UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES THE LAST KNIGHT AND OTHER POEMS THE LAST KNIGHT AND OTHER POEMS BY THEODORE MAYNARD NEW YORK FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY PUBLISHERS Copyright, 1920, by FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY All rights reserved ERRATA Page 12. Stanza I : For "their" read "his" ; for "shields" read "shield" ; for "seals" read "sealed" Page 13. Stanza 2: For "pondage" read "frondage"; for "frondage" read "bondage" Page 21. Line n : For "sweeter" read "sweet" Page 28. Stanza 2 : For "sweeter" read "sweet" Page 82. Stanza 4: For "woodlands notes" read "woodland vales" Page 98. Line 5 : For "his" read "His" Page 122. Footnote: For "Symposiom" read "Symposium" Page 134. Stanza 2 : For "O" read "Oh" Page 139. Line i : For "Great joy in his" read "Great joy is his" 4G2G48 TO MY MOTHER To you I owe The blood of a Gael, The laughter I wear As a coat of mail. To you I owe My gift of scorn, That I took from you On the day I was born. To you I owe My strength of belief <: Though the credo I utter Has brought you grief. QC. Ll I To you I owe My songs, each one; For you hushed with music Your little son. 402G48 These poems were first published by the follow- ing journals, and are now reprinted by the courtesy of their respective editors : In England: The New Witness, The New Age, The Month, The English Review, The Sunday Times, The Poetry Review, Today, Studies, Fision, Black- friar's, The Englishman, A Miscellany of Poetry, 1919. In the United States : The North American Re- view, The Catholic World, America, The Lyric, Harper's Magazine, The Rosary Magazine, The Outlook, A Miscellany of Poetry, 1919. CONTENTS PART I PAGE LAUS DEO 3 THE LAST KNIGHT 6 THE SCIMITAR 9 THE SWORD 10 ST. GEORGE 13 NIGHT 16 THE MARRIAGE OF THE DAWN 18 SUN 21 SUMMER RAIN 23 EARTH'S GREEN WAYS . 25 LEGEND 26 VAGABONDAGE 30 ENCHANTMENT 33 SUNDAY MORNING AT MARLOW 35 HIGHWAYMAN'S SONG 37 THE HEAVENLY TAVERN 38 A SONG OF DRUNKEN WEATHER 40 RAHAB 42 O FELIX CULPA! 44 CHIVALRY 46 PART II AUBADE 49 THE LOVER'S SILENCE 50 SECRETS 51 DESIDERAVI . 52 IF EVER You COME TO DIE 53 DIRGE 55 REMEMBRANCE 57 CONQUERORS 58 HOLIDAY 59 [vii] CONTENTS PAGE UNUTTERED 61 MARRIAGE 63 DIVORCE 65 FOR M. F. A. M 67 MICHAELMAS DAY 68 PART III SONNETS FROM AN UNFINISHED SEQUENCE . . 73 PART IV ANNUNCIATION 81 SIMPLICITY 84 MEEKNESS 86 PATIENCE 88 TEMPERANCE 90 CHASTITY 91 THE MANICHEE 93 THE IMAGE OF GOD 101 BALLAD OF CHRISTMAS-NIGHT 103 PARTY To THE EASTER DEAD (1918) 109 To FRANCE no THE PARADOX OF VICTORY in THE LAST CRUSADE 113 THE CITY OF THE DEAD 115 THE NEW WORLD 117 PART VI Six EPITAPHS 121 PART VII AN INSCRIPTION WRITTEN WITH A NEW FOUNTAIN PEN USED FOR THE FlRST TlME .... 129 THE DENIAL 130 A FISHERMAN'S STORY 131 BALLADE OF BEELZEBUB 132 BALLADE OF A LOST ROAD 134 BEAUTY BENEAFH WHOSE HAND 136 EPILOGUE 138 [viii] THE LAST KNIGHT AND OTHER POEMS PART I LAUS DEO1 PRAISE ! that when thick night circled over me In chaos ere my time or world began, Thy finger shaped my body cunningly, Thy thought conceived me ere I was a man I Thy Spirit breathed upon me in the dark Wherein I strangely grew, Bestowing glowing powers to the spark The mouth of heaven blew! Praise ! that a babe I leapt upon the world Spread at my feet in its magnificence, With trees as giants, flowers as flags unfurled, And rains as diamonds in their excellence I Praise ! for the solemn splendour of surprise That came with breaking day; For all the ranks of stars that met my eyes When sunset burned away ! Praise! that there burst on my unfolding heart The coloured radiance of leafy June, With choirs of song-birds perfected in art, And nightingales beneath the summer moon- Praise ! that this beauty, an unravished bride Doth hold her lover still; [3] LA US DEO! Doth hide and beckon, laugh at me, and hide Upon each grassy hill. Praise! that I know the dear capricious sky In every infinitely varied mood, Yet under her maternal wings can lie The smallest chick among her countless brood ! Praise ! that I hear the strong winds wildly race Their chariots on the sea, But feel them lift my hair and stroke my face Softly and tenderly ! Praise ! for the joy and gladness Thou didst send When I have sat in gracious fellowship In twilight for an evening with a friend, When wine and magic entered at the lip ! For laughter which the fates can overthrow Thy mercy doth accord To Thee, who didst my godlike joy bestow, I lift my glass, O Lord I Praise I that a lady leaning from her height, A lady pitiful, a tender maid, A queen majestical unto my sight, Spoke words of love to me, and sweetly laid [4] LA US DEO I Her hand within my own unworthy hand! (Rise, soul, to greet thy guest, Mysterious love, whom none shall understand, Though love be all confessed!) Praise ! that upon my bent and bleeding back Was stretched some share of Thy redeeming cross, Some poverty as largess for my lack, Some loss that shall prevent my utter loss I Praise ! that thou gavest me to keep joy sweet The sanguine salt of pain ! Praise ! for the weariness of questing feet That else might quest in vain ! [5] THE LAST KNIGHT I ride, I ride, with my memories of Avalon, The last of the hundred knights that were my peers, With the jesting and the jousting and the glory of the tournaments, The laughter of the ladies ringing in my ears. But I have made an end of all my challenges ; The gallant days have gone beyond recall Although I ride through the furthest bounds of Heathenesse, Silence and the sleep of death enwrap them all. Why should they stir, when all the lords of Chris- tendom, Save I, are sealed beneath the heavy stone? Why should they shout from the turrets of their citadels At one old fool who rides the world alone? Better, by God, were their ancient hate and arro- gance Our churches wrecked, and our fruitful fields laid bare; [6] THE LAST KNIGHT The ambush and the sortie and the charges of our chivalry, The clangour of the battlefields that filled the air! But now they have conquered. In a cold and cruel quietness They hold their peace with a scorn too deep for scorn ! I ride and I ride but this dotard of a paladin Can bring no answer to his angry horn. Could I find a man with belief enough for bias* phemy, I would love him well for his hatred of my creed. But the minds of men are rotted with their toler- ance, And doubt eats their wills like a hungry weed ! I ride, I ride for until a paynim fight with me, My weary bones shall never find their grave. Though rest be sweet I can never have a resting- place Until my sword is red with a stroke it gave. [7] THE LAST KNIGHT Perhaps I shall find it as a man finds fairyland And see it glimmering at the fall of eve, Perhaps a paynim knight will answer to my chal- lenging, And men will die for the lie that they believe. That would be something! For if I could but see again A faith, though false, then the true would surely thrive, And doubt give way to dogma, and truth come to be again Passionate and lovely in a soul alive ! [8] THE SCIMITAR THIS is a scimitar By a magician made, Wrought in a cavern underground: Upon its glistening blade Are graven the praise of Mahound And the ninety-nine names of God; Set in the handle of jade Trembles a blood-red star- Who gazes that jewel in Grows mightier far than sin, For the jewel's holding gives Lordship of earth and air; And the monstrous genii come, At the Caliph's clap or nod, To bring him a houri fair To add to his thousand wives. But more if his pleasure tires, Black eunuchs, fearful and dumb, Must whip their bow-strings out To wind round that slender throat, Which the Caliph no longer desires. They shall press out its silver note And tie her white body about [9] THE SCIMITAR With smooth and silken cords For this, for this was the sword's Secret fashioning underground, For this the praise of Mahound And the ninety-nine names of God- To give to the Caliph's nod Such marvellous potency Through that jewel of destiny. [10] THE SWORD TO that dear garden, shut since Adam fell, Grown o'er with moss and fern and ivied tree, No man shall dare to pass the sentinel Who bears the sword of God's dread chivalry. Within those forests crazy and decayed No panther tracks her^game or rears her young; No bird from Paradise has ever strayed To build its nest the blessed boughs among. A fountain of pure silence, dead as stone, Fixed in its leap and frozen in cascade, Stands in the centre since a man alone Lost his young innocence and grew afraid. Wings there no longer rustle in the brake ; Save tangled weeds there grow no living things : Since Eve learned good and evil from the snake Above the roof of heaven a sword still swings. Yet some have cut a path through bush and brier, And blown a horn in challenge at the gate Only to see as end of their desire, A sword made sharp, a garden desolate. THE SWORD Weary their woes through many questing years, While red rust ate their armour and their shields Only to find the grass as tall as spears And that archangel who, in guarding, seals. This much is given such an one to hold, Though he be frustrate and denied the grace To cross the door a sword made bright and cold, And anger blazing strongly on his face. This shall he keep as comfort from his Lord, Who seeing Eden could not enter in, The accolade from His indignant sword, The spurs, the crest, the name of Paladin! [12] H ST. GEORGE 'E reins his horse and listens. The risen lark sings over The edge of a cloud in a sky washed clean with dew. This is the England he knew of springing grass and clover, This is the England he knew. Earth makes her familiar gesture. The trees into pondage Foam like frozen fountains released, but spill no green. Blue-bells from ancient roots, oblivious of recent frondage Are crowding the trees between. He sits stock-still in his saddle. Holding his spear he listens, Hearing in happy silence the lyric of a bird. The early morning sun on a million dew-points glistens . . . The Knight has not spoken or stirred. [13] ST. GEORGE For here contentment holds him within her quiet places : All else he shall find will be evil, but here is good; Hearts that are cold he shall find t and cruel or sullen faces, Far away from the leafy wood. Whinnies his horse to be gone ; but the knight re- luctant lingers Where thin mist faintly rises, where no factory- shafts appear. His love clings close to ground; but his lips grow tight and his fingers Grow tighter around his spear. When so much else had changed had these not remained unchanging The secret streams, the greenwood, each little irregular field, With memories of Robin Hood and the Lincoln Jackets ranging He had cast aside his shield. Though the rich have taken bribes, and the poor have followed blindly E'4) ST. GEORGE The bidding of alien lords, and are minding their engines' wheels; Though colour slowly fades from their lives their lives are kindly, Despite the chains at their heels. "Were it not so," thought the knight, "The myriad-headed dragon Should eat this England up, while I held my angry hand. But, by God, I hope for better things, for farm and fair and flagon And a sword to save this land!" He reins his horse and listens. The risen lark sings over The edge of a cloud in a sky washed clean with dew. This is the England he knew of springing grass and clover, This is the England he knew. [si NIGHT (i) BEFORE the onslaught of the night the day, Desperately guarding his last stronghold, died Among the flaming hills, where ray on ray Flickered and fell like Lucifer in pride. Then silent clamour filled the heights of heaven With shouts of colour the eyes can see, and cheers Of painted music, as the planets seven Bore down the failing twilight with their spears. And while the winds made mournful requiem Over that battlefield heroical, Chaunting slain captains and the deeds of them The night rode by upon the moon with all The armies of the stars in slow procession, Taking the earth and skies for her possession. [16] NIGHT (B) NOT always with such pomp does night de- scend Winged powerfully with gold and crimson clouds ; But when day makes her treasonable end Leads on, not stars, but evil shapes in crowds. Hobgoblins, witches, ghosts beneath the cover Of this wide leaden dome contrive their charms To spoil the blessed dreams of each sweet lover Asleep with his sweet lover in his arms. The wicked night her invitation utters To lost souls for abominable carouse; A wet and wailing wind between the shutters, Beneath the door and through the keyhole blows; Hands pull the curtains; and the candle gutters; And children scream for terror in the house. [7] THE MARRIAGE OF THE DAWN AWAKEN I cast away the smell of sleep Out of your nostrils ! To the narrow room Shuttered by death, let in the wide Bright sunlight from the deep Where Dawn is waiting lovely as a bride ! Rise up, rise up my soul, and go to meet The shy and lingering hurry of her feet, Moving to greet the longing of her groom ! Awaken to that wonder and your joy I The cerements that bound your mind are gone, Melted before the rising light. Now mightily employ Your powers to their exultant task; gird on The shining sword of your great ecstasy, Before whose edge the legioned glooms must be Turned utterly to swift precipitous flight. Thus shall you win your wedding with your fair Bring garlands from the woods, and sweetly fill Your hair with yellow flowers, array Your body and prepare Its pomp with care for this its nuptial day For heralded with bells Dawn comes to you, [18] THE MARRIAGE OF THE DAWN Leading along her merry retinue Laughing and dancing with her down the hill. Upon the grassy slopes beneath the sky Your hands shall build your rosy marriage bed; The young sun from the rim of heaven Shall bless you as you lie Gilded with glory while your love is given. Pluck tenderly and freely of delight In this surrender, while no folds of night Hang, specked with gold, a canopy o'erhead. But press your wooing ardently and soon, While still on leaf and petal shines the dew, While love is coy and magical; Tween daybreak and the noon Few are the joyous moments that will fall Apt for the capture of the virgin heart Of Dawn, who growing old, must then depart And wrench your rapture utterly from you. A fleeting splendour ! How should there endure A prolongation of your burning zest? But turn and seize love while it last; When Time's so insecure, [19] THE MARRIAGE OF THE DAWN Then ravish the instant ere that it be passed! The noonday lifts herself above the world Let limbs cling closer, soon to be uncurled Kiss, while you may, her lips and hair and breast 1 [20] SUN OlLEEPER in primal darkness, who first heard O God break eternal silence with a word, That stirred the chaos into form and flame; That clove the day from night; that gave a name In turn to every torch-enkindled star Eldest brother, thou, to all things that are ! Beneath thy ray, revealed in light and shade, Water took wings; the firmament was made; And earth, arising out of ocean, bore Fruit trees whose seed lies at the fruit's deep core. And thou and thy sweeter sister, Moon, were given Dominion o'er the burning lamps of heaven, Which mark the seasons and which pull the tides And hold the line where day from night divides. Warmed through, the great sea monsters spouted foam; Fish swam the seas; the wild birds built a home; The long procession of the beasts began; And God in His Own image created man. Thy raging anger through the cosmos sheds A benediction on a billion heads. Thine is the hearth at which creation stands, [21] SUN Toasting before thy fire its sides and hands. Thy universal domesticity Comforts the purring cat, the apple tree, The dragon fly and all things that draw life As equally as Adam and his wife. When the last frozen fountain is released, And the last harvest of the world increased By thy beneficence; when last there dies Sunset as an emperor upon the skies; When neither feeble nor with breast grown cold, Thou perish as the prophet has foretold Washed over and drowned in dreadful seas of blood And earth is drenched with fire as with a flood: If (as I think may be) each man may take Some relic of the sun . . . for her dear sake I'll choose that shaft of light she used to wear On sunny days amid her mortal hair. [22] SUMMER RAIN who have tried to learn How I could find Everywhere marks of her Spirit and mind; How she is mingled with Earth, to the water kith, How the bright sparks of her Fly on the wind Saw her, where wet leaves sway Under the breeze Fall with the faltering Light through the trees; Fall where wild grasses lift Flowers like skies adrift Touching and altering All the eye sees. Through the drenched undergrowth Solitude brings Silence's lyrical Quivering strings. Here where no footsteps stir Solitude sings of her; [23] SUMMER RAIN Silence a miracle ! Sings of her, sings. Thrilled, in the distance, The note of a bird Faintly a lonely sound! Was it her word Cried in the rain-washed wood? Deep in the grass I stood Hoarding the only sound That my heart heard. [24] EARTH'S GREEN WAYS I WANDER in the earth's green ways, and stare With steady happiness at all my finding, Intent and dumb ... A heavy crown of care Lifted from off my head. A chain was binding My feet, lest they should go; a mist was blind- ing My eyes, lest they should see the beauty there Cows in the rushes, and the river winding, The nimble squirrel clambering his stair. Here will I linger on until the amorous Earth shall entreat her lover, night, to keep His promised tryst. Descending, he will steep Her heart in wonder; and in moonlight glamor- ous Lull watchful men and beasts and birds asleep Till day-dawn glimmers and the cocks grow clam- orous. [25] LEGEND "No man dare take of that fruit for it is a thing of fairie." MANDEVILLE'S TRAVELS. I WALKED within my garden Under the sun's strong ray, When the turbaned merchants passed me As they journeyed to Cathay. They passed me with goblin camels Coal black and white as milk, Carrying bales of richest spices And diamonds and furs and silk; Carrying blood-red jewels For the gold of the great queen's hair And glittering coats of silver For the Chan himself to wear. The crafty merchants passed me With faces eager and thin To the far and fabulous Indies Where a fabulous wealth they win. They went through the lanes of England, There in the strong sunlight THose dim and ghostly creatures Who should only have walked by night. [26] LEGEND And I ran beside the caravan, As it journeyed on and on, Until we reached the bounds of the earth In the country of Prester John. From the hill's familiar summit, Where the road swerves down to the right, The shining city of Prester John Lay naked to the sight. At the close of an hour's long travel, At the foot of the quiet lane, Palaces and pinnacles Shot upwards from the plain. And the little stream ran aquiver With jewels to the brim, Making a lordly flood for the sea That shone at the world's rim. It flowed 'twixt the trees of that country, Ten thousand leagues and more From the spot where I met the merchants Passing my own oak door. The marvellous birds of that country In the leafage on either hand 07] LEGEND Sang, while the river glittered And glided to the sea of sand. And the fruit upon the branches Hung thick and ruddy and sweeten But because it was a thing of fairie I dared not eat. Because it was a thing of fairie And I but a mortal man, A sudden fear gave wings to my feet And from that land I ran. I ran from the country of Prester John That sparkled in the light, Till the cool green hedge of my garden Came again in sight. I saw in my quiet garden The apples hang ripe on the bough, And the rows of dear and friendly flowers That in my garden grow. And on the kindly roof of my house Was cast no enchanted thing Nor any spell, but only mystery For the heart's comforting. [28] LEGEND And as one rose up to greet me Than the Chan's youngest daughter more fair The sun released an arrow That alighted amidst her hair. VAGABONDAGE DUSTY of shoes and dented of hat- Beggars we knock on this door and that; Beggars whose bodies are weary and old We whimper for shelter, shut out in the cold: Kind folk, peep through your windows and see The rags of our sorrowful beggary ! An ancient madness has driven us forth To East and West and South and North Though gold upon our palms has lain thick Of men and of cities our hearts have grown sick, Of narrow skies and of dust and of din Lift up the latch and let us come in 1 Draw back the bolts and the stout stiff bars For vagabonds homeless beneath the stars 1 We fain would find a welcome to sit Where the glowworm's friendly lantern is lit . . . To the fellowship of fur and of wing Our sorrowful ditty we sing: We hear not a word that is spoken Under the greenwood tree; No sound of that jovial laughter, That feasting and revelry! [30] VAGABONDAGE The great roots jest together Deep in the ruddy earth, But never a lonely mortal Is partner to that mirth. For the secretive hills are jealous Lest man should overhear t And they guard their hoary fables From every human ear. Though crickets sing in the twilight And larks ascend in the morn, No whisper of their songs' meaning Ever comes to the women-born. For this we have given up kinsfolk And household and household fire, To find in the silver house of the snail The end of our desire. But though men were scornful and bitter And pitiless of face O small folk, are you more ready To give us a resting place? VAGABONDAGE Beggars with bellies drawn tightly in We seek our nightly shelter to win; Yet no beast lifts a kindly eye To welcome such vagabonds passing by. If you'll give us a crust of your fairy bread And a petal of dew, we'll be comforted But no living thing will answer the door Though we tramp and trudge the wide world o'er ENCHANTMENT BECAUSE my childhood only knew The burning sands and white, Where cactus and palmyra grew In bright and bitter light That day the English cliffs were seen, With meadows cool and kind All covered with the grass so green, Comes often to my mind. A little Anglo-Indian boy The Dorset field I trod, Beholding buttercups with joy And daisies meek like God. I found, a little older grown, In Surrey woods of pine A stranger thing to keep and own Than that young zest of mine. A wind that smote me as I sat, With buffets strong and sharp, When the wind of love awoke thereat To play my heart as a harp. [33] ENCHANTMENT But yet those vales are not so dear, As where the gales are loud And skies are iron and austere From Cirencester * to Stroud. Where little houses built of stone In crowded hamlets stand, Because they fear to stand alone In that enchanted land. My mind with pain and happiness, In thinking on it, fills Where the grave silence comes to bless The everlasting hills. 1 Locally pronounced Cicester. SUNDAY MORNING AT MARLOW LAST night as I came up the lane Towards the house that's mine, I saw the thin young moon again Among the planets shine. Between the trees that lined my way A wintry whisper stirred I knew the frost would wake ere day Like some sweet early bird. I knew the fingers of the mist Would falter in their hold When once a glowing sun had kissed A world of glowing cold. And now as I go up the hills This morning after Mass, I see how powdered silver fills The rolling fields of grass. I hear below me as I climb The hills where quiet dwells A music of recurrent rhyme And rhythm from the bells. [35] SUNDAY MORNING AT MARLON It trembles on the frosty air Among the frosty woods, Far off, far off and silver clear Among my solitudes. [36] HIGHWAYMAN'S SONG WHILE a horse is left in stable; While I've pistols and a sword, Does the Sheriff think he's able For to swing me on a cord? While a woman's worth the winning; While there's wine that's fit to drink; While there's still delight in sinning I'll be safe enough, I think! If at last the runners catch me With my pockets stuffed with gold At the least when they dispatch me, I'll be saved from growing old. All my doxies will be crying As I mount the gallows-stairs That's a good death to be dying; I can spare the Parson's prayers I [37] 402648 THE HEAVENLY TAVERN (Sung by the exile in America) I FOUND in the inn upon the hill An ale which body and soul can fill, Ale as strong as the drinkers who sit Drinking and praising the glory of it. I drank a flagon, I drank a pot; I treated the company, paid the shot, And hearty and happy, a man content, I gave them my blessing and out I went. I've discovered that inn in many a town With its score of good fellows whom nothing can drown And we've sometimes sat there till the morn- ing was pink And nothing was left in the house to drink. Whene'er I walked singing along the lane I found that mystical inn again. Whatever the village, whatever the shire The same jolly topers beside the same fire I [38] THE HEAVENLY TAVERN But when I went sailing across the sea Alas ! that inn didn't travel with me ! I've left it and lost it ... oh, where shall I find Any comfort of body or rapture of mind? [39] A SONG OF DRUNKEN WEATHER ALL night the rain came down amain, A raging, drunken storm, But we sat snug with fire and mug That kept us safe and warm. Such weather hardly can be mended When drinking is the thing intended; And such a night too soon is ended That kept us safe and warm. We left the inn where men can win A kindness born of ale, And with hearts made wise and merry eyes Went out into the gale. With joy between us like a tether We met the jolly English weather, In which the sun and wind together Go out to make a gale. We need not grieve the beer we leave Behind us in the bar; For every tree is drunk, and we Are even as they are. Though all must reel and some go under, We're not so drunk but we can wonder [40] A SONG OF DRUNKEN WEATHER To hear a drinking song like thunder About us where we are. We do not shrink to take our drink, And neither do the hills Who drank all night for their delight The flagons heaven fills. But nights of rain last not for ever; We're full as is the flooding river So thank our God the great drink giver, For all the pots He fills ! RAHAB I ONLY know that in an hour I lost All worth the saving, That life lies barren as a land in frost With bleak winds raving. And though kings kiss me wildly on the lips And load my fingers. They cannot pay me for my joy's eclipse Where no light lingers. You give me gold! But is that recompense, Sweet lord and lover? For that which I have given my innocence? Will you recover The happiness I had forever gone Since your eyes found me Walking my lonely gardens all alone, My dreams around me? But I may walk the leafy ways no more Of those dear gardens. . . . The door is shut. I cannot find the door. . . And my heart hardens. Desire, you said, would be a steady glow (Do you remember?) [42] RAHAB Kneel down again, and stretch your cheeks, and blow The failing ember ! The blaze is still alive? Let's hope the fire, Sweet lord and lover, Of Hell will warm us better than desire When life is over! f43] O FELIX CULPA! THEN gazed the wild-wood dumb with awe, Staring with eyeballs open wide On one grown conscious of a law And lifted suddenly to pride. The apex of creation in His shame, creation, envious sees > Magnificently robed with sin, Knowing the roots of mysteries. Hot-footed hurrying through the immense The winds their happy tidings tell, That man, exchanging innocence And gladly for the fires of hell Proves his long-boasted power to choose, To leave the good and take the ill; Free, with his soul to save or lose, By warrant of its royal will. But hidden from the awestruck eyes. Which see the sentenced rebels go, Are those tall towers of Paradise Where-through exultant rumours blow; [44] O FELIX GULP A! Where seated at the council board The Three-in-One debate Their plan, The Incarnation of the Word, The sorrows of the Son of Man. [45] CHIVALRY THY Chivalrous love Picked up my challenging glove, Which I, being young, Before Thy face had flung. Not always thus Is fortune given us; That our bodies feel The stroke of heavenly steel. Happily cross Swords with the Knight of Loss, And be overborne By His shield of blazoned thorn ! Suppose He turned Away, while my anger burned; And let me go, Not deigning my overthrow I But chivalry Fought and defeated me ; And generous God Smote, healing me with His rod. [46] PART II AUBADE HOW shall I waken love who sleeping lies? How call him to the windows of your eyes? How show him morning splendid with surprise? How shall I waken love who sleeping lies? How shall I waken love? He keeps his room More strictly than a dead man keeps his tomb Though song-birds sing in gardens bright with bloom ' How shall I waken love who sleeping lies? How shall I waken love? He lay asleep While in the skies the flocks of starry sheep The pale moon shepherded. Are dreams so deep? How shall I waken love who sleeping lies? How shall I waken love? If he awake What lyrics through our desolate hearts will break, Which thirst and hunger for his lovely sake ! How shall I waken love who sleeping lies? [49] THE LOVER'S SILENCE THE lute and starlight lyric these belong To love's novitiate of ardent song, When underneath your listening window stood A young man singing to your maidenhood. Only to see your face against the glass He waited patiently upon the grass; Only to see the gold moon gild your hair He sent his songs into the evening air. But when to love's still chamber he has come, His lyric lips with kisses are made dumb ; And beauty manifested rests above The sweet and perfect silence of his love. [50] SECRETS O LITTLE world, you are undone Your secrets flower on bush and tree, They glimmer in the morning sun And glitter on the sea ! From poet and philosopher You lock your treasured secrets up, Though shining on your breast you wear The golden buttercup. The clouds ride on from deep to deep And stars are in the windy sky But who can at their beauty leap And seize it fluttering by? Oh, how can one who has not heard The tender love she speaks to me, Hear all the love that merry bird Is singing on the tree? Or how can one who has not seen The look that yields her secret up See, shining on the meadows green, The golden buttercup. DESIDERAVI LEST, tortured by the world's strong sin, Her little bruised heart should die Give her your heart to shelter in, O earth and sky! Kneel, sun, to clothe her round about With rays to keep her body warm; And, kind moon, shut the shadows out That work her harm. Yes, even shield her from my will's Wild folly hold her safe and close 1 For my rough hand in touching spills Life from the rose. But teach me, too, that I may learn Your passion, classical and cool: To me, who tremble so and burn, Be pitiful 1 [52] IF EVER YOU COME TO DIE IF ever you come to die And the world should grow old Millions of years gone by Singly as sheep to their fold I think our burnt star would renew And enkindle to flame, If a memory lived of you Or if anyone spoke your name. The thin grey dust of your urn, The beauty asleep in your grave, Would flower the fields, and return Mighty in wind and wave, The cuckoo repeat his call, The chrysalis burst again, And laughter happily fall Through cities of buried men. God knows whether or not More than a carved stone shall tell Or a verse in a book forgot Of the lady I love so well : But I know that, her story lost, The earth must fade like a rose, [53] IF EVER YOU COME TO DIE Ruined by endless frost And gripped by pitiless snows But even were joy all gone As water from empty streams, If a poet musing alone Could fashion you out of his dreams; Though you were only a bodiless sprite Then, even then, for your sake Would death grow alive with delight And a lovely world awake. [54] DIRGE IF on a day it should befall That love must have her funeral; And men weep tears that love is dead, That never more her gracious head Can turn to meet their eyes and hold Their hearts with chains of silky gold; That never more her hands can be As dear as was virginity; That in her coffin there is laid Beauty, the body of a maid, The body of one so piteous-sweet, With candles burning at her feet And cowled monks singing requiem. . . . I think I would not go with them, Her lordly lovers, to the place Where lies that lovely mournful face, That curving throat and marvelous hair Under the sconces' yellow flare How shall a man be comforted When love is dead, when love is dead? But I would make my moan apart, Keeping my dreams within my heart [55] DIRGE For guarded as a sepulchre Shall be the house I built for her Of silver spires and pinnacles With carillons of mellow bells A house of song for her delight Whose joy was as the strong sunlight But now love's ultimate word is said, For love is dead, for love is deadl But even should all hope be lost, Some memory, like a thin white ghost, Might stealthily move in midnight hours Among those silent, sacred towers, And glimmer on the moonlit lawn Until the cold ironic dawn Arises from her saffron bed When love is dead, when love is dead. REMEMBRANCE LET not the world remember you, By any greater thing or less, Than that upon a reed I blew A song to praise your loveliness ! Let not the world remember me (If immortality should crown A line of verse, when empery In the vast waves of time goes down) By any greater thing or less Than one good song I made and sung To praise your love and loveliness, One evening when the world was young! CONQUERORS CONQUEROR! What can withstand thy patience, Time? When granite summits crumble grain by grain, And deserts gradually freeze with rime Our gates of brass are shut on thee in vain ! Conqueror! Who can outwit thy ambush, Death? Thy sword-stroke through the Knight's strong visor thrust Shatters the pillar of life ; none gainsayeth Thy ravenous worms at work amid the dust ! Conqueror! greater than these, victorious Love! Shall our glad lives hold aught else but thy fire Since in a triumph they thy chariot drove With Time and Death made captive to Desire ? [58] HOLIDAY WHEN every bird on every tree Has sung with all its might; When flowers amid the meadow grass Are growing in the light Let every heart that leaps at play Each butterfly a-wing, Rejoice to see a holiday, A holiday, a holiday, A happy hearted holiday, Because it is the Spring! When Christmas snows are on the roof, And little children sit, Eating their puddings and their pies Beneath the candles lit Since God was born on Christmas day, Let every girl and boy, Ring all the bells of holiday, Of holiday, of holiday, The jolly bells of holiday, That fill the world with joy. My love and I in autumn woods Sweet scented from the rain [59] HOLIDAY Once wandered for a holiday, A holiday, a holiday, When love went with us all the way, And led us back again. And though no Christmas snows that morn Lay on the fields so green, Yet God within our hearts was born The little lamb of God forlorn Because it was a holiday, A holiday, a holiday, The holy day of holiday, When love was in us born. UNUTTERED SHADE in the garden, Light on the hill Mirror your nature's Beautiful will. Silence and solitude Grow perfect and pass, As you come to me laughing Over the dew-wet grass. But how shall I utter Your loveliness, When the wind makes music With your rustling dress? What song of my singing Shall clothe you about, When night wraps you in silver As the stars come out? How shall I emulate The nightingale, Who melts you with tenderness In the moonlit vale? [61] UNUTTERED Love in its anguish Strives and is dumb, Waiting for fitting Words to come; Climbs in a spiral Upward and on Till the last lamp of the world Flickers and is gone ; Till the last star is quenched Below in the sky; Till we stand in immensity,- You and I ; Till we tread the ethereal Rapturous ways, And in heavenly language I tell your praise. [62] MARRIAGE SEEING what mighty men are turned to car- rion, I well may marvel at the audacious glove I flung in challenge, and at the ringing clarion I blew against the battlements of love. What ardours are they that should so embolden A man, that he can go up with dauntless breath, To burst the gates of life which though they be golden Are stronger than the iron doors of death? Now, turning back, I stand agape with wonder, Knowing the thing unwittingly I dared The blasphemy unanswered by the thunder, The Blade in scabbard and the blade unbared. For I have wrenched the gates and pillaged the city, A ruined heaven amid the ravaged skies, Only to find unfathomable pity Mute and unforgettable within your eyes. Loudly I shouted in my fantastic folly, Threatening Paradise with a pigmy sword [63] MARRIAGE A hearth and firelight, mistletoe and holly God gave me as ironical reward. Little I recked, who now behold with amazement The perilous journey that my soul has come, The vengeance heaven has taken of sweet abase- ment, The house where my soul, being satisfied, is dumb. The love we seize and the love that we surrender, These are no longer separate but the same For all the comforting air we breathe is tender With all the loveliness of Love's matchless name. N DIVORCE (Written in Separation) OW that I know that Chance can tear Our lives a little while apart, When I embrace the empty air. Who fain would hold you to my heart I deeplier know a deeper thing Than even this dividing sea, That cuts, as with a sabre-swing, The single selves of you and me. Beneath the shadow of divorce Our separated bodies lie: Dearest, we are one flesh. No force, No fate our vows can nullify. Around us little lusts decay, And undevoted pleasures tire, And satisfaction eats away The nerve and sinew of desire. We know that come what may of ill, What shame may stain, what storm may shake Our frail mortality that still Our mortal words shall never break. [65] DIVORCE There is no ocean strong enough To drag our plighted honour down, Which carries on great tides the love That many waters cannot drown. [66] FOR M. F. A. M. Born March 24th, 1919. NOT only names but armour Do I gird upon The tiny breast and shoulders Of my new-born son. Michael for the captain and leader Of God's glorious host, Who rides to battle with the sword Of the Holy Ghost. Felix for the Roman martyr Who drank of doom, As gaily as men drink of red wine In a supper-room. Antony who preached to the fishes Alive in the brook, To whom, while he read, the Child Jesus Came out from his book. Not only names but armour Have I girded on The tiny breast and shoulders Of my new-born son. [67] MICHAELMAS DAY (Written for my little son's first patronal feast.) THOUGH heavenly anvils forge their swords For your last spiritual campaign; Though muster the seraphic lords Against the mustering hosts profane; And though you pass in long review Your spearmen in their regiments, Marking the bows as you pass through, The disposition of the tents Yet (giving what the time allows From horsemen and from charioteer) Bend down your bright and burning brows; To lesser matters lend an ear. A silence in the skies be made, A pause before the clash of war, Ere grapple armies now arrayed Celestial and secular. . . . My little son to whom I gave Your name, angelic general Stand close beside him, quick to save, To hold his spirit lest it fall. [68] MICHAELMAS DAY Your sword bestow its accolade Upon his shoulders; may he wear Divinely smithied mail; a blade Of righteous anger let him bear. Among all men of women born, May he be signed upon the breast With heraldry of blazing scorn, With honour gleaming at his crest. With gentleness and chivalry Be he endowed; and may he keep Unspotted faith and chastity Till God give his beloved sleep. Then, Michael, bear him in your hands, His stainless sword and shield and plume; And stand beside him when he stands To plead upon the Day of Doom. [69] PART III SONNETS FROM AN UNFINISHED SEQUENCE IN those far solitudes where Beauty dwells, I heard you faintly ringing like a chime O'er twilit waters; and the distant bells Accorded with my heart as rhyme with rhyme. Then, cried I, by that elfin music blest, "Although I know not who or where you are, Now know I that my heart shall come to rest On yours at last beneath a happy star!" But night came down and I grew sore afraid Because the darkness silenced all the bells; And in the tangled thickets of that glade I trod the labyrinths of seven hells. . . . Until the day-star brought the carillon And made the belfry tremble into song. II When my heart's door in answer to your knocks Creaks on its rusty hinges, you will come Across the portals, darling paradox, Who are to my awakened life its sum [731 SONNETS FROM UNFINISHED SEQUENCE And summit, signal, starting-mark and goal, Its sword and armour, spur and golden prize - A gallant gonfalon unto the soul Who learns of honour from your humble eyes ! You are all beauty in epitome Feather from Gabriel's archangelic wing! Laughter and pain, delight and sanctity Walk with you, through your vagrant wander- ing Who carelessly give what God, ere time began, Wrote as His blessing for one lonely man. Ill If love be fixed beyond the reach of Fate; If Time's compelling summons and his sway Extend not to the lovers who obey A greater lord; if evil days abate No smallest tittle of their dear estate; If treason cannot trip them in the way; If deadliest dooms must make a vain essay To batter down love's barred and bolted gate Then even of this hath love such potency, That woes his subjects the more closely knit [74] SONNETS FROM UNFINISHED SEQUENCE And strengthen them in their adversity. But only lovers know the truth of it, Who, looking upward through the deep night, see The sky with all its blissful tapers lit. IV You, whom my hands have clothed and crowned with praise, Have charged your poet lover that he write Some word to tell how often there alight The bitter moods of your ungracious days Upon your gracious heart when all your ways Are set with snare and ambush; when, despite Your published honour, you yourself unite To treasonous folly that your worth betrays. Thus will I write it: generous and unjust, As I have known you, sweet capricious, true And fickle in a breath with flame and dust Mingled together seraph, saint and shrew In equal parts brave, palsied with mistrust Pitiful, cruel such, my sweet, are you I V No need has this deep love in me to speak Of you with fair and flattering falsity, [75] SONNETS FROM UNFINISHED SEQUENCE Yet honour lays its difficult charge on me That I among your imperfections seek (Please God and find it, too !) your perfect, meek And ardent soul. This for an augury I held, since one dim evening suddenly I saw your goodness naked on your cheek. With more than regent Spring's amazing green The woods, since then, have been to me aflame; From mystery you drew away the screen; The world began and ended when you came ; And sworn to newer fealty, O my Queen, The herald winds were clamant with your name! VI When our gay hearts have laid their glories down; When our young bodies mingle with the dust From which God made them tender and august; When I my singing robe and you your crown Have yielded up to wasting moth and rust; When even in our own familiar town Men mind not our mortality, I trust Our lives to live in more than their renown. SONNETS FROM UNFINISHED SEQUENCE For in our children's children love shall be Nobler for all the mighty love we knew; Holier for pity that has stirred in you, Stronger for patience that has grown in me; In unborn lovers shall our love renew Its mystery and magnanimity. VII When beauty doffs its mortal vestiture Wherewith its lovely spirit was arrayed; When time has dissipated light and lure From every golden head of every maid, Whose body with the loathly worm is laid; When these triumphant glories prove unsure How shall it fare with you? When these de- cayed Shall your weak flesh contrive that it endure? Lady, you are much greater than all those Who used their beauty in their power and pride Though such sad beauty be to you denied: For carried through the dark a lantern goes, And even now I see you glorified As you shall be when all the graves unclose, [77] SONNETS FROM UNFINISHED SEQUENCE VIII Beyond the accidents of time and sense Love's dim mysterious godhead strangely lies Hidden from all but faith's illumined eyes. What ear shall hear his ringing eloquence? What probing finger draw his substance thence? But we may sup the wine that satisfies, And smell the Mystic Rose. The flesh that dies May hold the deathless soul's magnificence. Adulterous race of Scribe and Pharisee, Shall any sign be given you to prove The risen body or the mystery That eats love's flesh and drinks the blood thereof ? Or any comfort save the blasphemy Which is the living gospel of our love. PART IV ANNUNCIATION NOW doth the chilly earth receive again Release from her long servitude to pain; For all the snows upon the frozen hills Melt, and descend exultant to the plain. Now o'er the earth a dress of green is cast Where'er the feet of Gabriel have passed; The woods and hedges quicken with their bloom Which winter had imprisoned and made fast. Through every trunk to every budding shoot The sap is rising into flower and fruit; And, prophesied by Sybil and by seer, A rod is growing out of Jesse's root! The annunciant angel bends upon his knee Before the virginal maternity That shall redeem the world! In equal joy The new leaves burst from shrub and bush and tree! For loveliness and laughter, these are hers- The early blossoms and the wind that stirs Among them and along the meadow grass ! The sun and moon are her bright ministers I [81] ANNUNCIATION The lark for happiness that sings aloud, The open sky, the white, soft-breasted cloud Unite to praise her name, with all the stars That stand upon the heavens in a crowd. Obedient to benignant Law's behest, The mating birds build cunningly their nest Wherein to welcome soon their unborn young And Mary walks with God beneath her breast! Now nature joins with her in wondering How could be brought to be this marvellous thing: A child conceived of her sweet maidenhood Prime miracle of this miraculous Spring I Now from a thousand woodlands notes there throng, The echoed notes of her celestial song, Rehearsal of their own Magnificat; "For He hath from their seats deposed the strong; "Broken the bands of winter on the earth; The humble hath exalted; filled the dearth Of hunger!" Shall not all the world be glad With Mary, hearing of the promised birth? [82] ANNUNCIATION The whole creation rises up to bless Its God, in her amazing sinlessness Crying, "My soul doth magnify the Lord, Who looked upon His handmaid's lowliness 1" And when the waking spring shall symbolise Her Spirit's exaltation and surprise If our eyes should be open, we may see The Holy Ghost Who shines within her Eyes! [83] SIMPLICITY To that to which a thing cannot attain by its own nature, it must be directed by another ; thus, an arrow is shot by the archer towards a mark. Hence, properly speaking, a rational creature, capable of eternal life, is led towards it, as it were, directed by God. ST. THOMAS AQUINAS, Part I, Question XXIII, Art. I, of the Summa. THE heavenly Archer an arrow shot, Speeding it straight on its splendid course, Till it hit the mark of the centre spot, And dug deep in with eager force. Thus is the soul feathered safe and true, Unswerved by the wind nor falling wide, Obeying the Archer's eye and thew And seeking no other mark in pride. But give the arrow a mind and will; Does it fly as shot from the loosened string? Can the seasoned bow and the Archer's skill Direct the wild and wayward thing? If distracted by complexity, A hundred targets it seeks at once, Is God at default in His archery? Shall He or the arrow be thought the dunce? [84] SIMPLICITY If simple and single the arrow yield To the heavenly bow and heavenly aim, It shall split the wand across the field And win the honours of the game 1 MEEKNESS UPON the Cross, as on a bed, He lay; and not a word He said A lamb as to the slaughter led. What pride can stand against such meekness? What strength can overthrow such weakness? "Thy will not mine accomplished be" But more than pain accepted He Between the thieves on Calvary. His loneliness and dereliction Is Agony's complete perfection. Then rang across the fearful sky The blasphemous and bitter cry, Lama, Lama Sabacthanaif Darkened the sun ; the moon was shaken To see their God by God forsaken. For never since the world began Had God forsaken any man Till Christ was laid beneath His ban When by the Father unbefriended The stricken Son to hell descended. [86] MEEKNESS No consolation could He have Who bore our sins our souls to save, Who passed, unanswered, to the grave. What pride can stand against such meekness? What strength can overthrow such weakness? [*7] PATIENCE Take heed and be quiet; fear not, neither let thine heart be faint . . . because Syria hath counselled evil against thee. Ephraim also, and the son of Remaliah. Is. VH, 4-5. LET patience have her perfect work, Whose strength in quietness shall be Though eyes are bandaged lest they see Their God amid the desolate murk. Though the abyss should ope its brink Yet headlong I shall never sink If patience hath her perfect work. Syria and Israel with their kings, Two tails of smoking firebrands, flared; But strong in hope my spirit dared Accomplishment of hopeless things. For with my broken strength renewed I do not fear your bitter feud, Syria and Israel and your kings! For if the God of patience gave Such years of patience unto one Who stoned the prophets of His Son, And slew the Son as a shameful Slave How patient must I be with Him, In all His dealings strangely dim, For all the patience that He gave ! [88] TEMPERANCE WHAT judgment and authority Must hold the balanced mean, Hung on a hair, so daintily, A difficult point and keen The weight will drop beneath the touch Of one small grain of dust too much! A perilous adventure this To which our feet are led, The line 'yond which our joy and bliss Are snared and surfeited Let not a coward soul aspire To gain a satisfied desire. Yet foolish he who would forego The use, for fear abuse Should lure him to his overthrow For such an one must lose The honour and the hearty zest, Attendant always on the quest. No easy thing he may expect, No beaten road and tame, [89] TEMPERANCE Who seeks to save a heaven wrecked By hell's infernal flame, When virtue armoured cap-a>-pie Rides out with Law and Liberty. [90] CHASTITY hearts grow old, and of experience They come at last to tire, Longing in vain for their lost innocence And for a new desire. Ox We see it in a child's unclouded eyes As their most lovely grace, And are abashed when that strange aura lies Upon a human face. Yet such are relative, for to the fruit Eve stretched her hand and ate In one alone is seen the Absolute, Surnamed Immaculate. The beasts, unconscious of a mystery, Can freely take their fill: But man is troubled by virginity, Whose hunger haunts him still. O, good and evil mingled in that bough Among its clustered gold ! O, sweet and bitter banquet then as now! O, hearts grown grey and old ! [90 CHASTITY O, blessed paradox of pain and loss! O, Phoenix from the fire ! O, heavenly ore refined from human dross I O, innocent desire ! [9*] THE MANICHEE WOULD you then shatter the mould of the universe? Shake off the dust Of this evil world from your feet with a curse ; Its laughter and lust Break through as a fetter; and seek a release For your dungeoned soul? Wing straight to impalpable regions of peace? Be at one with the whole Of the pure and ethereal spirit that moves Through time and the deep? Know for treacherous shadows the dreams of loves Born of life's sleep, Where (paradox!) consciousness blindly descends On flesh for a spell, Making havoc of will, when the Absolute ends Our heaven in hell?" "Can you tell such as I where such seeming may be, Draw the curtain, unfold The secret of rapture, point the pathway for me To the city of gold [93] THE MANICHEE Lying firm on eternity pinnacles, spires Upthrusted in air, Gates broad to my entering?" "Leave your desires ! Know ugly for fair! . . . Consider the lazar's foul suppurate skin, His desolate eye Is he less for his sores? Is his spirit within Less perfect thereby? Let him scorn his material ills, nor perplex The powers of his mind With anguish for sins. If mortality vex, Let him push it behind!" "What if in reaching to God to Him you de- clare The soul should reject The aids He has left us, the many-runged stair Which the senses erect See not or touch not or hear not with awe The glory bestowed In the good of the earth ; lose by breaking the law The use of the road?" [94] THE MANICHEE "Crass folly ! Mind tangled and snared in the net By her pinioned wings In a sensual bondage arise and forget Earth's loveliest things Not as types to be taken, as some will aver, To an archetype hid In the chaos of God, where no movement can stir That pure darkness amid. The glittering world was contrived in deceit, To allure and betray, By the Lord of the Pit that man's journeying feet Might wander astray. Yet while bound to the body, man freely may pass Secure and exempt From the woes of the flesh for since flesh is but grass, The devils that tempt His body to joy, be they not overcome (Let him strive if he can!) No matter ! they shall not detract from the sum Of the stature of man! Hence to conclude, let him play if he will With the figment of flesh; [95] THE MANICHEE His scorn for its wiles brings escape from the ill And its power to enmesh. Does he fear what is impotent, worthless? Mis- trust Shakes his soul like the wind. But let him despise in the using of lust His body has sinned While the soul is untouched by " "The soul is maligned By the doctrine you preach Which makes it much less than God made it! O blind, Can your fingers not reach, To the marvellous triple-fold nature of man, Conjointed of soul And spirit and body, whose parts cannot span The depth of the whole. For soul working upwards gain? through its allies Wide kingdoms of joy, Attained through the zest of the mind and the eyes Which the flesh may employ. And flesh touching a feather or leaf or a clod, With a voice in its ears [96] THE MANICHEE Of challenge, comes up to the threshold of God; Slips past the sharp spears Of the sentinel angels who cannot withstand The force of that word (Though it be but a man's). For as in a green land Rings the song of a bird, So sweet shall man's speech be in God's ears, and climb To the roof of His throne, Whether uttered by sweat or by war, or by rhyme Or chiselled in stone! And if by man's labour is worship expressed, When he eats or he drinks God's will he fulfils, as in beating his breast For his sins, then methinks The world has its ritual also, for night And the vestmented sun Perform in the view of the cosmos their rite ; The fruitful hills run Abounding with symbols and signs of His power, When the scattered seed dies, To rise in its spring from the dead with the power [97] THE MANICHEE For which death was the price. So God shall accept what the grateful earth brings As praise to His name, And through channels of all the material things Blow his quickening flame. From out of the wheat takes He flesh, from the vine His chalice of blood; Man's service confirms He with oil for a sign ; And laves in the flood Of the rivers and fountains man's primal dark sin Conveying His grace By these (you say evil) means, drawing man in To the peace of His face. Beyond such explicit outpourings of love, His blessings are shed, Borne on the invisible wings of the Dove, To the sweet marriage bed Of those who (a blasphemy) learn to attain With a clasp and a kiss ! Like the brute and the bird they will eat, yet are fain Of the summits of bliss. [98] THE MANICHEE They will reach what they seek for (let this be the test!) By their senses' desire, And find hidden in lips and the curve of the breast Heaven's mystical fire. So if his Creator has thought it no shame That a man should rejoice In the beauty of woman give praise to His name, Exultant in voice! One word ere my Credo is brought to a close : Though your eyes may be sealed To the loveliness fresh every day on the rose Or the grass of the field Despising (it may be) the moon and each star Alight in the skies Which you scorn as impostures, though noble they are God open your eyes, If for only an instant, to see a Child laid Asleep on the straw, While oxen adore Him, the Son of the Maid, And kneel in their awe; [99] THE MANICHEE While the angels proclaim to the listening earth That God has been born, That the Word is made flesh. . . . Go and weep in your mirth, At the end to your scorn ! [100] THE IMAGE OF GOD THIS is the tale of His creations: first When from the dust of earth, not yet ac- curst, He fashioned man. Next when from God there burst Breathed as a sigh a singing star, a soul, Wherewith man might perceive, desire, control His destiny, conform unto the whole Transcendent purpose of his place on earth: Bring forth his kind to uncorrupted birth, Touch God in mystery, and Eve in mirth. But when the plan was shattered by the taste Of sweet revolt, the Image was defaced And Eden with a sword was made a waste. Long aeons through, God strove by pestilence And prophecy to bring to penitence Him who had lost his ancient innocence. Long aeons through He failed (though man was His, Marked with the Godhead's mark, with tears "and bliss, Disquietude and arts and silences) ; hoi] THE IMAGE OF GOD Until, reversing His frustrated plan, He broke Himself the barriers of His ban Since man escaped Him, God became a man. This was the third creation: born a Child. The soul of man with God was reconciled, The soul defiled with flesh the undefiled. (For in His childish wailings were implied His human pain and weariness, the wide Lent of temptation and the Crucified.) Lastly the body was redeemed when He Shattered the gravestones piled immovably: This mortal put on immortality. But we know nothing of our past; we guess At what we were ; our troubled longings bless Our hearts with happiness and homesickness. Nor can our keen imaginations say What we shall be; none knows the secret way Our flesh shall walk on Resurrection Day. Yet are we comforted by mystery, The promise of perfection for we see Man taken up into the Deity. [102] FALLAD OF CHRISTMAS NIGHT WILL you open to a lost stranger?" I cried, as I knocked on the door. "Will you open to one who has wandered Three hours and more on the moor?" No answer replied to the darkness, Save the steady drip of the rain. But I, who saw light through the keyhole, Knocked again . . . again. . . . Then one spoke and bade me enter. "I know not the way I roam." And a young girl spoke to me gently, "Here all men are at home." In the rays of a single lantern A child wrapped in swaddling clothes I saw, An old man, and stalls of cattle That bit at the bundles of straw. The girl's eyes gave me welcome To that stable cold and dim. Her lips said, "Sir, are you one who has come To worship Him?" BALLAD OF CHRISTMAS-NIGHT "For your courtesy I thank you, lady, In this stable cold and dim. But what folly is this? Why should I kneel And worship Him?" "This is He Who is by highest heaven Eternally adored. . . . Unto us a Child is given, Emmanuel, Christ the Lord." I laughed on hearing her folly; I laughed at a thing absurd, Believing not the word that was spoken By the mother of the Word. Then though the night was bitter And sleet fell with the rain I left them as blasphemous fools, and went Out into the night again. . . . While I wandered the hills in the darkness, Towards the break of day, Shepherds cried, "Sir, we seek a new-born child And his mother. Know you the way?" I said, being hungry and angry, "How should I know the way? [104] BALLAD OF CHRISTMAS-NIGHT Many a woman has borne a child On Christmas Day!" They only smiled, and answered, "The child we seek is laid In a stable, wrapped in swaddling clothes, And is the son of a maid." I laughed on hearing their folly; I laughed at a thing absurd, Believing not the word they had spoken Or the mother of the Word. And suddenly a multitude of angels Sang, as they circled us, Gloria in excelsis Deo Et pax hominibus. . . . I led the way back for the shepherds To that stable cold and dim, And wept as I said, "Lady, We have come to worship Him." [105] PART V TO THE EASTER DEAD (1918) LET no lip call on sorrow ! These abide Immortal this heroic Easter morn (O happiest, holiest hearts of women born!) Who crowned our England with a deathless pride, When in an hour ten thousand young men died With simple valour and with simple scorn; When from the fields of battle, red and torn Above the guns the voice of glory cried: They are not dead who rendered up their breath In this tremendous agony of bliss ! They are not dead; No shadow summoneth Their shining souls to its obscure abyss ! They are not dead whom an undying death Hath married to herself with such a kiss I [109] TO FRANCE O MISTRESS of the vine and song and dance, Who knows thee only in thy revelry, Knows not the majesty that dwells in France Guardian of honour and of liberty! To thy great fashioning all great things come : Laughter of Rabelais and the Maid's lance hand; The saints and poets of our Christendom, Were melted for the minting of thy land. The tumbrils full of cargoes of high kings Creaked slowly up the long and dreadful way, When, grown as vain as fools' imaginings, The world was burnt as stubble in a day. Still in the air thy lordly eagle sits, Who fears no heat or light of any sun; Did he not spread his wings o'er Austerlitz, Where ended what at Valmy was begun? Can one thing from the earth's strong story thrive, While stands the granite of the black Bastille Or if that France that kept our souls alive, Be trampled by the proud barbarian's heel? [no] THE PARADOX OF VICTORY (For the Fourth Anniversary of War.) HOW shall we live who look, O Lord, Upon the anger of Thy Face? How shall we dare to draw the sword Unless Thy Mercy give us Grace? How shall we see Ithuriel's spear, Or Michael's shield ablaze with stars, Or watch the hosts go up, or hear The challenges of Thy great Wars? For we have sinned, and kept apart The opposites that mix and run Together though within Thy heart Pity and wrath are fused in one I The dread ineffable I AM To His confounding conflict goes : The valour of the wounded Lamb The roaring lion overthrows ! Oh, dark mysterious Irony That laughs to scorn the mighty Kings, And panoplies with victory The last and least of earth's weak things! [in] THE PARADOX OF VICTORY But Thou despite our weary pride Didst give us O Magnanimous ! A cause for which our young men died And brought our honour back to us: To us, grown sick with years of ease, Thy loud and ringing summons came, With passion lovelier than peace, With folly nobler than our fame. But humble us that we may win Our glorious goal of enterprise; Lest, unrepentant of our sin, We lose the vision in our eyes. [112] THE LAST CRUSADE BEHOLD a paradox ! The crescent moon Above these holy hills is on the wane, Where once the shuddering, awe-struck sun at noon Hid his bright face before a young man slain ! Here for redemption of the sepulchre, Wherein the murdered Prince of Life was laid, Crusaders rode and sang the name of her Who gave the Word His body from a Maid. Lewis the Saint of thorns and knotted cord Here failed, although his heart grew clean and large; Yet honour glittered on a Christian sword When Richard led his barons to the charge. Now is attained the goal of fruitless years; And from their graves the royal ghosts arise, And marshal horsemen with invisible spears And happy hunger in their hollow eyes. For in that quiet town of Nazareth Where heaven was conscious in a growing boy, THE LAST CRUSADE Walked its white streets, and drew of human breath Ere Golgotha made an end of Mary's joy The last crusade, on this heroic day, The banners and the arms of Christendom Carries to victory, while the nations pray, "Thy kingdom come on earth, Thy kingdom come." THE CITY OF THE DEAD BENEATH your carven cross of stone, Lie still within your house of clay, In this grey city, all your own. . . . Above amid the light of day, Men trudge their dull and dusty round, And count their gold and sell their shame, While you in glory underground Live with an unforgotten name. O ghosts of all the million dead Whose hearts are empty and forlorn For women you can never wed And children never to be born Remember that your sacrifice Has brought a ransomed world to birth, And that your dying was the price Of all the good that lives on earth. Remember that the soil you keep Is English soil, the soil of home, The silent city of your sleep Renowned like Athens or like Rome THE CITY OF THE DEAD For we remember it, and hold The sacred graveyards where you lie As English as the wood and wold You loved before you came to die ! [II*] THE NEW WORLD WITH what strange markings shall the world arise? Made new and lovely to our waiting eyes? Or stagger forth decrepit, grey and old, Among a crowd of men whose hearts are cold With love of gain and luxury and ease? Shall we adventure on heroic seas And find a new Atlantis in the main Or pass, our ardent agonies grown vain, Into a night of dense obscurity Oblivious of our splendid history? But I who sing where the two roads divide Of that dear hope for which our young men died Freedom and honour made secure on earth Behold the vast titanic pangs of birth Racking the body of the Universe; And, seeing them, I know the apparent curse Under whose ban we lie will pass away; That even now the footsteps of the day Thunder along the immemorial hills. THE NEW WORLD But, knowing it, I know our weary wills Must gird themselves again with might, that we May fit our souls to drink of liberty. [118] PART VI SIX EPITAPHS For a Minor Poet who - (And Lord! what lies and legends folks could tell Of one whom duns and devils drove to hell Which is the reason, lest the world should laugh, That he discreetly writes his epitaph!) It may be claimed that to the very end He kept the heart of every splendid friend, And he had many; that he would not do Some things though he had vices not a few; [125] SIX EPITAPHS That though despair closed in and held him fast He kept his foolish courage to the last, And joy alive . . . that much he well may claim For this poor fellow who has borne his name. [126] PART VII AN INSCRIPTION WRITTEN WITH A NEW FOUNTAIN PEN USED FOR THE FIRST TIME TO what less worthy uses shall This Pen Be driven when I take It up again? But now with Its virginity I write A sentence that shall keep your memory bright. If afterwards It lose Its Eden, falling To disrepute and infamy appalling, Yet Its existence hcis been justified (If only for an instant). For with pride It well may ponder in base dotage : Song For one glad moment did to me belong And I / swell to think of it once moved To praise the lady that my master loved. [129] THE DENIAL DENYING beauty, on we go and on Into the sandy desert of the mind Where no tree grows, no fruitful thing or kind. The mirage of reality is gone The instant that we look at it. We find No resting-place. The moon that last night shone, The naked moon has no pavilion In which to hide. The sun has made us blind. The sun can cast no shadow on the grass. No moonlight trembles through the twisted boughs. All is as blatant and as bright as brass, A clarity without perspective. Lost! . . . Amid a wilderness without a house . . . Stripped of the mysteries of clouds and frost 1 A FISHERMAN'S STORY IN waters deep and dim The fishes glance and glide, Or by the lake's green rim 'Neath roots of rushes hide. They rise to snatch a fly; They leap into the air: The ripples fade and die And are not anywhere. I steal my fingers in; I touch a gleaming scale, A swift, elusive fin, The flicker of a tail. Sometimes (more luck than skill I) I bring a live fish out, My happy fingers thrill With gold-fish or with trout. But oh, the fish I lose! The silver scales and gold I The thousands in the ooze For every one I hold 1 BALLADE OF BEELZEBUB IT'S not that you've been rude to me a bit Indeed, your charming courtesies compel My clumsy thanks, and all the rest of it. I've dined at your expense; the Muscatel Was excellent and had no parallel. I never tasted better Caviare; But (pardon me for using doggerel) But who the devil do you think you are ? I recognize your aphoristic wit. Your grammar's good ; and you can even spell. Infinitives by you are never split; And you can turn a sonnet very well. At ballades, why, at ballades you excel (I wish I did!) ; I'd have to travel far To find a smarter literary swell But who the devil do you think you are? I'd like you better rising from the Pit With horns and cloven hoofs and horrid yell Than here, where the electric light is lit, And where a button somehow rings a bell In this luxurious up-to-date hotel BALLADE OF BEELZEBUB The smoke that's curling from your good cigar Dispells the brimstone's more obnoxious smell But who the devil do you think you are ? ENVOI Prince of the Darkness, Lord of hate and hell, Who dropped from heaven blazing like a star, You say you've heard I have a soul to sell . . . But who the devil do you think you arje ? [133] BALLADE OF A LOST ROAD * IT was in ways beset with gloom, Where tangle branches overhead Of trees whereon no blossoms bloom Save those which are already dead, That some malignant spirit led My steps astray, and did entice Me down to where all hopes are sped I lost the road to Paradise. Calamitous that day of doom When Eden's apples glistened red, And Eva whispered to her groom Of what the lying Serpent said I O, sour the fruit on which they fed Which they had thought as sweet as spice I When Eden was untenanted I lost the road to Paradise. * This ballade was written, with a refrain agreed upon by us, in a poetic bout with Mr. Charles Williams. It is hardly necessary to say that his was a much better ballade. St. Bonaventure and St. Thomas Aquinas were commissioned to write an office for the newly instituted Feast of Corpus Christi. When the two doctors came to read their versions to the adjudicating commission the lot fell to St. Thomas to read his version first. As he reached each new part of the office St. Bonaventure tore his own version up, so that when St. Thomas had reached the end, all St. Bonaventure had to show was a pile of pieces that had been his manuscript. I should have followed his example but alas, I am not a saint! [134] BALLADE OF A LOST ROAD I sat within the Upper Room; 'Twas I who took the sop of bread; I sealed the ineffective tomb ; I trembled for my skin and fled; I stood and mocked Him while he bled; And for His coat I rattled dice; I tore it into strip and shred; I lost the road to Paradise. ENVOI Prince of the Portals, I have plead With naught of cunning or device My rags of poor excuse are shed I lost the road to Paradise. [135] BEAUTY BENEATH WHOSE HAND . . . BEAUTY, beneath whose hand we make All that is noble in our lives, When passionate desires awake And will, grown energetic, strives We hear the doom and dread decree Thou sendest forth to pleasure thee. Denied and dear and perilous I Our first, our last, our mightiest love I Brooking no rival, tyrannous As all thy votaries can prove Who, loving thee, have lived and died With their desire unsatisfied. We choose thee and thou sendest pain; We seek thee and thou tarriest long; Thou takest toll of nerve and brain, And tears are in our happiest song; Our hopeless ardours are content Rewarded by their punishment. But they who fainted in the quest, Like those who bartered thee for gold, Cry out from their unquiet rest, BEAUTY BENEATH WHOSE HAND . . . "Bring back, bring back the days of old The days of rapturous agony!" Be still. Decay. It may not be. From pang to sharper pang we go, With burning hearts and bleeding feet, From woeful bliss to blissful woe Till Beauty, from her heavenly seat Bends down to heal us, breaks her rod, And blinds us with the face of God. [137] EPILOGUE GREAT joy is his who has been doomed from birth To seek the glittering shadow of that beauty Which God has cast upon the minds of men, Whereof He is at once the object shadowed, And the intolerable light that casts The semblance of itself upon the world. Great joy is his, hunger unsatisfied, An exultation o'er the thing discovered, A fiercer exultation o'er the thing concealed From his adventurous and happy heart. For well he knows that his felicities Of form and colour or of haunted music Are but uncertain shadows of a shadow. He chooses rhymes that he may make them ring In correspondence with the eternal Word, Like bells to answer those celestial belfries Whose chimes he faintly heard in faded dreams. His rhythms are the faltering counterpart Of that ineffable beauty that declares The orderings of intellectual law, Self-evident, incomprehensible. [138] EPILOGUE Great joy in his who finds in human love The image of unconsummated bliss, The peace of God that passeth understanding; Whoever in his mortal marriage hungers To eat the marriage supper with the Lamb, According to his ardour is he aware Of beauty perishable, inviolate Perishable as the fleshly husk decays, Inviolate spiritual virginity, Which shall effect for body and for soul A pure and perfect ravishment of desire. Great joy is his, forever unsatisfied, His happiness made sharp by lonely longing, Until a blinding beauty burn his eyes And cleanse his wild astonished heart with pas- sion. , UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY This book is DUE on the last date stamped below UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT . lll I PR 6025 M454 1