. But v/hen I turned to make mv peace, That one short hour was told. n Nine nights she did not come to me The heaven was filled with rain ; And as it fell, and fell, I said, " She will not come again." Last night she came, not as before, But in a strange attire ; Weary she seemed, and very faint, As though she came from fire. THE APPARITION III She is not happy ! It was noon j The sun fell on my head : And it was not an hour in which We think upon the dead. She is not happy ! I should know Her voice, much more her cry ; And close beside me a great rose Had just begun to die. She is not happy ! As I walked, Of her I was aware : She cried out, like a creature hurt, Close by me in the air. THE APPARITION 23 IV Under the trembling summer stars, I turned from side to side ; When she came in and sat with me, As though she had not died. And she was kind to me and sweet. She had her ancient way ; Remembered how I liked her hand Amid my hair to stray. She had forgotten nothing, yet Older she seemed, and still : All quietly she took my kiss, Even as a mother will. She rose, and in the streak of dawn She turned as if to go : But then again came back to me ; My eyes implored her so ! She pushed the hair from off my brow, And looked into my eyes. " I live in calm," she said, " and there Am learning to be wise." *' Why grievest thou ? I pity thee Still turning on this bed." " And art thou happy ? " I exclaimed. *' Alas ! " she sighed, and fled. 24 THE APPARITION V I WOKE : she had been standing by, With wonder on her face. She came toward me, very bright, As from a blessed place. She touched me not, but smiling spoke, And softly as before. "They gave me drink from some slow stream ; I love thee now no more." VI The other night she hurried in. Her face was wUd with fear : " Old friend," she said, " I am pursued. May I take refuge here ? " LYRICS I O TO recall ! What to recall ? All the roses under snow ? Not these. Stars that toward the water go ? Not these. O to recall ! What to recall ? All the greenness after rain ? Not this. Joy that gleameth after pain ? Not this, O to recall ! What to recall ? Not the greenness nor delight, Not these ; Not the roses out of sight, Not these. O to recall ! What to recall ? Not the star in waters red, Not this : Laughter of a girl that's dead, O this ! 26 LYRICS II I IN the greyness rose ; I could not sleep for thinking of one dead. Then to the chest I went, Where lie the things of my beloved spread. Quietly these I took ; A little glove, a sheet of music torn, Paintings, ill-done perhaps ; Then lifted up a dress that she had worn. And now I came to where Her letters are ; they lie beneath the rest ; And read them in the haze ; She spoke of many things, was sore opprest. But these things moved me not ; Not when she spoke of being parted quite, Or being misunderstood, Or growing weary of the world's great fight. Not even when she wrote Of our dead child, and the hand-writing swerved ; Not even then I shook : Not even by such words was I unnerved. LYRICS 27 I thought, she is at peace ; Whither the child is gone, she too has passed. And a much needed rest Is fallen upon her, she is still at last. But when at length I took From under all those letters one small sheet, Folded and writ in haste ; Why did my heart with sudden sharpness beat ? Alas, it was not sad ! Her saddest words I had read calmly o'er. Alas, it had no pain ! Her painful words, all these I knew before. A hurried happy line ! A little jest, too slight for one so dead : This did I not endure : Then with a shuddering heart no more I read. 28 LYRICS III O THOU art put to many uses, sweet ! Thy blood will urge the rose, and surge in Spring ; But yet ! . . . And all the blue of thee will go to the sky, And all thy laughter to the rivers run ; But yet ! . . . Thy tumbling hair will in the West be seen, And all thy trembling bosom in the dawn j But yet ! . . . Thy briefness in the dewdrop shall be hung, And all the frailness of thee on the foam ; But yet ! . . . Thy soul shall be upon the moonlight spent, Thy mystery spread upon the evening mere. And yet ! . . . LYRICS 29 AN HOUR Never can God together put That slight and sunny hour ; More serious things are in His sweep, But this beyond His power. Never the sunbeam quite as then, Never the way it came ! Never thy head in just the place. Never thy hand the same ! The sunbeam was not over-bright, It came a wonted way, Thy head had no uncommon droop ; Thy words were light and gay. Yet dreadful is that sunlight now, Awfiil that droop of head. For they are sacred sudden things. And dear as are the dead. 30 LYRICS A FEAR Love, the earth is very old, And very vast the sky ; 1 fear for thee, now thou art dead, To lose thee utterly. Love, I tremble when the heaven Sparkles, and rushes back ; 1 fear thy little human face Eternally to lack. O Love, in such a sight thou art So small a thing to save ; And listen ! how between us sweeps The roaring trackless grave ! A DREAM I HAD a dream of her last night ; It seemed I was in Hell ; A listless river past me went. Of which old poets tell. And as I watched the slipping stream, A tress of woman's hair Was drifted on the languid wave, And it was golden fair. LYRICS 31 IF IT MIGHT BE ! If it might be ! If once again, The gush of sunlight and the pain. If it might be ! If it might be, I would forego This twilight settling on me slow. If it might be ! If it might be, They would not please. These quiet fields and heavy trees. If it might be ! If it might be ! I would not pine With wheeling birds and dozing kine, If it might be ! If it might be ! How fast they tire The level land and peaceful spire ! If it might be ! If it might be ! O sudden sheen. The rapture, and the dripping green ! If it might be ! 32 LYRICS MOTHER AND CHILD My little babe, why dost thou wail To feel the air ? Doth all the brightness make thee pale ? Art thou aware Of heavy sighings in the Sun, Thou that hast not learned to run ? Look up high, never cry, Kiss me, kiss me ! Who hath warned thee in the womb ? Thou seem'st to know ; Or told thee stories in the gloom Of old sorrow ? Wilt thou drink then of my breast ? Ah, in me there is no rest. Look up high, never cry, Kiss me, kiss me ! Must thou drink ? Too much of me. Pretty boy, Thou takest in so eagerly. Too much for joy. O then gently ! Why so fast But of me to drink at last ? Look up high, never cry, Kiss me, kiss me ! LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALTFORNIA. • SANTA BARBARA ' " ' Aeromancy' is a fine poem, but there are others in the slim volume likely to be more popular, ' The Mariner's Sleep by the Sea,' for instance, and still more so, ' The Child Alone ' — the latter a delightful picture of an imaginative child." — Sketch. " It ^Aeromancyj contains some very beautiful verses, but to the uninitiated reader they are somewhat incoherent. The gems of the small selection are ' An April Song ' and ' The Child Alone.' The former is the very life and breath of April at its best. . . . The latter is an exquisite sketch. ... It would be impossible to express the elaborate and buoyant make- believe of an imaginative child's reverie with more force and humour than are given in these spirited verses." — Spectator. No. 5. SONGS AND ODES. By Richard Watsok Dixon (Author of "Mano"). Selected by Robert Bridges. "The Odes have a sonorous stateliness, and a warmth of colour which not infrequently reminds us of great masters." — Speakc7\ " The present shilling book of lyrics shows the author at his best, and should do something towards procuring him his due rank among living poets. The poems are short and there are not many of them, but they are sufficient to reveal the originality of thought and feeling, the loftiness of attitude, and the fine observation which mark Canon Dixon's yiox\.."—rScUurday Review. No. 6. THE PRAISE OF LIFE. By Laurence BlNYON. " Mr. Binyon is one of the most genuine and interesting of the. younger poets. He is not facile, not popular, and he may never learn to be either. But he is of those about whom you never ask why he writes poetry. As a craftsman he is worth study. He makes interesting and often successful experiments in metre." — Sketch. "All are written with a solemn and a stately music of words." — Scoist/ian. No. 7. FANCY'S GUERDON. By Anodos (Author of " Fancy's Following "). *ii* Other Vohtnies are in preparation. LONDON: VIGO STREET, W. THE SHILLING GARLAND NUMBER III