PR. J Cornell University Library PR 4202.H83 1893 The Agamemnon of Aeschylus ; La Saisiaz ; A $&UU^.I*- 3 1924 006 514 628 DATE DUE I -——... flftl. _-j I*CD&1 ( CAVLORO PRINTED INU.B A. The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924006514628 ftitoergita <£i>ition THE POETIC AND DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BROWNING IN SIX VOLUMES VOLUME VI. THE AGAMEMNON OF ^SCHYLUS LA SAISIAZ: THE TWO POETS OF CROISIC: DRAMATIC IDYLS: JOCO- SERIA: FERISHTAH'S FANCIES AND PARLEYINGS BY ROBERT BROWNING WITH THE AUTHOR'S LATEST CORRECTIONS ^ £ BOSTON AND NEW YORK /.. HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANV, 1893 «V ''■ 'i 4s \ V ■ ■*«■#* ■ -— ^ - '///;, ril'A' 1 ** 1 6 7930 V^« ■■■ "'"itltltHM^ TJie Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. Electrotyped and Printed by H. 0. Houghton & Company. 9 «*«" i% * ,u, !!ii, .U\V* ■''Wit, ■;\ & //■ > ., ., ;,%; Ai>W-> %, f * V i V \< k V'^ _ CONTENTS PAGE Tan Agamemnon op .3Sschylus 1 La Saisiaz 53 The Two Poets of Ckoisic 77 Dramatic Idyls : First Series. Martin Relph 117 Pheidippides 124 Halbert and Hob 128 IvXn Ivanovitch 131 Tray 142 Ned Bratts 143 Dramatic Idyls : Second Series. Prologue 153 Echetlos 153 Clive 154 MuLEYKEH 163 Pietro of Abano 167 Doctor 181 Pan and Luna 188 Touch him ne'er so lightly 191 Jocoseria. Wanting is — What? . 193 Donald 193 Solomon and Balkis 200 Cristina and Monaldesohi 202 Mary Wollstonecraft and Fuseli 206 Adam, Lilith, and Eve 207 Ixion 207 Jochanan Hakkadosh 211 Never the Time and the Place .... 235 Pambo 235 Ferishtah's Fancies. Prologue 239 The Eagle 24Q vi CONTENTS The Melon-Seller 241 Shah Abbas 242 The Family 246 The Sun 248 Mihkab Shah 253 A Camel-Driver 257 Two Camels 260 Cherries 263 Plot- Culture 265 A Pillar at Sebzevar 267 A Bean-Stripe: also Apple-Eating 271 Epilogue 283 Parleyings with Certain People of Importance in their Day. Apollo and the Fates 285 With Bernard de Mandevtlle 295 With Daniel Bartoli 308 With Christopher Smart 312 With George Bubb Doddington ... . . 319 With Francis Furini 328 With Gerard de Lairesse 343 With Charles Avison 354 Fcst and his Friends: an Epilogue 366 Fragments. Ben Karshook's Wisdom 385 Qh Love ! Love 386 Helen's Tower 386 The Founder or the Feast 387 Why I am a Liberal 387 Index of First Lines 389 General Index of Titles 394 THE AGAMEMNON OF iESCHYLUS Mat I be permitted to chat a little, by way of recreation, at the end of a somewhat toilsome and perhaps fruitless ad- venture ? If, because of the immense fame of the following Tragedy, I wished to acquaint myself with it, and could only do so by the help of a translator, I should require him to be literal at every cost save that of absolute violence to our language. The use of certain allowable constructions which, happening to be out of daily favor, are all the more appropriate to archaic workman- ship, is no violence : but I would be tolerant for once — in the case of so immensely famous an original — of even a clumsy attempt to furnish me with the very turn of each phrase in as Greek a fashion as English will bear : while, with respect to am- plifications and embellishments, — anything rather than, with the good farmer, experience that most signal of mortifications, " to gape for iEschylus and get Theognis." I should especially decline — what may appear to brighten up a passage — the employment of a new word forborne old one, — ttovos, or /niyas, or tc\os, with its congeners, recurring four times in three lines : for though such substitution may be in itself perfectly justifiable, yet this exercise of ingenuity ought to be within the competence of the unaided English reader if he likes to show himself in- genious. Learning Greek teaches Greek, and nothing else : certainly not common sense, if that have failed to precede the teaching. Further, — if I obtained a mere strict bald version of thing by thing, or at least word pregnant with thing, I should hardly look for an impossible transmission of the reputed magni- loquence and sonority of the Greek ; and this with the less regret, inasmuch as there is abundant musicality elsewhere, but nowhere else than in his poem the ideas of the poet. And lastly, when presented with these ideas, I should expect the result to prove very hard reading indeed if it were meant to resemble iEschylus, £v(i/3akeiv ov paStos, " not easy to understand," in the opinion of his stoutest advocate among the ancients ; while, I suppose, even modern scholarship sympathizes with that early declaration of the redoubtable Salmasius, when, looking about for an ex- ample of the truly obscure for the benefit of those who found 2 THE AGAMEMNON OF MSCHYLUS obscurity in the sacred books, he protested that this particular play leaves them all behind in this respect, with their " He- braisms, Syriasms, Hellenisms, and the whole of such bag and baggage."* For, over and above the purposed ambiguity of the Chorus, the text is sadly corrupt, probably interpolated, and certainly mutilated; and no unlearned person enjoys the scholar's privilege of trying his fancy upon each obstacle when- ever he comes to a stoppage, and effectually clearing the way by suppressing what seems to lie in it. All I can say for the present performance is, that I have done as I would be done by, if need were. Should anybody, without need, honor my translation by a comparison with the original, I beg him to observe that, following no editor exclusively, I keep to the earlier readings so long as sense can be made out of them, but disregard, I hope, little of importance in recent criticism so far as I have fallen in with it. Fortunately, the poorest trans- lation, provided only it be faithful, — though it reproduce all the artistic confusion of tenses, moods, and persons, with which the original teems, — will not only suffice to display what an eloquent friend maintains to be the all-in-all of poetry — " the action of the piece " — but may help to illustrate his assurance that "the Greeks are the highest models of expression, the un- approached masters of the grand style : their expression is so excellent because it is so admirably kept in its right degree of prominence, because it is so simple and so well subordinated, because it draws its force directly from the pregnancy of the matter which it conveys . . . not a word wasted, not a senti- ment capriciously thrown in, stroke' on stroke ! " f So may all happen ! Just a word more on the subject of my spelling — in a tran- script from the Greek and there exclusively — Greek names and places precisely as does the Greek author. I began this practice, with great innocency of intention, some six-and-thirty years ago. Leigh Hunt, I remember, was accustomed to speak of his gratitude, when ignorant of Greek, to those writers (like Goldsmith) who had obliged him by using English characters, so that he might relish, for instance, the smooth quality of such a phrase as " hapalunetai galene" ; " he said also that Shelley was indignant at " Firenze " having displaced the Dantesque "Fiorenza," and would contemptuously English the intruder ex- Quis -35schylum possit affirmare Grseoe nunc seienti magls patere c ~ plioabilem quam Evangelia aut Epistolas Apostolicas ? Unus ejus Aga- memnon obscuritate superat quantum est librorum sacrorum cum suis He- braismis et Syriasmis et tota Hellenistic* suppellectili vel farragine. Salmasius de Hettenistica, Epist. Dedic. t Poems by Matthew Arnold, Preface. THE AGAMEMNON OF MSCHYLTJS 3 " Firence." I supposed I was doing a simple thing enough : but there has been lately much astonishment at os and us, ai and oi, representing the same letters in Greek. Of a sudden, however, whether in translation or out of it, everybody seems committing the offence, although the adoption of u for v still presents such difficulty that it is a wonder how we have hitherto escaped " Eyripides." But there existed a sturdy Briton who, Ben Jonson informs us, wrote " The Life of the Emperor Anthony Pie " — whom we now acquiesce in as Antoninus Pius : for " with time and patience the mulberry leaf becomes satin." Yet there is on all sides much profession of respect for what Keats called " vowelled Greek " — " consonanted," one would expect ; and, in a criticism upon a late admirable transla- tion of something of my own, it was deplored that, in a certain verse corresponding in measure to the fourteenth of the sixth Pythian Ode, " neither Professor Jebb in his Greek, nor Mr. Browning in his English, could emulate that matchlessly musical yovov iZwv koXKuttov avSpiov." Now, undoubtedly, " Seeing her son the fairest of men " has more sense than sound to boast of : but then, would not an Italian roll us out " Rimirando il figliuolo bellissimo degli uomini ? " whereat Pindar, no less than Pro- fessor Jebb and Mr. Browning, TpiaKi-i/pos ot^erai tv)(<1iv. It is recorded in the Annals of Art * that there was once upon a time, practising so far north as Stockholm, a painter and pic- ture-cleaner — sire of a less unhappy son — Old Muytens : and the annalist, Baron de Tesse', has not concealed his profound dissatisfaction at Old Muytens' conceit " to have himself had something to do with the work of whatever master of eminence might pass through his hands." Whence it was — the Baron goes on to deplore — that much detriment was done to that ex- cellent piece " The Recognition of Achilles," by Rubens, through the perversity of Old Muytens, " who must needs take on him to beautify every nymph of the twenty by the bestowment of a widened eye and an enlarged mouth." I, at least, have left eyes and mouths everywhere as I found them, and this conservatism is all that claims praise for — what is, after all, d/ceXcvo-Tos a/jLia-Ooq aoiSd. No, neither " uncommanded " nor " unre- warded : " since it was commanded of me by my venerated friend Thomas Carlyle, and rewarded will it indeed become, if I am permitted to dignify it by the prefatory insertion of his dear and noble name. R. B. London, October 1, IS??. * Lettres 4 un jenne Prince, traduites du Sue'dois. AGAMEMNON PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. Wakdek. Agamemnon. Chokos of Old Men. Aigisthos. Klutalmnestka. Kassandba. Talthubios, Herald. WARDER. The gods I ask deliverance from these labors, Watch of a year's length whereby, slumbering through it On the Atreidai's roofs on elbow, — dog-like — I know of nightly star-groups the assemblage, And those that bring to men winter and summer, Bright dynasts, as they pride them in the aather — Stars, when they wither, and the uprisings of them. And now on ward I wait the torch's token, The glow of fire, shall bring from Troia message And word of capture : so prevails audacious The man's-way-planning hoping heart of woman. But when I, driven from night-rest, dew-drenched, hold to This couch of mine — not looked upon by visions, Since fear instead of sleep still stands beside me, So as that fast I fix in sleep no eyelids — And when to sing or chirp a tune I fancy, For slumber such song-remedy infusing, I wail then, for this House's fortune groaning, Not, as of old, after the best ways governed. Now, lucky be deliverance from these labors, At good news — the appearing dusky fire ! O hail, thou lamp of night, a day-long lightness Revealing, and of dances the ordainment ! Halloo, halloo ! To Agamemnon's wife I show, by shouting, That, from bed starting up at once, i' the household Joyous acclaim, good-omened to this torch-blaze, She send aloft, if haply Ilion's city Be taken, as the beacon boasts announcing. Ay, and, for me, myself will dance a prelude, AGAMEMNON For, that my masters' dice drop right, I '11 reckon : Since thrice-six has it thrown to me, this signal. "Well, may it hap that, as he comes, the loved hand O' the household's lord I may sustain with this hand ! As for the rest, I 'm mute : on tongue a big ox Has trodden. Yet this House, if voice it take should, Most plain would speak. So, willing I myself speak To those who know : to who know not — I 'm blankness. CHOKOS. The tenth year this, since Priamos' great match, King Menelaos, Agamemnon King, — The strenuous yoke-pair of the Atreidai's honor Two-throned, two-sceptred, whereof Zeus was donor — Did from this land the aid, the armament dispatch, The thousand-sailored force of Argives clamoring " Ares " from out the indignant breast, as fling Passion forth vultures which, because of grief Away, — as are their young ones, — with the thief, Lofty above their brood-nests wheel in ring, Row round and round with oar of either wing, Lament the bedded chicks, lost labor that was love : Which hearing, one above — "Whether Apollon, Pan or Zeus — that wail, Sharp-piercing bird-shriek of the guests who fare Housemates with gods in air — . Such-an-one sends, against who these assail, What, late-sent, shall not fail Of punishing — -Erinus. Here as there, The Guardian of the Guest, Zeus, the excelling one, Sends against Alexandres either son Of Atreus : for that wife, the many-husbanded, Appointing many a tug that tries the limb, While the knee plays the prop in dust, while, shred To morsels, lies the spear-shaft ; in those grim Marriage-prolusions when their Fury wed Danaoi and Troes, both alike. All 's said : Things are where things are, and, as fate has willed, So shall they be fulfilled. Not gently-grieving, not just doling out The drops of expiation — no, nor tears distilled — Shall he we know of bring the hard about To soft — that intense ire At those mock rites unsanctified by fire. But we pay nought here : through our flesh, age-weighed, Left out from who gave aid AGAMEMNON In that day, — we remain, Staying on staves a strength The equal of a child's at length. For when young marrow in the breast doth reign, That 's the old man's match, — Axes out of place In either : but in oldest age's case, Foliage a-fading, why, he wends his way On three feet, and, no stronger than a child, Wanders about gone wild, A dream in day. But thou, Tundareus' daughter, Klutaimnestra queen, What need ? What new ? What having heard or seen, By what announcement's tidings, everywhere Settest thou, round about, the sacrifice aflare ? For, of all gods the city-swaying, Those supernal, those infernal, Those of the fields', those of the mart's obeying, — The altars blaze with gifts ; And here and there, heaven-high the torch uplifts Flame — medicated with persuasions mild, With foul admixture unbeguiled — Of holy unguent, from the clotted chrism Brought from the palace, safe in its abysm. Of these things, speaking what may be indeed Both possible and lawful to concede, Healer do thou become ! — of this solicitude Which, now, stands plainly forth of evil mood, And, then . . . but from oblations, hope, to-day Gracious appearing, wards away From soul the insatiate care, The sorrow at my breast, devouring there ! Empowered am I to sing The omens, what their force which, journeying, Rejoiced the potentates : (For still, from God, inflates My breast, song-suasion : age. Born to the business, still such war can wage) — How the fierce bird against the Teukris land Dispatched, with spear and executing hand, The Achaian's two-throned empery — o'er Hellas' youth Two rulers with one mind : The birds' king to these kings of ships, on high, — The black sort, and the sort that 's white behind, — Appearing by the palace, on the spear-throw side, In right sky-regions, visible far and wide, — AGAMEMNON 7 Devouring a hare-creature, great with young, Balked of more racings they, as she from whom they sprung ! Ah, Linos, say — ah, Linos, song of wail ! But may the good prevail ! The prudent army-prophet seeing two The Atreidai, two their tempers, knew Those feasting on the hare The armament-conductors were ; And thus he spoke, explaining signs in view. " In time, this outset takes the town of Priamos : But all before its towers, — the people's wealth that was, Of flocks and herds, — as sure, shall booty-sharing thence Drain to the dregs away, by battle violence. Only, have care lest grudge of any god disturb With cloud the unsullied shine of that great force, the curb Of Troia, struck with damp Beforehand in the camp ! For envyingly is The virgin Artemis Toward — her father's flying hounds — this House — The sacrificers of the piteous And cowering beast, Brood and all, ere the birth : she hates the eagles' feast. Ah, Linos, say — ah, Linos, song of wail ! But may the good prevail ! " Thus ready is the beauteous one with help To those small dewdrop things fierce lions whelp, And udder-loving litter of each brute That roams the mead ; and therefore makes she suit, The fair one, for fulfilment to the end Of things these signs portend — Which partly smile, indeed, but partly scowl — The phantasms of the fowl. I call Ieios Paian to avert She work the Danaoi hurt By any thwarting waftures, long and fast Holdings from sail of ships : And sacrifice, another than the last, She for herself precipitate — Something unlawful, feast for no man's lips, Builder of quarrels, with the House cognate — Having in awe no husband : for remains A frightful, backward-darting in the path, Wily house-keeping chronicler of wrath, AGAMEMNON That has to punish that old children's fate ! " Such things did Kalchas, — with abundant gains As well, — vociferate, Predictions from the birds, in journeying, Above the abode of either king. With these, symphonious, sing — Ah, Linos, say — ah, Linos, song of wail! But may the good prevail ! Zeus, whosoe'er he be, — if that express Aught dear to him on whom I call — So do I him address. I cannot liken out, by all Admeasurement of powers, Any but Zeus for refuge at such hours, If veritably needs I must From off my soul its vague care-burden thrust. Not — whosoever was the great of yore, Bursting to bloom with bravery all round — Is in our mouths : he was, but is no more. And who it was that after came to be, Met the thrice-throwing wrestler, — he Is also gone to ground. But " Zeus " — if any, heart and soul, that name — » Shouting the triumph-praise — proclaim, Complete in judgment shall that man be found. Zeus, who leads onward mortals to be wise, Appoints that suffering masterfully teach. In sleep, before the heart of each, A woe-remembering travail sheds in dew Discretion, — ay, and melts the unwilling too By what, perchance, may be a graciousness Of gods, enforced no less, — As they, commanders of the crew, Assume the awful seat. And then the old leader of the Achaian fleet, Disparaging no seer — With bated breath to suit misfortune 's inrush here — (What time it labored, that Achaian host, By stay from sailing, — every pulse at length Emptied of vital strength, — Hard over Kalchis shore-bound, current-crost In Aulis station, — while the winds which post From Strumon, ill-delayers, famine-fraught, AGAMEMNON 9 Tempters of man to sail where harborage is naught, Spendthrifts of ships and cables, turning time To twice the length, — these carded, by delay, To less and less away The Argeians' flowery prime : And when a remedy more grave and grand Than aught before — yea, for the storm and dearth — ■ The prophet to the foremost in command Shrieked forth, as cause of this Adducing Artemis, So that the Atreidai striking staves on earth Could not withhold the tear) — Then did the king, the elder, speak this clear. " Heavy the fate, indeed — to disobey ! Yet heavy if my child I slay, s *^~ The adornment of my household : with the tide Of virgin-slaughter, at the altar-side, A father's hands defiling : which the way Without its evils, say ? How shall I turn fleet-fugitive, Failing of duty to allies ? Since for a wind-abating sacrifice And virgin blood, — 't is right they strive, Nay, madden with desire. Well may it work them — this that they require ! " But when he underwent necessity's Yoke-trace, — from soul blowing unhallowed change Unclean, abominable, — thence — another man — The audacious mind of him began Its wildest range. For this it is gives mortals hardihood — Some vice-devising miserable mood Of madness, and first woe of all the brood. The sacrificer of his daughter — strange ! — He dared become, to expedite Woman-avenging warfare, — anchors weighed With such prelusive rite ! Prayings and callings " Father " — naught they made Of these, and of the virgin-age, — Captains heart-set on war to wage ! His ministrants, vows done, the father bade — Kid-like, above the altar, swathed in pall, Take her — lift high, and have no fear at all, LO AGAMEMNON Head-downward, and the fair mouth's guard And frontage hold, — press hard From utterance a curse against the House By dint of bit — violence bridling speech. And as to ground her saffron-vest she shed, She smote the sacrificers all and each With arrow sweet and piteous, From the eye only sped, — Significant of will to use a word, Just as in pictures : since, full many a time, In her sire's guest-hall, by the well-heaped board Had she made music, — lovingly with chime Of her chaste voice, that unpolluted thing, Honored the third libation, — paian that should bring Good fortune to the sire she loved so well. "What followed — those things I nor saw nor tell. But Kalchas' arts — whate'er they indicate — Miss of fulfilment never : it is fate. True, justice makes, in sufferers, a desire To know the future woe preponderate. But — hear before is need ! To that, farewell and welcome ! 't is the same, indeed, As grief beforehand : clearly, part for part, Conformably to Kalchas' art, Shall come the event. But be they as they may, things subsequent, — What is to do, prosperity betide E'en as we wish it ! — we, the next allied, Sole guarding barrier of the Apian land. I am come, reverencing power in thee, Klutaimnestra ! For 't is just we bow To the ruler's wife, — the male-seat man-bereaved. But if thou, having heard good news, — or none, — For good news' hope dost sacrifice thus wide, 1 would hear gladly : art thou mute, — no grudge ! KLUTAIMNESTRA. Good-news-announcer, may — as is the by-word — Morn become, truly, — news from Night his mother ! But thou shalt learn joy past all hope of hearing. Priamos' city have the Argeioi taken. CHOROS. How sayest ? The word, from want of faith, escaped me. AGAMEMNON 11 KliUTiJDVOrESTEA. Troia the Achaioi hold : do I speak plainly ? CHOBOS. Joy overcreeps me, calling forth the tear-drop. KLUT A TMNESTBA. Right ! for, that glad thou art, thine eye convicts thee. CHOROS. For — what to thee, of all this, trusty token ? KLUTAXBOTESTBA. What 's here ! how else ? unless the god have cheated. CHOBOS. Haply thou flattering shows of dreams respectest ? KLUTAIMNBSTBA. No fancy would I take of soul sleep-burdened. CHOBOS. But has there puffed thee up some un winged omen ? KLUTAIMNESTRA. As a young maid 's my mind thou mockest grossly. CHOBOS. Well, at what time was — even sacked, the city ? KLUTAIMITESTRA. Of this same mother Night — the dawn, I tell thee. CHOKOS. And who of messengers could reach this swiftness ? KLUTAIMNESTRA. Hephaistos — sending a bright blaze from Ide\ Beacon did beacon send, from fire the poster, Hitherward : Ide to the rock Hermaian Of Lemnos : and a third great torch o' the island Zeus' seat received in turn, the Athoan summit. And, — so upsoaring as to stride sea over, The strong lamp-voyager, and all for joyance — Did the gold-glorious splendor, any sun like, 12 AGAMEMNON Pass on — the pine-tree — to Makistos' watch-place ; Who did not, — tardy, — caught, no wits about him, By sleep, — decline his portion of the missive. And far the beacon's light, on stream Euripos Arriving, made aware Messapios' warders, And up they lit in turn, played herald onwards, Kindling with flame a heap of gray old heather. And, strengthening still, the lamp, decaying nowise, Springing o'er Plain Asopos, — f ullmoon-fashion Effulgent, — toward the crag of Mount Kithairon, Housed a new rendering-up of fire the escort — And light, far escort, lacked no recognition O' the guard — as burning more than burnings told you. And over Lake Gorgopis light went leaping, And, at Mount Aigiplanktos safe arriving, Enforced the law — " to never stint the fire-stuff." And they send, lighting up with ungrudged vigor, Of flame a huge beard, ay, the very foreland So as to strike above, in burning onward, The look-out which commands the Strait Saronic. Then did it dart until it reached the outpost Mount Arachnaios here, the city's neighbor ; And then darts to this roof of the Atreidai This light of Id^'s fire not unforefathered ! Such are the rules prescribed the flambeau-bearers : He beats that's first and also last in running. Such is the proof and token I declare thee, My husband having sent me news from Troia. cnoROs. The gods, indeed, anon will I pray, woman ! But now, these words to hear, and sate my wonder Thoroughly, I am fain — if twice thou tell them. KLUTAIMNESTKA. Troia do the Achaioi hold, this same day. I think a noise — no mixture — reigns i' the city. Sour wine and unguent pour thou in one vessel — Standers-apart, not lovers, would'st thou style them : And so, of captives and of conquerors, partwise The voices are to hear, of fortune diverse. For those, indeed, upon the bodies prostrate Of husbands, brothers, children upon parents — The old men, from a throat that 's free no longer, Shriekingly wail the death-doom of their dearest : While these — the after-battle hungry labor, AGAMEM.NON 13 Which prompts night-faring, marshals them to breakfast On the town's store, according to no billet Of sharing, but as each drew lot of fortune. In the spear-captured Troic habitations House they already : from the frosts upaethral And dews delivered, will they, luckless creatures, Without a watch to keep, slumber all night through. And if they fear the gods, the city-guarders, And the gods' structures of the conquered country, They may not — capturers — soon in turn be captive. But see no prior lust befall the army To sack things sacred — by gain-cravings vanquished ! For there needs homeward the return's salvation, To round the new limb back o' the double racecourse. And guilty to the gods if came the army, Awakened up the sorrow of those slaughtered ' Might be — should no outbursting evils happen. But may good beat — no turn to see i' the balance ! For, many benefits I want the gain of. CHOKOS. Woman, like prudent man thou kindly speakest. And I, thus having heard thy trusty tokens, The gods to rightly hail forthwith prepare me ; For, grace that must be paid has crowned our labors. • O Zeus the king, and friendly Night Of these brave boons bestower — Thou who didst fling on Troia's every tower The o'er-roofing snare, that neither great thing might, Nor any of the young ones, overpass Captivity's great sweep-net — one and all Of Ate - held in thrall ! Ay, Zeus I fear — the guest's friend great — who was The doer of this, and long since bent The bow on Alexandras with intent That neither wide o' the white Nor o'er the stars the foolish dart should light. The stroke of Zeus — they have it, as men say ! This, at least, from the source track forth we may ! As he ordained, so has he done. : No " — said someone — • The gods think fit to care Nowise for mortals, such As those by whom the good and fair Of things denied their touch 14 AGAMEMNON Is trampled ! " but he was profane. That they do care, has been made plain To offspring of the over-bold, Outbreathing " Ares " greater than is just — Houses that spill with more than they can hold, More than is best for man. Be man's what must Keep harm off, so that in himself he find Sufficiency — the well-endowed of mind ! For there 's no bulwark in man's wealth to him Who, through a surfeit, kicks — into the dim And disappearing — Right's great altar. Yes — It urges him, the sad persuasiveness, At6's insufferable child that schemes Treason beforehand : and all cure is vain. It is not hidden : out it glares again, A light dread-lamping-mischief, just as gleams The badness of the bronze ; Through rubbing, puttings to the touch, Black-clotted is he, judged at once. He seeks — the boy — a flying bird to clutch, The insufferable brand Setting upon the city of his land "Whereof not any god hears prayer ; While him who brought about such evils there, . That unjust man, the god in grapple throws. Such an one, Paris goes Within the Atreidai's house — Shamed the guest's board by robbery of the spouse. And, leaving to her townsmen throngs a-spread With shields, and spear-thrusts of sea-armament, And bringing Ilion, in a dowry's stead, Destruction — swiftly through the gates she went, Daring the undarable. But many a groan outbroke From prophets of the House as thus they spoke. " Woe, woe the House, the House and Rulers, — woe The marriage-bed and dints A husband's love imprints ! There she stands silent ! meets no honor — no Shame — sweetest still to see of things gone long ago ! And, through desire of one across the main, A ghost will seem within the house to reign : And hateful to the husband is the grace Of well-shaped statues : from — in place of eyes, Those blanks — all Aphrodite dies. AGAMEMNON 15 " But dream-appearing mournful fantasies — There they stand, bringing grace that 's vain. For vain 't is, when brave things one seems to view ; The fantasy has floated off, hands through ; Gone, that appearance, — nowise left to creep, — On wings, the servants in the paths of sleep ! " Woes, then, in household and on hearth, are such As these — and woes surpassing these by much. But not these only : everywhere — For those who from the land Of Hellas issued in a band, Sorrow, the heart must bear, Sits in the home of each, conspicuous there. Many a circumstance, at least, Touches the very breast. For those Whom any sent away, — he knows : And in the live man's stead, Armor and ashes reach The house of each. For Ares, gold-exchanger for the dead, And balance-holder in the fight o' the spear, Due-weight from Ilion sends — What moves the tear on tear — A charred scrap to the friends : Filling with well-packed ashes every urn, For man — that was — the sole return. And they groan — praising much, the while, Now this man as experienced in the strife, Now that, fallen nobly on a slaughtered pile, •Because of — not his own — another's wife. But things there be, one barks, When no man harks : A surreptitious grief that 's grudge Against the Atreidai who first sought the judge. But some there, round the rampart, have In Ilian earth, each one his grave : All fair-formed as at birth, It hid them — what they have and hold — the hostile oarth. And big with anger goes the city's word, And pays a debt by public curse incurred. And ever with me — as about to hear A something night-involved — remains my fear : Since of the many-slayers — not 16 AGAMEMNON Unwatching are the gods. The black Erinues, at due periods — Whoever gains the lot Of fortune with no right — Him, by life's strain and stress Back-again-beaten from success, They strike blind : and among the out-of -sight For who has got to be, avails no might. The being praised outrageously • Is grave, for at the eyes of such an one Is launched, from Zeus, the thunder-stone. Therefore do I decide For so much and no more prosperity Than of his envy passes unespied. Neither a city-sacker would I be, Nor life, myself by others captive, see. A swift report has gone our city through, From fire, the good-news messenger : if true, Who knows ? Or is it not a god-sent lie ? Who is so childish and deprived of sense That, having, at announcements of the flame Thus novel, felt his own heart fired thereby, He then shall, at a change of evidence, Be worsted just the same ? It is conspicuous in a woman's nature, Before its view to take a grace for granted : Too trustful, — on her boundary, usurpature Is swiftly made ; But swiftly, too, decayed, The glory perishes by woman vaunted. BXUTAIMNESTKA. Soon shall we know — of these light-bearing torches, And beacons and exchanges, fire with fire — If they are true, indeed, or if, dream-fashion, This gladsome light came and deceived our judgment. Yon herald from the shore I see, o'ershadowed With boughs of olive : dust, mud's thirsty brother, Close neighbors on his garb, thus testify me That neither voiceless, nor yet kindling for thee Mountain-wood-flame, shall he explain by fire-smoke : But either tell out more the joyance, speaking . . . Word contrary to which, I aught but love it ! For may good be — to good that 's known — appendage ! AGAMEMNON 17 CHOKOS. Whoever prays for aught else to this city — May he himself reap fruit of his mind's error ! HERALD. Ha, my forefathers' soil of earth Argeian ! Thee, in this year's tenth light, am I returned to — Of many broken hopes, on one hope chancing ; For never prayed I, in this earth Argeian Dying, to share my part in tomb the dearest. Now, hail thou earth, and hail thou also, sunlight, And Zeus, the country's lord, and king the Futbian From bow no longer urging at us arrows ! Enough, beside Skamandros, cam'st thou adverse : Now, contrary, be savior thou and healer, king Apollon ! And gods conquest-granting, All — I invoke too, and my tutelary Hermes, dear herald, heralds' veneration, — And Heroes our f orthsenders, — friendly, once more The army to receive, the war-spear's leavings ! Ha, mansions of my monarchs, roofs beloved, And awful seats, and deities sun-fronting — Receive with pomp your monarch, long time absent ! For he comes bringing light in night-time to you, In common with all these — king Agamemnon. But kindly greet him — for clear shows your duty — Who has dug under Troia with the mattock Of Zeus the Avenger, whereby plains are out-ploughed, Altars unrecognizable, and god's shrines, And the whole land's seed thoroughly has perished. And such a yoke-strap having cast round Troia, The elder king Atreides, happy man — he Comes to be honored, worthiest of what mortals Now are. Nor Paris nor the accomplice-city Outvaunts their deed as more than they are done-by : For, in a suit for rape and theft found guilty, He missed of plunder and, in one destruction, Fatherland, house and home has mowed to atoms : Debts the Priamidai have paid twice over. CHOKOS. Hail, herald from the army of Achaians \ HERALD. 1 hail : — to die, will gainsay gods no longer ! 18 AGAMEMNON CHOBOS. Love of this fatherland did exercise thee ? HEBAID. So that I weep, at least, with joy, my eyes full. CHOKOS. What, of this gracious sickness were ye gainers ? HERALD. How now ? instructed, I this speech shall master. CHOKOS. For those who loved you back, with longing stricken. HERALD. This land yearned for the yearning army, say'st thou ? CHOKOS. So as to set me oft, from dark mind, groaning. HERALD. Whence came this ill mind — hatred to the army ? CHOROS. Of old, I use, for mischief's physic, silence. HERALD. And how, the chiefs away, did you fear any ? CHOKOS. So that now — late thy word — much joy were — dying ! HERALD. For well have things been worked out : these, — in much time, Some of them, one might say, had luck in falling, While some were faulty: since who, gods excepted, Goes, through the whole time of his life, ungrieving ? For labors should I tell of, and bad lodgments, Narrow deckways ill-strewn, too, — what the day's woe We did not groan at getting for our portion ? As for land-things, again, on went more hatred ! Since beds were ours hard by the foemen's ramparts, And, out of heaven and from the earth, the meadow Dews kept a-sprinkle, an abiding damage AGAMEMNON 19 Of vestures, making hair a wild-beast matting. Winter, too, if one told of it — bird-slaying — Such as, unbearable, Idaian snow brought — Or heat, when waveless, on its noontide couches Without a wind, the sea would slumber falling — "Why must one mourn these ? O'er and gone is labor : O'er and gone is it, even to those dead ones, So that no more again they mind uprising. Why must we tell in numbers those deprived ones, A.nd the live man be vexed with fate's fresh outbreak ? Rather, I bid full farewell to misfortunes ! For us, the left from out- the Argeian army, The gain beats, nor does sorrow counterbalance. So that 't is fitly boasted of, this sunlight, By us, o'er sea and land the aery flyers, Troia at last taking, the band of Argives Hang up such trophies to the gods of Hellas Within their domes — new glory to grow ancient ! " Such things men having heard must praise the city And army-leaders : and the grace which wrought them — Of Zeus, shall honored be. Thou hast my whole word. CHOEOS. O'ercome by words, their sense I do not gainsay. For, aye this breeds youth in the old — " to learn well." But these things most the house and Klutaimnestra Concern, 'tis likely : while they make me rich, too. KLUTAIMNESTRA. I shouted long ago, indeed, for joyance, When came that first night-messenger of fire Proclaiming Ilion's capture and dispersion. And someone, girding me, said, " Through fire-bearers Persuaded — Troia to be sacked now, thinkest ? Truly, the woman's way, — high to lift heart up ! " By such words I was made seem wit-bewildered : Yet still I sacrificed ; and, — female-song with, — A shout one man and other, through the city, Set up, congratulating in the gods' seats, Soothing the incense-eating flame right fragrant. And now, what 's more, indeed, why need'st thou tell me ? I of the king himself shall learn the whole word : And, — as may best be, — I my revered husband Shall hasten, as he comes back, to receive : for — What 's to a wife sweeter to see than this light (Her husband, by the god saved, back from warfare) 20 AGAMEMNON So as to open gates ? This tell my husband — To come at soonest to his loving city. A faithful wife at home may he find, coming ! Such an one as he left — the dog o' the household — Trusty to him, adverse to the ill-minded, And, in all else, the same : no signet-impress Having done harm to, in that time's duration. I know nor pleasure, nor blameworthy converse With any other man more than — bronze-dippings ! HERALD. Such boast as this — brimful of the veracious — Is for a high-born dame not bad to send forth ! CHOROS. Ay, she spoke thus to thee — that hast a knowledge From clear interpreters — a speech most seemly ! But speak thou, herald ! Meneleos I ask of : If he, returning, back in safety also Will come with you — this land's beloved chieftain ? HERALD. There 's no way I might say things false and pleasant For friends to reap the fruits of through a long time. CHOROS. How then, if, speaking good, things true thou chance on ? HERALD. For not well-hidden things become they, sundered. The man has vanished from the Achaic army, He and his ship too. I announce no falsehood. CHOROS. Whether forth-putting openly from Ilion, Or did storm — wide woe — snatch him from the army ? HERALD. Like topping bowman, thou hast touched the target, And a long sorrow hast succinctly spoken. CHOROS. Whether, then, of him, as a live or dead man Was the report by other sailors bruited ? AGAMEMNON 21 HBKALD. Nobody knows so as to tell out clearly Excepting Helios who sustains earth's nature. CHOEOS. How say'st thou then, did storm the naval army Attack and end, by the celestials' anger ? It suits not to defile a day auspicious With ill-announcing speech : distinct each god's due : And when a messenger with gloomy visage To a city bears a fall'n host's woes — God ward off ! — One popular wound that happens to the city, And many sacrificed from many households — Men, scourged by that two-thonged whip Ares loves so, Double spear-headed curse, bloody yoke-couple, — Of woes like these, doubtless, whoe'er comes weighted, Him does it suit to sing the Erinues' paian. But who, of matters saved a glad-news-bringer, Comes to a city in good estate rejoicing. . . . How shall I mix good things with evil, telling Of storm against the Achaioi, urged by gods' wrath ? For they swore league, being arch-foes before that, Fire and the sea : and plighted troth approved they, Destroying the unhappy Argeian army. At night began the bad-wave-outbreak evils ; For, ships against each other Threkian breezes Shattered : and these, butted at in a fury By storm and typhoon, with surge rain-resounding, — Off they went, vanished, through a bad herd's whirling. And, when returned the brilliant light of Helios, We view the Aigaian sea on flower with corpses Of men Achaian and with naval ravage. But us indeed, and ship, unhurt i' the hull too, Either some one out-stole us or out-prayed us — Some god — no man it was the tHler touching. And Fortune, savior, willing on our ship sat. So as it neither had in harbor wave-surge Nor ran aground against a shore all rocky. And then, the water-Haides having fled from In the white day, not trusting to our fortune, We chewed the cud in thoughts — this novel sorrow 0' the army laboring and badly pounded. And now — if anyone of them is breathing — 22 AGAMEMNON They talk of us as having perished : why not ? And we — that they the same fate have, imagine. May it he for the best ! Meneleos, then, Foremost and specially to come, expect thou ! If (that is) any ray o' the sun reports him Living and seeing too — by Zeus' contrivings, Not yet disposed to quite destroy the lineage — Some hope is he shall come again to household. Having heard such things, know, thou truth art hearing ! CHOKOS. Who may he have been that named thus wholly with exacti- tude — (Was he someone whom we see not, by forecastings of the fu- ture Guiding tongue in happy mood ?) — Her with battle for a bridegroom, on all sides contention- wooed, Helena ? Since — mark the suture ! — Ship's-Hell, Man's-Hell, City'sJIell, From the delicately-pompous curtains that pavilion well, Forth, by favor of the gale Of earth-born Zephuros did she sail. Many shield-bearers, leaders of the pack, Sailed too upon their track, Theirs who had directed oar, Then visible no more, To Simois' leaf-luxuriant shore — For sake of strife all gore ! To Ilion Wrath, fulfilling her intent, This marriage-care — the rightly named so — sent : In after-time, for the tables' abuse And that of the hearth-partaker Zeus, Bringing to punishment Those who honored with noisy throat The honor of the bride, the hymenseal note Which did the kinsfolk then to singing urge. But, learning a new hymn for that which was, The ancient city of Priamos Groans probably a great and general dirge, Denominating Paris " The man that miserably marries : " — She who, all the while before, A life, that was a general dirge For citizens' unhappy slaughter, bore. AGAMEMNON 23 And thus a man, by no milk's help, "Within his household reared a lion's whelp That loved the teat In life's first festal stage : Gentle as yet, 1 A true child-lover, and, to men of age, A thing whereat pride warms ; And oft he had it in his arms Like any new-horn babe, bright-faced, to hand Wagging its tail, at belly's strict command. But in due time upgrown, The custom of progenitors was shown : For — thanks for sustenance repaying With ravage of sheep slaughtered — It made unbidden f eaSt ; With blood the house was watered, To household came a woe there was no staying : Great mischief many-slaying ! From God it was — some priest Of Ate", in the house, by nurture thus increased. At first, then, to the city of Ilion went A soul, as I might say, of windless calm — Wealth's quiet ornament, An eyes'-dart bearing balm, Love's spirit-biting flower. But — from the true course bending — She brought about, of marriage, bitter ending : Ill-resident, ill-mate, in power Passing to the Priamidai — by sending Of Hospitable Zeus — Erinus for a bride, — to make brides mourn, her dower. Spoken long ago Was the ancient saying Still among mortals staying : " Man's great prosperity at height of rise Engenders offspring nor unchilded dies ; And, from good fortune, to such families, Buds forth insatiate woe." "Whereas, distinct from any, Of my own mind I am : For 't is the unholy deed begets the many, Resembling each its dam. Of households that correctly estimate, Ever a beauteous child is born of Fate. 24 AGAMEMNON But ancient Arrogance delights to generate Arrogance, young and strong 'mid mortals' sorrow, Or now, or then, when comes the appointed morrow. And she bears young Satiety ; And, fiend with whom nor fight nor war can be, Unholy Daring — twin black Curses Within the household, children like their nurses. But Justice shines in smoke-grimed habitations, And honors the well-omened life ; While, — gold-besprinkled stations Where the hands' filth is rife, With backward-turning eyes Leaving, — to holy seats she hies, Not worshipping the power of wealth Stamped with applause by stealth : And to its end directs each thing begun. Approach then, my monarch," of Troia the sacker, of Atreus the son ! How ought I address thee, how ought I revere thee, — nor yet overhitting Nor yet underbending the grace that is fitting ? Many of mortals hasten to honor the seeming-to-be — Passing by justice : and, with the ill-faring, to groan as he groans all are free. But no bite of the sorrow their liver has reached to : They say with the joyful, — one outside on each, too, As they force to a smile smileless faces. But whoever is good at distinguishing races In sheep of his flock — it is not for the eyes Of a man to escape such a shepherd's surprise, As they seem, from a well-wishing mind, In watery friendship to fawn and be kind. Thou to me, then, indeed, sending an army for Helena's sake, (I will not conceal it,) wast — oh, by no help of the Muses ! — depicted Not well of thy midriff the rudder directing, — convicted Of bringing a boldness they did not desire to the men with ex- istence at stake. But now — from no outside of mind, nor unlovingly — gracious thou art To those who have ended the labor, fulfilling their part ; And in time shalt thou know, by inquiry instructed, Who of citizens justly, and who not to purpose, the city con- ducted. AGAMEMNON 25 AGAMEMNON. First, indeed, Argos, and the gods, the local, 'T is right addressing — those with me the partners In this return and right things done the city Of Priamos : gods who, from no tongue hearing The rights o' the cause, for Ilion's fate man-slaught'rous Into the bloody vase, not oscillating, Put the vote-pebbles, while, o' the rival vessel, Hope rose up to the lip-edge : filled it was not. By smoke the captured city is still conspicuous : Ate"'s burnt-offerings live : and, dying with them, The ash sends forth the fulsome blasts of riches. Of these things, to the gods grace many-mindful 'T is right I render, since both nets outrageous We,built them round with, and, for sake of woman, It did the city to dust — the Argeian monster, The horse's nestling, the shield-bearing people That made a leap, at setting of the Pleiads, And, vaulting o'er the tower, the raw-flesh-feeding Lion licked up his fill of blood tyrannic. I to the gods indeed prolonged this preface ; But — as for thy thought, I remember hearing — I say the same, and thou co-pleader hast me. Since few of men this faculty is born with — To honor, without grudge, their friend successful. For moody, on the heart, a poison seated Its burden doubles to who gained the sickness : By his own griefs he is himself made heavy, And out-of-door prosperity seeing groans at. Knowing, I 'd call (for well have I experienced) " Fellowship's mirror," " phantom of a shadow," Those seeming to be mighty gracious to me : "While just Odusseus — he who sailed not willing — When joined on, was to me the ready trace-horse. This of him, whether dead or whether living, I say. For other city-and-gpds' concernment — Appointing common courts, in full assemblage We will consult. And as for what holds seemly — How it may lasting stay well, must be counselled : While what has need of medicines Paionian We, either burning or else cutting kindly, Will make endeavor to turn pain from sickness. And now into the domes and homes by altar Going, I to the gods first raise the right-hand — They who, far sending, back again have brought me. And Victory, since she followed, fixed remain she ! 26 AGAMEMNON KLXTTAIMSTESTEA. Men, citizens, Argeians here, my worships ! I shall not shame me, consort-loving manners To tell before you : for in time there dies off The diffidence from people. Not from others Learning, I of myself will tell the hard life I bore so long as this man was 'neath Hion. First : for a woman, from the male divided. To sit at home alone, is monstrous evil — Hearing the many rumors back-revenging : And for now This to come, now That bring after "Woe, and still worse woe, bawling in the household ! And truly, if so many wounds had chanced on My husband here, as homeward used to dribble Report, he 's pierced more than a net to speak of ! While, were he dying (as the words abounded) A triple-bodied Geruon the Second, Plenty above — for loads below I count not — Of earth a three-share cloak he 'd boast of taking, Once only dying in each several figure ! Because of such-like rumors back-revenging, Many the halters from my neck, above head, Others than I loosed — loosed from neck by main force ! From this cause, sure, the boy stands not beside me — ■ Possessor of our troth-plights, thine and mine too — As ought Orestes : be not thou astonished ! For, him brings up our well-disposed guest-captive Strophios the Phokian — ills that told on both sides To me predicting — both of thee 'neath Hion The danger, and if anarchy's mob-uproar Should o'erthrow thy council ; since it is born with Mortals, — whoe'er has fallen, the more to kick him. Such an excuse, I think, no cunning carries ! As for myself — why, of my wails the rushing Fountains are dried up : not in them a drop more ! And in my late-to-bed eyes have I damage Bewailing what concerned thee, those torch-holdings Forever unattended to. In dreams — why, Beneath the light wing-beats o' the gnat, I woke up As he went buzzing — sorrows that concerned thee Seeing, that filled more than their fellow-sleep-time. Now, all this having suffered, from soul grief-free I would style this man here the dog o' the stables, The savior forestay of the ship, the high roof's Ground-prop, son sole-begotten to his father, AGAMEMNON 27 — Ay, land appearing to the sailors past hope, Loveliest day to see after a tempest, To the wayfaring-one athirst a well-spring, — The joy, in short, of 'scaping all that's — fatal ! I judge him worth addresses such as these are — Envy stand off ! — for many those old evils "We underwent. And now, to me — dear headship ! — Dismount thou from this car, not earthward setting The foot of thine, O king, that 's Hion's spoiler ! Slave-maids, why tarry ? — whose the task allotted The soil o' the road to strew with carpet-spreadings. Immediately be purple-strewn the pathway, So that to home unhoped may lead him — Justice ! As for the rest, care shall — by no sleep conquered — Dispose things — justly (gods to aid !) appointed. AGAMEMNON. Offspring of Leda, of my household warder, Suitably to my absence hast thou spoken, For long the speech thou didst outstretch ! But aptly To praise — from others ought to go this favor. And for the rest, — not me, in woman's fashion, Mollify, nor — as mode of barbarous man is — To me gape forth a groundward-falling clamor ! Nor, strewing it with garments, make my passage Envied ! Gods, sure, with these behoves us honor : But, for a mortal on these varied beauties To walk — to me, indeed, is nowise fear-free. I say — as man, not god, to me do homage ! Apart from foot-mats both and varied vestures, Renown is loud, and — not to lose one's senses, God's greatest gift. Behoves we him call happy Who has brought life to end in loved wellbeing. If all things I might manage thus — brave man, I ! KLUTAIMNESTRA. Come now, this say, nor feign a feeling to me '. AGAMEMNON. With feeling, know indeed, I do not tamper ! HXCTAIMNESTKA. Vowedst thou to the gods, in fear, to act thus ? AGAMEMNON. If any, I well knew resolve I outspoke. 28 AGAMEMNON KI/UTAIMNESTBA. What think'st thou Priamos had done, thus victor ? AGAMEMNON. On varied vests — I do think — he had passaged. KLUTAIMNESTR A . Then, do not, struck with awe at human censure. . . . AGAMEMNON. Well, popular mob-outcry much avails too ! KLUTATMNESTEA. Ay, but the unenvied is not the much valued. AGAMEMNON. Sure, 't is no woman's part to long for battle ! . KXUTAIMNESTRA. Why, to the prosperous, even suits a beating ! AGAMEMNON. What ? thou this beating us in war dost prize too ? KLtTTAIMNESTEA. Persuade thee ! power, for once, grant me — and willing ! AGAMEMNON. But if this seem so to thee — shoes, let someone Loose under, quick — foot's serviceable carriage ! And me, on these sea-products walking, may no Grudge from a distance, from the god's eye, strike at ! For great shame were my strewment-spoiling — riches Spoiling with feet, and silver-purchased textures ! Of these things, thus then. But this female-stranger Tenderly take inside ! Who conquers mildly God, from afar, benignantly regardeth. For, willing, no one wears a yoke that 's servile : And she, of many valuables, outpicked The flower, the army's gift, myself has followed. So — since to hear thee, I am brought about thus, — I go into the palace — purples treading. KLUTAIMNESTRA. There is the sea — and what man shall exhaust it ? — Feeding much purple's worth-its-weight-in-silver AGAMEMNON 29 )ye, ever fresh and fresh, our garments' tincture ; it home, such wealth, king, we begin — by gods' help — With having, and to lack, the household knows not. )f many garments had I vowed a treading In oracles if fore-enjoined the household) )f this dear soul the safe-return-price scheming ! Tor, root existing, foliage goes up houses, Shadow o'erspreading against Seirios dog-star ; bid, thou returning to the hearth domestic, Warmth, yea, in winter dost thou show returning. Lnd when, too, Zeus works, from the green-grape acrid, Wine — then, already, cool in houses cometh — [Tie perfect man his home perambulating ! 5eus, Zeus Perf ecter, these my prayers perfect thou ! Dhy care be — yea — of things thou may'st make perfect ! CHOKOS. Wherefore to me, this fear — Jroundedly stationed here fronting my heart, the portent-watcher — flits she ? Wherefore should prophet-play Che uncalled and unpaid lay, Sor — having spat forth fear, like bad dreams — sits she )n the mind's throne beloved — well-suasive Boldness ? Tor time, since, by a throw of all the hands, [Tie boat's stern-cables touched the sands, Has passed from youth to oldness, — When under Ilion rushed the ship-borne bands. ^.nd from my eyes I learn — Jeing myself my witness — their return. fet, all the same, without a lyre, my soul, itself its teacher too, chants from within 5rinus' dirge, not having now the whole )f Hope's dear boldness : nor my inwards sin — The heart that 's rolled in whirls against the mind lustly presageful of a fate behind. 3ut I pray — things false, from my hope, may fall Into the fate that 's not-fulfilled-at-all ! Especially at least, of health that 's great Che term 's insatiable : for, its weight — A neighbor, with a common wall between — Sver will sickness lean ; Lnd destiny, her course pursuing straight, las struck man's ship against a reef unseen. 30 AGAMEMNON Now, when a portion, rather than the treasure, Fear casts from sling, with peril in right measure, It has not sunk — the universal freight, (With misery freighted over-full,) Nor has fear whelmed the hull. Then too the gift of Zeus, Two-handedly profuse, Even from the furrows' yield for yearly use Has done away with famine, the disease ; But hlood of man to earth once falling, — deadly, black, — In times ere these, — Who may, by singing spells, call back ? Zeus had not else stopped one who rightly knew The way to bring the dead again. But, did not an appointed Fate constrain The Fate from gods, to bear no more than due, My heart, outstripping what tongue utters, Would have all out : which now, in darkness, mutters Moodily grieved, nor ever hopes to find How she a word in season may unwind From out the enkindling mind. KLUTAIMNESTRA. Take thyself in, thou too — I say, Kassandra ! Since Zeus — not angrily — in household placed thee Partaker of hand-sprinklings, with the many Slaves stationed, his the Owner's altar close to. Descend from out this car, nor be high-minded ! And truly they do say Alkmene's child once Bore being sold, slaves' barley-bread his living. If, then, necessity of this lot o'erbalance, Much is the favor of old-wealthy masters : For those who, never hoping, made fine harvest Are harsh to slaves in all things, beyond measure. Thou hast — with us — such usage as law warrants. CHOROS. To thee it was, she paused plain speech from speaking. Being inside the fatal nets — obeying, Thou may'st obey : but thou may'st disobey too ! KLUTAIMNESTRA. Why, if she is not, in the swallow's fashion, Possessed of voice that 's unknown and barbaric, I, with speech — speaking in mind's scope — persuade her AGAMEMNON 31 CHOROS. Follow ! The best — as things now stand — she speaks of. Obey thou, leaving this thy car-enthronement ! KLUTAIMNESTRA. Well, with this thing at door, for me no leisure To waste time : as concerns the hearth mid-navelled, Already stand the sheep for fireside slaying By those who never hoped to have such favor. If thou, then, aught of this wilt do, delay not ! But if thou, being witless, tak'st no word in, Speak thou, instead of voice, with hand as Kars do ! CHOEOS. She seems a plain interpreter in need of, The stranger ! and her way — a beast's new-captured ! KLUTAIMNESTRA. Why, she is mad, sure, — hears her own bad senses, — Who, while she comes, leaving a town new-captured, Yet knows not how to bear the bit o' the bridle Before she has out-frothed her bloody fierceness. Not I — throwing away more words' — will shamed be ! CHOROS. But I, — for I compassionate, — will chafe not. Come,'0 unhappy one, this car vacating, Yielding to this necessity, prove yoke's use ! KASSANBRA. Otototoi, Gods, Earth — Apollon, Apollon ! CHOROS. Why didst thou " ototoi " concerning Loxias ? Since he is none such as to suit a mourner. KASSANDRA. Otototoi, Gods, Earth, — Apollon, Apollon ! CHOROS. Ill-boding here again the god invokes she — Nowise empowered in woes to stand by helpful. 32 AGAMEMNON KASSANDBA. Apollon, Apollon, Guard of the ways, my destroyer ! For thou hast quite, this second time, destroyed me. CHOBOS. To prophesy she seems of her own evils : Remains the god-gift to the slave-soul present. KASSANDBA. Apollon, Apollon, Guard of the ways, my destroyer ! Ha, whither hast thou led me ? to what roof now ? CHOBOS. To the Atreidai's roof : if this thou know'st not, I tell it thee, nor this wilt thou call falsehood. KASSANDBA. How ! how ! God-hated, then ! Of many a crime it knew — Self-slaying evils, halters too : Man's-shambles, blood-besprinkler of the ground ! CHOBOS. She seems "to be good-nosed, the stranger: dog-like, She snuffs indeed the victims she will find there^ KASSANDBA. How ! how ! By the witnesses here I am certain now ! These children bewailing their slaughters — flesh dressed ir the fire And devoured by their sire ! CHOBOS. Ay, we have heard of thy soothsaying glory, Doubtless : but prophets none are we in scent of ! KASSANDBA. Ah, gods, what ever does she meditate ? What this new anguish great ? Great in the house here she meditates ill Such as friends cannot bear, cannot cure it : and still Off stands all Resistance Afar in the distance ! AGAMEMNON 33 CHOBOS. Of these I witless am — these prophesyings. But those I knew : for the whole city bruits them. KASSANDRA. Ah, unhappy one, this thou consummatest ? Thy husband, thy bed's common guest, In the bath having brightened. . . . How shall I declare Consummation ? It soon will be there : For hand after hand she outstretches, At life as she reaches ! CHOKOS. Nor yet I 've gone with thee ! for — after riddles — Now, in blind oracles, I feel resourceless. KASSANDBA. Eh, eh, papal, papai, What this, I espy ? Some net of Ilaides undoubtedly ! Nay, rather, the snare Is she who has share In his bed, who takes part in the murder there ! But may a revolt — Unceasing assault — On the Race, raise a shout Sacrificial, about A victim — by stoning — For murder atoning ! CHOKOS. What this Erinus which i' the house thou callest To raise her cry ? Not me thy word enlightens ! To my heart has run A drop of the crocus-dye : Which makes for those On earth by the spear that lie, A common close With life's descending sun. Swift is the curse begun ! KASSANDBA. How ! how ! See — see quick ! Keep the bull from the cow t S4 AGAMEMNON In the vesture she catching him, strikes him now With the Hack-horned trick, And he falls in the watery vase ! Of the craft-killing caldron I tell thee the case ! I would not boast to be a topping critic Of oracles : but to some sort of evil I liken these. From oracles, what good speech To mortals, beside, is sent ? It comes of their evils : these arts word-abounding that sing the event Bring the fear 't is their office to teach. KASSANDRA. Ah me, ah me — Of me unhappy, evil-destined fortunes ! For I bewail my proper woe As, mine with his, all into one I throw. Why hast thou hither me unhappy brought ? — Unless that I should die with him — for naught ! What else was sought ? CHOKOS. Thou art some mind-mazed creature, god-possessed : And all about thyself dost wail A lay — no lay ! Like some brown nightingale Insatiable of noise, who — well away ! — From her unhappy breast Keeps moaning Itus, Itus, and his life With evils, flourishing on each side, rife. KASSANDRA. Ah me, ah me, The fate o' the nightingale, the clear resounder ! For a body wing-borne have the gods cast round her, And sweet existence, from misfortunes free : But for myself remains a sundering With spear, the two-edged thing ! CHOROS. Whence hast thou this on-rushing god-involving pain And spasms in vain ? For, things that terrify, With changing unintelligible cry AGAMEMNON 35 [Tiou strikest up in tune, yet all the while ifter that Orthian style ! Whence hast thou limits to the oracular road, That evils hode ? KASSANDRA. lh me, the nuptials, the nuptials of Paris, the deadly to friends ! \.h me, of Skamandros the draught Paternal ! There once, to these ends, Dn thy banks was I brought, The unhappy .' And now, by Kokutos and Acheron's shore [ shall soon be, it seems, these my oracles singing once more! CHOROS. Why this word, plain too much, last thou uttered ? A babe might learn of such ! [ am struck with a bloody bite — here under — \.t the fate woe-wreaking Df thee shrill-shrieking : To me who hear — a wonder ! KASSANDRA. Ah me, the toils — the toils of the city The wholly destroyed : ah, pity, 3f the sacrificings my father made [n the ramparts' aid — Much slaughter of grass-fed flocks — that afforded no cure rhat the city should not, as it does now, the burthen endure ! But I, with the soul on fire, ?oon to the earth shall cast me and expire ! CHOROS. To things, on the former consequent, Again hast thou given vent : And 't is some evil-meaning fiend doth move thee, Heavily falling from above thee, To melodize thy sorrows — else, in singing, Calamitous, death-bringing ! And of all this the end [ am without resource to apprehend. KASSANDRA. Well then, the oracle from veils no longer Shall be outlooking, like a bride new-married : But bright it seems, against the sun's uprisings • C6 AGAMEMNON Breathing, to penetrate thee : so as, wave-like, To wash against the rays a woe much greater Than this. I will no longer teach by riddles. And witness, running with me, that of evils Done long ago, I nosing track the footstep ! For, this same roof here — never quits a Choros One-voiced, not well-tuned since no " well " it utters : And truly having drunk, to get more courage, Man's blood — the Komos keeps within the household — Hard to be sent outside — of sister Furies : They hymn their hymn — within the house close sitting - The first beginning curse : in turn spit forth at The Brother's bed, to him who spurned it hostile. Have I missed aught, or hit I like a bowman ? False prophet am I, — knock at doors, a babbler ? Henceforward witness, swearing now, I know not By other's word the old sins of this household ! - CHOROS. And how should oath, bond honorably binding, Become thy cure ? No less I wonder at thee — That thou, beyond sea reared, a strange-tongued city Should'st hit in speaking, just as if thou stood'st by ! KABSANDRA. Prophet Apollon put me in this office. CHOKOS. What, even though a god, with longing smitten ? KASSANDRA. At first, indeed, shame was to me to say this. CHOROS. For, more relaxed grows everyone who fares welL KASSANDRA. But he was athlete to me — huge grace breathing ! CHOROS. Well, to the work of children, went ye law's way ? KASSANDRA. Having consented, Loxias I played false to. CHOROS. Already when the wits inspired possessed of ? AGAMEMNON 37 KASSABTDRA. Already townsmen all their woes I foretold. CHOROS. How wast thou then unhurt by Loxias' anger ? KASSANDRA. I no one aught persuaded, when I sinned thus. CHOROS. To us, at least, now sooth to say thou seemest. KASSANDRA. Halloo, halloo, ah, evils ! Again, straightforward foresight's fearful labor Whirls me, distracting with prelusive last-lays ! Behold ye those there, in the household seated, — Young ones, — of dreams approaching to the figures ? Children, as if they died by their beloveds — Hands they have filled with flesh, the meal domestic — Entrails and vitals both, most piteous burthen, Plain they are holding ! — which their father tasted ! For this, I say, plans punishment a certain Lion ignoble, on the bed that wallows, House-guard (ah, me !) to the returning master — Mine, since to bear the slavish yoke behoves me ! The ships' commander, Ilion's desolator, Knows not what things the tongue of the lewd she-dog Speaking, outspreading, shiny-souled, in fashion Of Ate" hid, will reach to, by ill fortune ! Such things she dares — the female, the male's slayer ! She is . . . how calling her the hateful bite-beast May I hit the mark ? Some amphisbaina — Skulla Housing in rocks, of mariners the mischief, Revelling Haides' mother, — curse, no truce with, Breathing at friends ! How piously she shouted, The all-courageous, as at turn of battle ! She seems to joy at the back-bringing safety ! Of this, too, if I naught persuade, all 's one ! Why ? What is to be will come ! And soon thou, present, " True prophet all too much " wilt pitying style me ! CHOROS. Thuestes' feast, indeed, on flesh of children, I went with, and I shuddered. Fear too holds me Listing what 's true as life, nowise out-imaged ! 38 AGAMEMNON KASSANDRA. I say, thou Agamemnon's fate shalt look on ! CHOKOS. Speak good words, O unhappy ! Set mouth sleeping! KASSANDRA. But Paian stands in no stead to the speech here. CHOKOS. Nay, if the thing be near : but never be it ! KASSANDRA. Thou, indeed, prayest : they to kill are busy! CHOKOS. Of what man is it ministered, this sorrow ? KASSAHDRA. There again, wide thou look'st of my foretellings. CHOROS. For, the fulfiller's scheme I have not gone with. KASSANDKA. And yet too well I know the speech Hellenic. CHOKOS. For Puthian oracles, thy speech, and hard too ! KASSANDRA. Papai : what fire this ! and it comes upon me ! Ototoi, Lukeion Apollon, ah me — me ! She, the two-footed lioness that sleeps with The wolf, in absence of the generous lion, Kills me the unhappy one : and as a poison Brewing, to put my price too in the anger, She vows, against her mate this weapon whetting To pay him back the bringing me, with slaughter. Why keep I then these things to make me laughed at, Both wands and, round my neck, oracular fillets ? Thee, at least, ere my own fate will I ruin : Go, to perdition falling ! Boons exchange we — Some other Ate 1 in my stead make wealthy ! See there — himself, Apollon stripping from me AGAMEMNON 39 The oracular garment ! having looked upon me — Even in these adornments, laughed by friends at, As good as foes, i' the balance weighed : and vainly — For, called crazed stroller, — as I had been gypsy, Beggar, unhappy, starved to death, — I bore it. And now the Prophet — prophet me undoing, Has led away to these so deadly fortunes ! Instead of my sire's altar, waits the hack-block She struck with first warm bloody sacrificing ! Yet nowise unavenged of gods will death be : For there shall come another, our avenger, The mother-slaying scion, father's doomsman : Fugitive, wanderer, from this land an exile, Back shall he come, — for friends, copestone these curses ! For there is sworn a great oath from the gods that Him shall bring hither his fallen sire's prostration. Why make I then, like an indweller, moaning ? Since at the first I foresaw Dion's city Suffering as it has suffered : and who took it, Thus by the judgment of the gods are faring. I go, will suffer, will submit to dying ! But, Haides' gates — these same I call, I speak to, And pray that on an opportune blow chancing, "Without a struggle, — blood the calm death bringing In easy outflow, — I this eye may close up ! CHOEOS. O much unhappy, but, again, much learned Woman, long hast thou outstretched ! But if truly Thou knowest thine own fate, how comes that, like to A god-led steer, to altar bold thou treadest ? KASSANDRA. There 's no avoidance, — strangers, no ! Some time more ! CHOKOS. He last is, anyhow, by time advantaged. KASSANDEA. It comes, the day : I shall by flight gain little. CHOEOS. But know thoupatient art from thy brave spirit ! KASSANDEA. Such things hears no one of the happy-fortuned. 40 AGAMEMNON CHOKOS. But gloriously to die — for man is grace, sure ! KASSANDKA. Ah, sire, for thee and for thy noble children ! CHOROS. But what thing is it ? What fear turns thee backwards ? KASSANDKA. Alas, alas ! CHOKOS. Why this " alas " ? if 't is no spirit's loathing . . . KASSANDKA. Slaughter blood-dripping does the household smell of ! CHOKOS. How else ? This scent is of hearth-sacrifices. KASSANDRA. Such kind of steam as from a tomb is proper ! CHOEOS. No Surian honor to the House thou speak'st of ! KASSANDKA. But I will go, — even in the household wailing My fate and Agamemnon's. Life suffice me ! Ah, strangers ! I cry not " ah " — as bird at bush — through terror Idly ! to me, the dead thus much bear witness : When, for me — woman, there shall die a woman, And, for a man ill-wived, a man shall perish ! This hospitality I ask as dying. CHOEOS. O sufferer, thee — thy foretold fate I pity. KASSANDKA. Yet once for all, to speak a speech, I fain am : No dirge, mine for myself ! The sun I pray to, Fronting his last light ! — to my own avengers — That from my hateful slayers they exact too Pay for the dead slave — easy-managed hand's-work ! AGAMEMNON 41 CHOBOS. Alas for mortal matters ! Happy-fortuned, — Why, any shade would turn them : if unhappy, By throws the wetting sponge has spoiled the picture ! And more by much in mortals this I pity. The being well-to-do — Insatiate a desire of this Born with all mortals is, Nor any is there who Wellbeing forces off, aroints From roofs whereat a finger points, " No more come in ! " exclaiming. This man, too, To take the city of Priamos did the celestials give, And, honored by the god, he homeward comes ; But now if, of the former, he shall pay The blood back, and, for those who ceased to live, Dying, for deaths in turn new punishment he dooms — Who, being mortal, would not pray With an unmischievous Daimon to have been born — who would not, hearing thus ? AGAMEMNON. Ah me ! I am struck — a right-aimed stroke within me ! CHOBOS. Silence ! Who is it shouts " stroke " — " right-aimedly " a wounded one ? AGAMEMNON. Ah me ! indeed again, — a second, struck by ! CHOBOS. This work seems to me completed by this "Ah me" of the king's ; But we somehow may together share in solid counsellings. CHOBOS I. I, in the first place, my opinion tell you : — To cite the townsmen, by help-cry, to house here. choeos n. To me, it seems we ought to fall upon them At quickest — prove the fact by sword fresh-flowing ! 42 AGAMEMNON chokos ni. And I, of such opinion the partaker, Vote — to do something : not to wait — the main point ! CHOROS IT. 'T is plain to see : for they prelude as though of A tyranny the signs they gave the city. choeos v. For we waste time ; while they, — this waiting 's glory Treading to ground, — allow the hand no slumber. CHOKOS VI. I know not — chancing on some plan — to tell it : 'T is for the doer to plan of the deed also. CHOKOS VII. And I am such another : since I 'm schemeless How to raise up again by words — a dead man ! chokos vni. What, and, protracting life, shall we give way thus To the disgracers of our home, these rulers ? CHOKOS IX. Why, 't is unbearable : but to die is better : For death than tyranny is the riper finish ! CHOKOS x. What, by the testifying " Ah me " of him, Shall we prognosticate the man as perished? CHOKOS XI. We must quite know ere speak these things concerning : For to conjecture and " quite know " are two things. CHOROS XII. This same to praise I from all sides abound in — Clearly to know, Atreides, what he 's doing ! KLUTAIMNESTRA. Much having been before to purpose spoken, The opposite to say I shall not shamed be : For how should one, to enemies, — in semblance, Friends, — enmity proposing, — sorrow's net-frame AGAMEMNON 43 Enclose, a height superior to outleaping ? To me, indeed, this struggle of old — not mindless Of an old victory — came : with time, I grant you ! I stand where I have struck, things once accomplished : And so have done, — and this deny I shall not, — As that his fate was nor to fly nor ward off. A wrap-round with no outlet, as for fishes, I fence about him — the rich woe of the garment : I strike him twice, and in a double " Ah-me ! " He let his limbs go — there ! And to him, fallen, The third blow add I, giving — of Below-ground Zeus, guardian of the dead — the votive favor. Thus in the mind of him he rages, falling, And blowing forth a brisk blood-spatter, strikes me With the dark drop of slaughterous dew — rejoicing No less than, at the god-given dewy-comfort, The sown-stuff in its birth-throes from the calyx. Since so these things are, — Argives, my revered here, — Ye may rejoice — if ye rejoice : but I — boast ! If it were fit on corpse to pour libation, That would be right — right over and above, too ! The cup of evils in the house he, having Filled with such curses, himself coming drinks of. CHOEOS. We wonder at thy tongue : since bold-mouthed truly Is she who in such speech boasts o'er her husband ! KLUTAmSTESTRA. Ye test me as I were a witless woman : But I — with heart intrepid — to you knowers Say (and thou — if thou wilt or praise or blame me, Comes to the same) — this man is Agamemnon, My husband, dead, the work of the right hand here, Ay, of a just artificer : so things are. CHOROS. What evil, O woman, food or drink, earth-bred Or sent from the flowing sea, Of such having fed Didst thou set on thee This sacrifice And popular cries Of a curse on thy head ? Off thou hast thrown him, off hast cut The man from the city : but — 44 . AGAMEMNON Off from the city thyself shalt be Cut — to the citizens A hate immense ! KLUTAEtfNESTRA. Now, indeed, thou adjudgest exile to me, And citizens' hate, and to have popular curses : Nothing of this against the man here bringing, Who, no more awe-checked than as 't were a beast's fate, — With sheep abundant in the well-fleeced graze-flocks, — Sacrificed his child, — dearest fruit of travail To me, — as song-spell against Threkian blowings. Not him did it behove thee hence to banish — Pollutions penalty ? But hearing my deeds Justicer rough thou art ! Now, this I tell thee : To threaten thus — me, one prepared to have thee (On like conditions, thy hand conquering) o'er me Rule : but if God the opposite ordain us, Thou, shalt learn — late taught, certes — to be modest. CHOEOS. Greatly-intending thou art : Much-mindful, too, hast thou cried (Since thy mind, with its slaughter-outpouring part, Is frantic) that over the eyes, a patch Of blood — with blood to match — Is plain for a pride ! Yet still, bereft of friends, thy fate Is — blow with blow to expiate ! KXUTAIMNESTRA. And this thou hearest — of my oaths, just warrant ! By who fulfilled things for my daughter, Justice, Ate 1 , Erinus, — by whose help I slew him, — Not mine the fancy — Fear will tread my palace So long as on my hearth there burns a fire, Aigisthos as before well-caring for me ; Since he to me is shield, no small, of boldness. Here does he lie — outrager of this female, Dainty of all the Chruseids under Ilion ; And she — the captive, the soothsayer also And couchmate of this man, oracle-speaker, Faithful bedfellow, — ay, the sailors' benches They wore in common, nor unpunished did so, Since he is — thus ! While, as for her, — swan-fashion, Her latest having chanted, — dying wailing AGAMEMNON 45 She lies, — to him, a sweetheart : me she brought to My bed's by-nicety, the whet of dalliance. OHOKOS. Alas, that some Fate would come Upon us in quickness — Neither much sickness Neither bed-keeping — And bear unended sleeping, Now that subdued Is our keeper, the kindest of mood ! Having borne, for a woman's sake, much strife — By a woman he withered from life ! Ah me ! Law-breaking Helena who, one, Hast many, so many souls undone 'Neath Troia ! and now the consummated Much-memorable curse Hast thou made flower-forth, red With the blood no rains disperse, That which was then in the House — Strife all-subduing, the woe of a spouse. KLUTAIMNDSTBA. Nowise, of death the fate — Burdened by these things — supplicate ! Nor on Helena turn thy wrath As the man-destroyer, as " she who hath, Being but one, Many and many a soul undone Of the men, the Danaoi " — And wrought immense annoy ! CHOROS. Daimon, who fallest Upon this household and the double-raced Tantalidai, a rule, minded like theirs displaced, Thou rulest me with, now, Whose heart thou gallest ! And on the body, like a hateful crow, Stationed, all out of tune, his chant to chant Doth something vaunt ! KLTTTAIMTTESTRA. Now, of a truth, hast thou set upright Thy mouth's opinion, — 46 AGAMEMNON Naming the Sprite, The triply-gross, O'er the race that has dominion : For through him it is that Eros The camage-licker In the belly is bred : ere ended quite Is the elder throe-— new ichor ! CHOKOS. Certainly, great of might And heavy of wrath, the Sprite Thou tellest of, in the palace (Woe, woe !) — An evil tale of a fate By Ate"'s malice Rendered insatiate ! Oh, oh,— King, king, how shall I beweep thee ? From friendly soul what ever say ? Thou liest where webs of the spider o'ersweep thee ; In impious death, life breathing away. O me — me ! This couch, not free ! By a slavish death subdued thou art, From the hand, by the two-edged dart. KLUTAIMNESTKA. Thou boastest this deed to be mine : But leave off styling me " The Agamemnonian wife ! " For, showing himself in sign Of the spouse of tbe corpse thou dost see, Did the ancient bitter avenging-ghost Of Atreus, savage host, Pay the man here as price — A full-grown for the young one's sacrifice. CHOROS. That no cause, indeed, of this killing art thou, Who shall be witness-bearer ? How shall he bear it — how ? But the sire's avenging-ghost might be in the deed a sharer. He is forced on and on By the kin-born flowing of blood, — Black Ares : to where, having gone, He shall leave off, flowing done, AGAMEMNON 47 At the frozen-child's-flesh food. King, king, how shall I beweep thee ! From friendly soul what ever say ? Thou liest where webs of the spider o'ersweep thee, In impious death, life breathing away. Oh, me — me ! This couch not free ! By a slavish death subdued thou art, From the hand, by the two-edged dart. KXUTAIMNESTKA. No death " unfit for the free " Do I think this man's to be : For did not himself a slavish curse To his household decree ? But the scion of him, myself did nurse — That much-bewailed Iphigeneia, he Having done well by, — and as well, nor worse, Been done to, — let him not in Haides loudly Bear himself proudly ! Being by sword-destroying death amerced For that sword's punishment himself inflicted first. CHOKOS. I at a loss am left — Of a feasible scheme of mind bereft — Where I may turn : for the house is falling : I fear the bloody crash of the rain That ruins the roof as it bursts amain : The warning-drop Has come to a stop. Destiny doth Justice whet For other deed of hurt, on other whetstones yet. Woe, earth, earth — would thou hadst taken me Ere I saw the man I see, On the pallet-bed Of the silver-sided bath-vase, dead ! Who is it shall bury him, who Sing his dirge ? Can it be true That thou wilt dare this same to do — Having slain thy husband, thine own, To make his funeral moan : And for the soul of him, in place Of his mighty deeds, a graceless grace To wickedly institute ? By whom Shall the tale of praise o'er the tomb 48 AGAMEMNON At the god-like man be sent — From the truth of his mind as he toils intent ? KLUTAIMNESTKA. It belongs not to thee to declare This object of care ! By us did he fall — down there ! Did he die — down there ! and down, no less, We will bury him there, and not beneath The wails of the household over his death : But Iphigeneia, — with kindliness, — His daughter, — as the case requires, Facing him full, at the rapid-flowing Passage of Groans shall — both hands throwing Around him — kiss that kindest of sires ! CHOKOS. This blame comes in the place of blame : Hard battle it is to judge each claim. " He is borne away who bears away : And the killer has all to pay." And this remains while Zeus is remaining, " The doer shall suffer in time " — for, such his ordaining. Who may cast out of the House its cursed brood ? The race is to At^ glued ! KLUTAIMKESTEA. Thou hast gone into this oracle With a true result. For me, then, — I will — To the Daimon of the Pleisthenidai Making an oath — with all these things comply Hard as they are to bear. For the rest — Going from out this House, a guest, May he wear some other family To naught, with the deaths of kin by kin ! And — keeping a little part of my goods — Wholly am I contented in Having expelled from the royal House These frenzied moods The mutually-murderous. AIGISTHOS. light propitious of day justice-bringing ! 1 may say truly, now, that men's avengers, The gods from high, of earth behold the sorrows — Seeing, as I have, i' the spun robes of the Erinues, AGAMEMNON This man here lying, — sight to me N how pleasant ! — His father's hands' contrivances repaying. For Atreus, this land's lord, of this man father, Thuestes, my own father — to speak clearly — His brother too, — being i' the rule contested, — Drove forth to exile from both town and household : And, coming back, to the hearth turned, a suppliant, Wretched Thuestes found the fate assured him — Not to die, bloodying his paternal threshold Just there : but host-wise this man's impious father Atreus, soul-keenly more than kindly, — seeming To joyous hold a flesh-day, — to my father Served up a meal, the flesh of his own children. The feet indeed and the hands' top divisions He hid, high up and isolated sitting : But, their unshowing parts in ignorance taking, He forthwith eats food — as thou seest — perdition To the race : and then, 'ware of the deed ill-omened, He shrieked O ! — falls back, vomiting, from the carnage, And fate on the Pelopidai past bearing He prays down — putting in his curse together The kicking down o' the feast — that so might perish The race of Pleisthenes entire : and thence is That it is given thee to see this man prostrate. And I was rightly of this slaughter stitch-man : Since me, — being third from ten, — with my poor father He drives out — being then a babe in swathe-bands : But, grown up, back again has justice brought me : And of this man I got hold — being without-doors — Fitting together the whole scheme of ill-will. So, sweet, in fine, even to die were to me, Seeing, as I have, this man i' the toils of justice ! CHOKOS. Aigisthos, arrogance in ills I love not. Dost thou say — willing, thou didst kill the man here, And, alone, plot this lamentable slaughter ? I say — thy head in justice will escape not The people's throwing — know that ! — stones and curses ! AIGISTHOS. Thou such things soundest — seated at the lower Oarage to those who rule at the ship's mid-bench ? Thou shalt know, being old, how heavy is teaching To one of the like age — bidden be modest ! But chains and old age and the pangs of fasting 50 AGAMEMNON Stand out before all else in teaching, — prophets At souls'-cure ! Dost not, seeing aught, see this too ? Against goads kick not, lest tript-up thou suffer ! CHOEOS. Woman, thou, — of him coming new from battle Houseguard — thy husband's bed the while disgracing, — For the Army-leader didst thou plan this fate too ? AIGISTHOS. These words too are of groans the prime-begetters ! Truly a tongue opposed to Orpheus hast thou : For he led all things by his voice's grace-charm, But thou, upstirring them by these wild yelpings, Wilt lead them ! Forced, thou wilt appear the tamer ! CHOEOS. So — thou shalt be my king then of the Argeians — Who, not when for this man his fate thou plannedst, Daredst to do this deed — thyself the slayer ! AIGISTHOS. For, to deceive him was the wife's part, certes : / was looked after — foe, ay, old-begotten ! But out of this man's wealth will I endeavor To rule the citizens : and the no-man-minder — Him will I heavily yoke — by no means trace-horse, A corned-up colt ! but that bad friend in darkness, Famine its housemate, shall behold him gentle. CHOEOS. Why then, this man here, from a coward spirit, Didst not thou slay thyself ? But, — helped, — a woman, The country's pest, and that of gods o' the country, Killed him ! Orestes, where may he see light now ? That coming hither back, with gracious fortune, Of both these he may be the all-conquering slayer ? AIGISTHOS. But since this to do thou thinkest — and not talk — thou soon shalt know ! Up then, comrades dear ! the proper thing to do — not distant this ! CHOEOS. Up then ! hilt in hold, his sword let every one aright dispose ! AGAMEMNON { AIGISTHOS. Ay, but I myself too, hilt in hold, do not refuse to die ! CHOEOS. Thou wilt die, thou say'st, to who accept it. We the chan demand ! KLUTAIMNESTBA. Nowise, O belovedest of men, may we do other ills ! To have reaped away these, even, is a harvest much to me ! Go, both thou and these the old men, to the homes appoint each, Ere ye suffer ! It behoved one do these things just as we di< And if of these troubles, there should be enough — we mi assent — By the Daimon's heavy heel unfortunately stricken ones ! So a woman's counsel hath it — if one judge it learning-worth AIGISTHOS. But to think that these at me the idle tongue should thus o'< bloom, And throw out such words — the Daimon's power experimentii on — And, of modest knowledge missing, — me, the ruler, . . . CHOROS. Ne'er may this befall Argeians — wicked man to fawn before AIGISTHOS. Anyhow, in after-days, will I, yes, I, be at thee yet ! CHOEOS. Not if hither should the Daimon make Orestes straightws come! AIGISTHOS. O, I know, myself, that fugitives on hopes are pasture-fed ! CHOEOS. Do thy deed, get fat, defiling justice, since the power is thine ! AIGISTHOS. Know that thou shalt give me satisfaction for this folly's sake 52 AGAMEMNON CHOEOS. Boast on, bearing thee audacious, like a cock his females by ! KLUTAIMNESTEA. Have not thou respect for these same idle yelpings ! I and thou Will arrange it, ruling o'er this household excellently well. LA SAISIAZ DEDICATED TO MKS. SUTHERLAND ORB. Good, to forgive ; Best, to forget ! Living, we fret ; Dying, we live. Fretless and free, Soul, clap thy pinion ! Earth have dominion, Body, o'er thee ! ii. Wander at will, Day after day, — Wander away, Wandering still — Soul that canst soar ! Body may slumber : Body shall cumber Soul-flight no more. Waft of soul's wing ! What lies above ? Sunshine and Love, Skyblue and Spring ! Body hides — where ? Ferns of all feather, Mosses and heather, Yours be the care ! 54 LA SA1SIAZ LA SAISIAZ. A. E. & Septembeb 14, 1877. Daked and done : at last I stand upon the summit, Dear and True ! Singly dared and done ; the climbing both of us were bound to do. Petty feat and yet prodigious : every side my glance was bent O'er the grandeur and the beauty lavished through the whole ascent. Ledge by ledge, out broke new marvels, now minute and now immense : Earth's most exquisite disclosure, heaven's own God in evidence f And no berry in its hiding, no blue space in its outspread, Pleaded to escape my footstep, challenged my emerging head, (As I climbed or paused from climbing, now o'erbranched by shrub and tree, Now built round by rock and boulder, now at just a turn set free, Stationed face to face with — Nature ? rather with Infinitude,) — No revealment of them all, as singly I my path pursued, But a bitter touched its sweetness, for the thought stung " Even so Both of us had loved and wondered just the same, five days ago ! " Five short days, sufficient hardly to entice, from out its den Splintered in the slab, this pink perfection of the cyclamen ; Scarce enough to heal and coat with amber gum the sloe-tree's gash, Bronze the clustered wilding apple, redden ripe the mountain- ash: Yet of might to place between us — Oh the barrier ! Yon Profound Shrinks beside it, proves a pin-point : barrier this, without a bound ! Boundless though it be, I reach you : somehow seem to have you here — Who are there. Yes, there you dwell now, plain the four low walls appear ; Those are vineyards, they enclose from ; and the little spire which points — That 's Collonge, henceforth your dwelling. All the same, howe'er disjoints Past from present, no less certain you are here, not there : have dared, LA SA1SIAZ 55 Done the feat of mountain-climbing, — five days since, we both prepared Daring, doing, arm in arm, if other help should haply fail. For you asked, as forth we sallied to see sunset from the vale, " Why not try for once the mountain, — take a foretaste, snatch by stealth Sight and sound, some unconsidered fragment of the hoarded wealth ? Six weeks at its base, yet never once have we together won Sight or sound by honest climbing : let us two have dared and done Just so much of twilight journey as may prove to-morrow's jaunt Not the only mode of wayfare — wheeled to reach the eagle's haunt ! " So, we turned from the low grass-path you were pleased to call " your own," Set our faces to the rose-bloom o'er the summit's front of stone Where Saleve obtains, from Jura and the sunken sun she hides, Due return of blushing " Good Night," rosy as a borne-off bride's, For his masculine " Good Morrow " when, with sunrise still in hold, Gay he hails her, and, magnific, thrilled her black length burns to gold. Up and up we went, how careless — nay, how joyous ! All was new, All was strange. "Call progress toilsome? that were just in» suiting you ! How the trees must temper noontide ! Ah, the thicket's sUd- den break ! What will be the morning glory, when at dusk thus gleams /the lake? Light by light puts forth Geneva : what a land — and, of the land, Can there be a lovelier station than this spot where now we stand ? Is it late, and wrong to linger ? True, to-morrow makes amends. Toilsome progress ? child's play, call it — specially when one descends ! There, the dread descent is over — hardly our adventure, though ! Take the vale where late we left it, pace the grass-path, ' mine,' you know ! Proud completion of achievement ! " And we paced it, prais- ing still That soft tread on velvet verdure as it wound through hill and hill; 56 LA SAIS1AZ And at, very end there met us, coining from Collonge, the pair — All our people of the Chalet — two, enough and none to spare. So, we made for home together, and we reached it as the stars One by one came lamping — chiefly that prepotency of Mars — And your last word was " I owe you this enjoyment ! " — met with " Nay : With yourself it rests to have a month of morrows like to-day ! " Then the meal, with talk and laughter, and the news of that rare nook Yet untroubled by the tourist, touched on by no travel-book, All the same — though latent — patent, hybrid birth of land and sea, And (our travelled friend assured you) — if such miracle might be — Comparable for completeness of both blessings — all around Nature, and, inside her circle, safety from world's sight and sound — Comparable to our Saisiaz. " Hold it fast and guard it well ! Go and see and vouch for certain, then come back and never tell Living soul but us ; and haply, prove our sky from cloud as ' clear, fThere may we four meet, praise fortune just as now, another year!" Thus you charged him on departure : not without the final charge, " Mind to-morrow's early meeting ! We must leave our journey > marge Airaple for the wayside wonders : there 's the stoppage at the ' inn Three-parts up the mountain, where the hardships of the track begin; There 's the convent worth a visit ; but, the triumph crowning all — There 's Saleve's own platform facing glory which strikes great- ness small, — Blanc, supreme above his earth-brood, needles red and white and green, Horns of silver, fangs of crystal set on edge in his demesne. So, some three weeks since, we saw them : so, to-morrow we intend You shall see them likewise ; therefore Good Night till to-mor- row, friend ! " Last, the nothings that extinguish embers of a vivid day : " What might be the Marshal's next move, what Gambetta's counter-play ? " LA SAISIAZ 57 Til] the landing on the staircase saw escape the latest spark : " Sleep you well ! " " Sleep but as well, you ! " — lazy love quenched, all was dark. Nothing dark next day at sundawn ! Up I rose and forth I fared : Took my plunge within the bath-pool, pacified the watch-dog scared, Saw proceed the transmutation — Jura's black to one gold glow, Trod your level path that let me drink the morning deep and slow, Reached the little quarry — ravage recompensed by shrub and fern — Till the overflowing ardors told me time was for return. So, return I did, and gayly. But, for once, from no far mound Waved salute a tall white figure. " Has her sleep been so pro- found ? Foresight, rather, prudent saving strength for day's expendi- ture ! Ay, the chamber-window 's open : out and on the terrace, sure ! " No, the terrace showed no figure, tall, white, leaning through the wreaths, Tangle-twine of leaf and bloom that intercept the air one breathes, Interpose between one's love and Nature's loving, hill and dale Down to where the blue lake's wrinkle marks the river's inrush pale — Mazy Arve : whereon no vessel but goes sliding white and plain, Not a steamboat pants from harbor but one hears pulsate amain, Past the city's congregated peace of homes and pomp of spires — Man's mild protest that there 's something more than Nature, man requires, And that, useful as is Nature to attract the tourist's foot, Quiet slow sure money-making proves the matter's very root, — Need for body, — while the spirit also needs a comfort reached By no help of lake or mountain, but the texts whence Calvin preached. " Here 's the veil withdrawn from landscape : up to Jura and beyond, All awaits us ranged and ready ; yet she violates the bond, Neither leans nor looks nor listens : why is this ? " A turn of eye Took the whole sole answer, gave the undisputed reason " why ! " 58 LA SAISIAZ This dread way you had your summons ! No premonitory touch, As you talked and laughed ('t is told me) scarce a minute ere the clutch Captured you in cold forever. Cold ? nay, warm you were as life When I raised you, while the others used, in passionate poor strife, All the means that seemed to promise any aid, and all in vain. Gone you were, and I shall never see that earnest face again Grow transparent, grow transfigured with the sudden light that leapt, At the first word's provocation, from the heart-deeps where it slept. Therefore, paying piteous duty, what seemed You have we con- signed Peacefully to — what I think were, of all earth-beds, to your mind Most the choice for quiet, yonder : low walls stop the vines' ap- proach, Lovingly Saleve protects you ; village-sports will ne'er encroach On the stranger lady's silence, whom friends bore so kind and well Thither " just for love's sake," — such their own word was : and who can tell ? You supposed that few or none had known and loved you in the world : Maybe ! flower that 's full-blown tempts the butterfly, not flower that 's furled. But more learned sense unlocked you, loosed the sheath and let expand Bud to bell and outspread flower-shape at the least warm touch of hand — Maybe, throb of heart, beneath which — quickening farther than it knew — Treasure oft was disembosomed, scent all strange and unguessed hue. Disembosomed, re-embosomed, — must one memory suffice, Prove I knew an Alpine-rose which all beside named Edelweiss ? Rare thing, red or white, you rest now : two days slumbered through; and since One day more will see me rid of this same scene whereat I wince, Tetchy at all sights and sounds and pettish at each idle charm Proffered me who pace now singly where we two went arm in arm, — LA SAISIAZ 59 I have turned upon my weakness : asked, " And what, forsooth, prevents That, this latest day allowed me, I fulfil of her intents One she had the most at heart — that we should thus again survey From Saleve Mont Blanc together ? " Therefore, — dared and done to-day Climbing, — here I stand : but you — where ? ^ If a spirit of the place Broke the silence, bade me question, promised answer, — what disgrace Did I stipulate " Provided answer suit my hopes, not fears ! " Would I shrink to learn my lifetime's limit — days, weeks, months or years ? Would I shirk assurance on each point whereat I can but guess — " Does the soul survive the body ? Is there God's self, no or yes?" If I know my mood, 't were constant — come in whatsoe'er uncouth Shape it should, nay, formidable — so the answer were but truth. Well, and wherefore shall it daunt me, when 't is I myself am tasked, When, by weakness weakness questioned, weakly answers — weakly asked ? Weakness never needs be falseness: truth is truth in each degree — Thunder-pealed by God to Nature, whispered by my soul to me. Nay, the weakness turns to strength and triumphs in a truth beyond : " Mine is but man's truest answer — how were it did God re- spond ? " I shall no more dare to mimic such response in futile speech, Pass off human lisp as echo of the sphere-song out of reach, Than, — because it well may happen yonder, where the far snows blanch Mute Mont Blanc, that who stands near them sees and hears an avalanche, — I shall pick a clod and throw, — cry, " Such the sight and such the sound ! What though I nor see nor hear them ? Others do, the proofs abound ! " 60 LA SAISIAZ Can I make my eye an eagle's, sharpen ear to recognize Sound o'er league and league of silence ? Can I know, who but surmise ? If I dared no self-deception when, a week since, I and you Walked and talked along the grass-path, passing lightly in re- view What seemed hits and what seemed misses in a certain fence- play, — strife Sundry minds of mark engaged in " On the Soul and Future Life," — If I ventured estimating what was come of parried thrust, Subtle stroke, and, rightly, wrongly, estimating could be just — Just, though life so seemed abundant in the form which moved by mine, I might well have played at feigning, fooling, — laughed " What need opine Pleasure must succeed to pleasure, else past pleasure turns to pain, And this first life claims a second, else I count its good no gain ? " — Much less have I heart to palter when the matter to decide Now becomes " Was ending ending once and always, when you died?" Did the face, the form I lifted as it lay, reveal the loss Not alone of life but soul ? A tribute to yon flowers and moss, What of you remains beside ? A memory ! Easy to attest " Certainly from out the world that one believes who knew her best Such was good in her, such fair, which fair and good were great perchance Had but fortune favored, bidden each shy faculty advance ; After all — who knows another ? Only as I know, I speak." So much of you lives within me while I live my year or week. Then my fellow takes the tale up, not unwilling to aver Duly in his turn, " I knew him. best of all, as he knew her : Such he was, and such he was not, and such other might have been But that somehow every actor, somewhere in this earthly scene, Fails." And so both memories dwindle, yours and mine to- gether linked, Till there is but left for comfort, when the last spark proves extinct, This — that somewhere new existence led by men and women new Possibly attains perfection coveted by me and you ; While ourselves, the only witness to what work our life evolved LA SAIS1AZ 61 Only to ourselves proposing problems proper to be solved By ourselves alone, — who working ne'er shall know if work bear fruit Others reap and garner, heedless how produced by stalk and root, — We who, darkling, timed the day's birth, — struggling, testified to peace, — Earned, by dint of failure, triumph, — we, creative thought, must cease In created word, thought's echo, due to impulse long since sped ! Why repine ? There 's ever some one lives although ourselves be dead ! Well, what signifies repugnance ? Truth is truth howe'er it strike. Fair or foul the lot apportioned life on earth, we bear alike. Stalwart body idly yoked to stunted spirit, powers, that fain Else would soar, condemned to grovel, groundlings through the fleshly chain, — Help that hinders, hindrance proved but help disguised when all too late, — Hindrance is the fact acknowledged, howsoe'er explained as Fate, Fortune, Providence : we bear, own life a burden more or less. Life thus owned unhappy, is there supplemental happiness Possible and probable in life to come ? or must we count Life a curse and not a blessing, summed-up in its whole amount, Help and hindrance, joy and sorrow ? Why should I want courage here ? I will ask and have an answer, — with no favor, with no fear, — From myself. How much, how little, do I inwardly believe True that controverted doctrine ? Is it fact to which I cleave, Is it fancy I but cherish, when I take upon my lips Phrase the solemn Tuscan fashioned, and declare the soul's eclipse Not the soul's extinction ? take his " I believe and I declare — Certain am I — from this life I pass into a better, there Where that lady lives of whom enamored was my soul" — where this Other lady, my companion dear and true, she also is ? I have questioned and am answered. Question, answer pre- suppose Two points : that the thing itself which questions, answers, — is, it knows ; As it also knows the thing perceived outside itself, — a force Actual ere its own beginning, operative through its course, Unaffected by its end, — that this thing likewise needs must be ; 62 LA SAISIAZ Call this — God, then, call that— soul, and both— the only facts for me. Prove them facts? that they o'erpass my power of proving, proves them such : Fact it is I know I know not something which is fact as much. What before caused all the causes, what effect of all effects Haply follows, — these are fancy. Ask the rush if it suspects Whence and how the stream which floats it had a rise, and where and how Falls or flows on still ! What answer makes the rush except that now Certainly it floats and is, and, no less certain than itself, Is the everyway external stream that now through shoal and shelf Floats it onward, leaves it — maybe — wrecked at last, or lands on shore There to root again and grow and flourish stable evermore. — Maybe ! mere surmise not knowledge : much conjecture styled belief, What the rush conceives the stream means through the voyage blind and brief. Why, because I doubtless am, shall I as doubtless be ? " Be- cause God seems good and wise." Yet under this our life's apparent laws Keigns a wrong which, righted once, would give quite other laws to life. " He seems potent." Potent here, then : why are right and wrong at strife ? Has in life the wrong the better ? Happily life ends so soon ! Right predominates in life? Then why two lives and double boon ? " Anyhow, _ we want it : wherefore want ? " Because, without the want, Life, now human, would be brutish : just that hope, however scant, Makes the actual life worth leading; take the hope therein away, All we have to do is surely not endure another day. This life has its hopes for this life, hopes that promise joy : life done — Out of all the hopes, how many had complete fulfilment ? none. " But the soul is not the body : " and the breath is not the flute; Both together make the music : either marred and all is mute. Truce to such old sad contention whence, according as we shape Most of hope or most of fear, we issue in a half-escape : LA SAISIAZ 63 " We believe " is sighed. I take the cup of comfort proffered thus, Taste and try each soft ingredient, sweet infusion, and discuss What their blending may accomplish for the cure of doubt, till — slow, Sorrowful, but how decided ! needs must I o'erturn it — so ! Cause before, effect behind me — blanks ! The midway point I am, Caused, itself — itself efficient : in that narrow space must cram All experience — out of which there crowds conjecture manifold, But, as knowledge, this comes only — things maybe as I behold, Or may not be, but, without me and above me, things there are ; I myself am what I know not — ignorance which proves no bar To the knowledge that I am, and, since I am, can recognize What to me is pain and pleasure : this is sure, the rest — sur- mise. If my fellows are or are not, what may please them and what pain, — Mere surmise : my own experience — that is knowledge, once again ! I have lived, then, done and suffered, loved and hated, learnt and taught This — there is no reconciling wisdom with a world distraught, Goodness with triumphant evil, power with failure in the aim, If — (to my own sense, remember ! though none other feel the same !) — If you bar me from assuming earth to be a pupil's place, And life, time — with all their chances, changes — just proba- tion-space, Mine, for me. But those apparent other mortals — theirs, for them? Knowledge stands on my experience : all outside its narrow hem, Free surmise may sport and welcome ! Pleasures, pains affect mankind Just as they affect myself ? Why, here 's my neighbor color- blind, Eyes like mine to all appearance : " green as grass " do I af- firm ? " Red as grass " he contradicts me ; — which employs the proper term? Were we two the earth's sole tenants, with no third for referee, How should I distinguish ? Just so, God must judge 'twixt man and me. To each mortal peradventure earth becomes a new machine, 64 LA SA1SIAZ Pain and pleasure no more tally in our sense than red and green ; Still, without what seems such mortal's pleasure, pain, my life were lost — Life, my whole sole chance to prove — although at man's ap- parent cost — What is beauteous and what ugly, right to strive for, right to shun, Fit to help and fit to hinder, — prove my forces every one, Good and evil, — learn life's lesson, hate of evil, love of good, As 't is set me, understand so much as may be understood — Solve the problem : " From thine apprehended scheme of things, deduce Praise or blame of its contriver, shown a niggard or profuse In each good or evil issue ! nor miscalculate alike Counting one the other in the final balance, which to strike, Soul was born and life allotted : ay, the show of things unfurled For thy summing-up and judgment, — thine, no other mortal's world ! " What though fancy scarce may grapple with the complex and immense — " His own world for every mortal ? " Postulate omnipo- tence ! Limit power, and simple grows the complex : shrunk to atom size, That which loomed immense to fancy low before my reason lies, — I survey it and pronounce it work like other work : success Here and there, the workman's glory, — here and there, his shame no less, Failure as conspicuous. Taunt not " Human work ape work divine ? " As the power, expect performance ! God's be God's as mine is mine ! God whose power made man and made man's wants, and made, to meet those wants, Heaven and earth which, through the body, prove the spirit's ministrants, Excellently all, — did He lack power or was the will in fault When He let blue heaven be shrouded o'er by vapors of the vault, Gay earth drop her garlands shrivelled at the first infecting breath Of the serpent pains which herald, swarming in, the dragon death ? What, no way but this that man may learn and lay to heart how rife LA SAISIAZ 65 Life were with delights would only death allow their taste to - life? Must the rose sigh " Pluck — I perish ! " must the eve weep "Gaze — I fade!" — Every sweet warn " 'Ware my bitter ! " every shine bid " Wait my shade " ? Can we love but on condition, that the thing we love must die ? Needs there groan a world in anguish just to teach us sym- pathy — Multitudinously wretched that we, wretched too, may guess What a preferable state were universal happiness ? Hardly do I so conceive the outcome of that power which went To the making of the worm there in yon clod its tenement, Any more than I distinguish aught of that which, wise and good, Framed the leaf, its plain of pasture, dropped the dew, its fine- less food. Nay, were fancy fact, were earth and all it holds illusion mere, Only a machine for teaching love and hate and hope and fear To myself, the sole existence, single truth 'mid falsehood, — well ! If the harsh throes of the, prelude die not off into the swell Of that perfect piece they sting me to become a-strain for, — if Roughness of the long rock-clamber lead not to the last of cliff, First of level country where is sward my pilgrim-foot can prize, — Plainlier ! if this life's conception new life fail to realize, — Though earth burst and proved a bubble glassing hues of hell, one huge Reflex of the devil's doings — God's work by no subterfuge — ■ (So death's kindly touch informed me as it broke the glamour, gave Soul and body both release from life's long nightmare in the grave) — Still, — with no more Nature, no more Man as riddle to be read, Only my own joys and sorrows now to reckon real instead, — I must say — or choke in silence — " Howsoever came my fate, Sorrow did and joy did nowise — life well weighed — pre- ponderate." By necessity ordained thus ? I shall bear as best I can ; By a cause all-good, all-wise, all-potent ? No, as I am man ! Such were God : and was it goodness that the good within my range Or had evil in admixture or grew evil's self by change ? Wisdom — that becoming wise meant making slow and sure advance 66 LA SAISIAZ From a knowledge proved in error to acknowledged ignorance ? Power? 'tis just the main assumption reason most revolts at ! power Unavailing for bestowment on its creature of an hour, Man, of so much proper action rightly aimed and reaching aim, So much passion, — no defect there, no excess, but still the same, — As what constitutes existence, pure perfection bright as brief For yon worm, man's fellow-creature, on yon happier world — its leaf ! No, as I am man, I mourn the poverty I must impute : Goodness, wisdom, power, all bounded, each a human attribute ! But, O world outspread beneath me ! only for myself I speak, Nowise dare to play the spokesman for my brothers strong and weak, Full and empty, wise and foolish, good and bad, in every age, Every clime, I turn my eyes from, as in one or other stage Of a torture writhe they, Job-like couched on dung and crazed with blains — Wherefore ? whereto ? ask the whirlwind what the dread voice thence explains ! I shall " vindicate no way of God's to man," nor stand apart, " Laugh, be candid," while I watch it traversing the human heart ! Traversed heart must tell its story uncommented on : no less Mine results in, " Only grant a second life ; I acquiesce In this present life as failure, count misfortune's worst assaults Triumph, not defeat, assured that loss so much the more exalts Gain about to be. For at what moment did I so advance Near to knowledge as when frustrate of escape from ignorance ? Did not beauty prove most precious when its opposite obtained Rule, and truth seem more than ever potent because falsehood reigned ? While for love — Oh how but, losing love, does whoso loves succeed Bv the death-pang to the birth-throe — learning what is love indeed ? Only grant my soul may carry high through death her cup un- spilled, Brimming though it be with knowledge, life's loss drop by drop distilled, I shall boast it mine — the balsam, bless each kindly wrench that wrung From life's tree its inmost virtue, tapped the root whence pleas- ure sprung, LA SAIS1AZ 67 Barked the bole, and broke the bough, and bruised the berry left all grace Ashes in death's stern alembic, loosed elixir in its place ! " Witness, Dear and True, how little I was 'ware of — not your worth, — That I knew, my heart assures me — but of what a shade on earth Would the passage from my presence of the tall white figure throw O'er the ways we walked together ! Somewhat narrow, some- what slow, Used to seem the ways, the walking : narrow ways are well to tread When there 's moss beneath the footstep, honeysuckle over- head : Walking slow to beating bosom surest solace soonest gives, Liberates the brain o'erloaded — best of all restoratives. Nay, do I forget the open vast where soon or late converged Ways though winding ? — world-wide heaven-high sea where music slept or surged As the angel had ascendant, and Beethoven's Titan mace Smote the immense to storm, Mozart would by a finger's lifting chase ? Yes, I knew — but not with knowledge such as thrills me while I view Yonder precinct which henceforward holds and hides the Dear and True. Grant me (once again) assurance we shall each meet each some day, Walk — but with how bold a footstep ! on a way — but what a way! — Worst were best, defeat were triumph, utter loss were utmost gain. Can it be, and must, and will it ? Silence ! Out of fact's domain, Just surmise prepared to mutter hope, and also fear — dispute Fact's inexorable ruling, " Outside fact, surmise be mute ! " Well ! Ay, well and best, if fact's self I may force the answer from ! 'T is surmise I stop the mouth of ! Not above in yonder dome All a rapture with its rose-glow, — not around, where pile and peak Strainingly await the sun's fall, — not beneath, where crickets creak, 68 LA SAISIAZ Birds assemble for their bedtime, soft the tree-top swell sub- sides, — No, nor yet within my deepest sentient self the knowledge hides. Aspiration, reminiscence, plausibilities of trust Now the ready " Man were wronged else," now the rash " and God unjust " — None of these I need. Take thou, my soul, thy solitary stand. Umpire to the champions Fancy, Reason, as on either hand Amicable war they wage and play the foe in thy behoof ! Fancy thrust and Reason parry ! Thine the prize who stand aloof ! FANCY. I concede the thing refused : henceforth no certainty more plain Than this mere surmise that after body dies soul lives again. Two, the only facts acknowledged late, are now increased to three — God is, and the soul is, and, as certain, after death shall be. Put this third to use in life, the time for using fact ! REASON. I do: Find it promises advantage, coupled with the other two. Life to come will be improvement on the life that 's now ; destroy Body's thwartings, there 's no longer screen betwixt soul and soul's joy. Why should we expect new hindrance, novel tether ? In this first Life, I see the good of evil, why our world began at worst : Since time means amelioration, tardily enough displayed," Yet a mainly onward moving, never wholly retrograde. We know more though we know little, we grow stronger though still weak, Partly see though all too purblind, stammer though we cannot speak. There is no such grudge in God as scared the ancient Greek, no fresh Substitute of trap for drag-net, once a breakage in the mesh. Dragons were, and serpents are, and blindworms will be : ne'er emerged Any new-created Python for man's plague since earth was purged. Failing proof, then, of invented trouble to replace the old, LA SAISIAZ 69 O'er this life the next presents advantage much and manifold : Which advantage — in the absence of a fourth and farther fact Now conceivably surmised, of harm to follow from the act — I pronounce for man's obtaining at this moment. Why delay ? Is he happy ? happiness will change : anticipate the day ! Is he sad ? there 's ready refuge : of all sadness death's prompt cure! Is he both, in mingled measure ? cease a burden to endure ! Pains with sorry compensations, pleasures stinted in the dole, Power that sinks and pettiness that soars, all halved and nothing whole, Idle hopes that lure man onward, forced back by as idle fears — What a load he stumbles under through his glad sad seventy years, When a touch sets right the turmoil, lifts his spirit where, flesh- freed, Knowledge shall be rightly named so, all that seems be truth indeed ! Grant his forces no accession, nay, no faculty's increase, Only let what now exists continue, let him prove in peace Power whereof the interrupted unperfected play enticed Man through darkness, which to lighten any spark of hope sufficed, — What shall then deter his dying out of darkness into light ? Death itself perchance, brief pain that 's pang, condensed and infinite ? But at worst, he needs must brave it one day, while, at best, he laughs — Drops a drop within his chalice, sleep not death his science quaffs ! Any moment claims more courage, when, by crossing cold and gloom, Manfully man quits discomfort, makes for the provided room Where the old friends want their fellow, where the new ac- quaintance wait, Probably for talk assembled, possibly to sup in state ! I affirm and reaffirm it therefore : only make as plain As that man now lives, that, after dying, man will live again, — Make as plain the absence, also, of a law to contravene Voluntary passage from this life to that by change of scene, — And I bid him — at suspicion of first cloud athwart his sky, Flower's departure, frost's arrival — never hesitate, but die ! FANCY. Then I double my concession : grant, along with new life sure, This same law found lacking now : ordain that, whether rich 01 poor 70 LA SAISIAZ Present life is judged in aught man counts advantage — be it hope, Be it fear that brightens, blackens most or least his horoscope, — He, by absolute compulsion such as made him live at all, Go on living to the fated end of life whate'er befall. What though, as on earth he darkling grovels, man descry the sphere, Next life's — call it, heaven of freedom, close above and crystal- clear ? He shall find — say, hell to punish who in aught curtails the term, Fain would act the butterfly before he has played out the worm ! God, soul, earth, heaven, hell, — five facts now : what is to de- siderate ? KEASOST. Nothing ! Henceforth man's existence bows to the monition " Wait ! Take the joys and bear the sorrows — neither with extreme con- cern! Living here means nescience simply : 't is next life that helps to learn. Shut those eyes, next life will open, — stop those ears, next life will teach Hearing's office, — close those lips, next life will give the power of speech ! Or, if action more amuse thee than the passive attitude, Bravely bustle through thy being, busy thee for ill or good, Heap this life's success or failure ! Soon shall things be unper- plexed And the right and wrong, now tangled, lie unravelled in the next." FANCY. Not so fast ! -Still more concession ! not alone do I declare Life must needs be borne, — I also will that man become aware Life has worth incalculable, every moment that he spends So much gain or loss for that next life which on this life de- pends. Good, done here, be there rewarded, — evil, worked here, there amerced ! > Six facts now, and all established, plain to man the last as first REASON. There was good and evil, then, defined to man by this decree ? Was — for at its promulgation both alike have ceased to be. LA SAISIAZ 71 Prior to this last announcement, " Certainly as God exists, As He made man's soul, as soul is quenchless by the deathly mists, Yet is, all the same, forbidden premature escape from time To eternity's provided purer air and brighter clime, — Just so certainly depends it on the use to which man turns Earth, the good or evil done there, whether after death he earns Life eternal, — heaven, the phrase be, or eternal death, — say, hell. As his deeds, so proves his portion, doing ill or doing well ! " — Prior to this last announcement, earth was man's probation- place : Liberty of doing evil gave his doing good a grace ; Once lay down the law, with Nature's simple " Such effects suc- ceed Causes such, and heaven or hell depends upon man's eSrthly deed Just as surely as depends the straight or else the crooked line On his making point meet point or with or else without in- cline," — Thenceforth neither good nor evil does man, doing what he must. Lay but down that law as stringent " Wouldst thou live again, be just ! " As this other " Wouldst thou live now, regularly draw thy breath ! For, suspend the operation, straight law's breach results in death" — And (provided always, man, addressed this mode, be sound and sane) Prompt and absolute obedience, never doubt, will law obtain ! Tell not me " Look round us ! nothing each side but acknowl- edged law, Now styled God's — now, Nature's edict ! " Where 's obedience without flaw Paid to either ? What 's the adage rife in man's mouth ? " Why, "The best I both see and praise, the worst I follow " — which, despite pro- fessed Seeing, praising, all the same he follows, since he disbelieves In the heart of him that edict which for truth his head receives. There 's evading and persuading and much making law amends Somehow, there 's the nice distinction 'twixt fast foes and faulty friends, — Any consequence except inevitable death when " Die, Whoso breaks our law ! " they publish, God and Nature equally. 72 LA SAISIAZ Law that 's kept or broken — subject to man's will and pleas- ure ! Whence ? How comes law to bear eluding ? Not because of impotence : Certain laws exist already which to hear means to obey ; Therefore not without a purpose these man must, while those man may Keep and, for the keeping, haply gain approval and reward. Break through this last superstructure, all is empty air — no sward Firm like my first fact to stand on, " God there is, and soul there is," And soul's earthly life-allotment : wherein, by hypothesis, Soul is bound to pass probation, prove its powers, and exercise Sense and thought on fact, and then, from fact educing fit sur- mise, Ask itself, and of itself have solely answer, " Does the scope Earth affords of fact to judge by warrant future fear or hope ? " Thus have we come back full circle : fancy's footsteps one by one Go their round conducting reason to the point where they begun, Left where we were left so lately, Dear and True ! When, half a week Since, we walked and talked and thus I told you, how suffused a cheek You had turned me had I sudden brought the blusb into the smile By some word like " Idly argued ! you know better all the while!" Now, from me — Oh not a blush, but, how much more, a joyous glow, Laugh triumphant, would it strike did your " Yes, better I do know " Break, my warrant for assurance ! which assurance may not be If, supplanting hope, assurance needs must change this life to me. So, I hope — no more than hope, but hope — no less than hope, because I can fathom, by no plumb-line sunk in life's apparent laws, How I may in any instance fix where change should meetly fall Nor involve, by one revisal, abrogation of them all : — Which again involves as utter change in life thus law-re- leased, Whence the good of goodness vanished when the ill of evil ceased. Whereas, life and laws apparent reinstated, — all we know, LA SAISIAZ 73 AH we know not, — o'er our heaven again cloud closes, until, lo — Hope the arrowy, just as constant, comes to pierce its gloom, compelled By a power and by a purpose which, if no one else beheld, I behold in life, so — hope ! Sad summing-up of all to say ! Athanasius contra mundum, why should he hope more than they ? So are men made notwithstanding, such magnetic virtue darts From each head their fancy haloes to their unresisting hearts ! Here I stand, methinks a stone's throw from yon village I this morn Traversed for the sake of looking one last look at its forlorn Tenement's ignoble fortune : through a crevice, plain its floor Piled with provender for cattle, while a dung-heap blocked the door. In that squalid Bossex, under that obscene red roof, arose, Like a fiery flying serpent from its egg, a soul — Rousseau's. Turn thence ! Is it Diodati joins the glimmer of the lake ? There I plucked a leaf, one week sinc.e, — ivy, plucked for By- ron's sake. Famed unfortunates ! And yet, because of that phosphoric fame Swathing blackness' self with brightness till putridity looked flame, All the world was witched : and wherefore ? what could lie be- neath, allure Heart of man to let corruption serve man's head as cynosure ? Was the magic in the dictum " All that 's good is gone and past ; Bad and worse still grows the present, and the worst of all comes last: Which believe — for I believe it" ? So preached one his gospel- news ; While melodious moaned the other, " Dying day with dolphin- hues ! Storm, for loveliness and darkness like a woman's eye ! Ye mounts Where I climb to 'scape my fellow, and thou sea wherein he counts Not one inch of vile dominion ! What were your especial worth Failed ye to enforce the maxim ' Of all objects found on earth Man is meanest, much too honored when compared with — what by odds 74 LA SAISIAZ Beats him — any dog : so, let him go a-howling to his gods ! ' Which believe — for I believe it ! " Such the comfort man re- ceived Sadly since perforce he must : for why ? the famous bard be- lieved ! Fame ! Then, give me fame, a moment ! As I gather at a glance Human glory after glory vivifying yon expanse, Let me grasp them altogether, hold on high and brandish well Beacon-like above the rapt world ready, whether heaven or he'll Send the dazzling summons earthward, to submit itself the same, Take on trust the hope or else despair flashed full on face by — Fame! Thanks, thou pine-tree of Makistos, wide thy giant torch I wave ! Know ye whence I plucked the pillar, late with sky for archi- trave ? This the trunk, the central solid Knowledge, kindled core, began Tugging earth-deeps, trying heaven-heights, rooted yonder at Lausanne. This which flits and spits, the aspic, — sparkles in and out the boughs Now, and now condensed, the python, coiling round and round allows Scarce the bole its due effulgence, dulled by flake on flake of Wit — Laughter so bejewels Learning, — what but Ferney nourished it ? Nay, nor fear — since every resin feeds the flame — that I dis- pense With yon Bossex terebh)th-tree's all-explosive Eloquence : No, be sure ! nor, any more than thy resplendency, Jean-Jacques, Dare I want thine, Diodati ! What though monkeys and macaques Gibber " Byron " ? Byron's ivy rears a branch beyond the crew, Green forever, no deciduous trash macaques and monkeys chew ! As Rousseau, then, eloquent, as Byron prime in poet's power, — Detonations, figurations, smiles — the rainbow, tears — the shower, — Lo, I lift the corruscating marvel — Fame ! and, famed, declare — Learned for the nonce as Gibbon, witty as wit's self Vol- taire . . . O the sorriest of conclusions to whatever man of sense 'Mid the millions stands the unit, takes no flare for evidence ! Yet the millions have their portion, live their calm or troublous day, Find significance in fireworks : so, by help of mine, they may LA SAISIAZ 75 Confidently lay to heart and lock in head their life-long — this : " He there with the brand flamboyant, broad o'er night's forlorn abyss, Crowned by prose and verse ; and wielding, with Wit's bauble, Learning's rod "... Well ? Why, he at least believed in Soul, was very sure of God ! So the poor smile played, that evening : pallid smile long since extinct Here in London's mid-November ! Not so loosely thoughts were linked, Six weeks since as I, descending in the sunset from Saleve, Found the chain, I seemed to forge there, flawless till it reached your grave, — Not so filmy was the texture, but I bore it in my breast Safe thus far. And since I found a something in me would not rest Till I, link by link, unravelled any tangle of the chain, — Here it lies, for much or little ! I have lived all o'er again That last pregnant hour : I saved it, just as I could save a root Disinterred for reinterment when the time best helps to shoot. Life is stocked with germs of torpid life ; but may I never wake Those of mine whose resurrection could not be without earth- quake ! Rest all such, unraised forever ! Be this, sad yet sweet, the sole Memory evoked from slumber ! Least part this : then what the whole ? November 9, 1877. THE TWO POETS OF CROISIC Such a starved bank of moss Till, that May-morn, Blue ran the flash across : Violets were born ! Sky — what a scowl of cloud Till, near and far, Ray on ray split the shroud : Splendid, a star ! World — how it walled about Life with disgrace Till God's own smile came out : That was thy face ! i. " Fame ! " Yes, I said it and you read it. First, Praise the good log-fire ! Winter howls without. Crowd closer, let us ! Ha, the secret nursed Inside yon hollow, crusted roundabout With copper where the clamp was, — how the burst Vindicates flame the stealthy feeder ! Spout Thy splendidest — a minute and no more ? So soon again all sobered as before ? Nay, for I need to see your face ! One stroke Adroitly dealt, and lo, the pomp revealed ! Fire in his pandemonium, heart of oak Palatial, where he wrought the works concealed Beneath the solid-seeming roof I broke, As redly up and out and off they reeled Like disconcerted imps, those thousand sparks From fire's slow tunnelling of vaults and arcs ! 78 THE TWO POETS OF CR0IS1C Up, out, and off, see ! Were you never used, — You now, in childish days or rather nights, — As I was, to watch sparks fly ? not amused By that old nurse-taught game which gave the sprites Each one his title and career, — confused Belief 't was all long over with the flights From earth to heaven of hero, sage, and bard, And bade them once more strive for Fame's award ? New long bright life ! and happy chance befell — That I know — when some prematurely lost Child of disaster bore away the bell From some too-pampered son of fortune, crossed Never before my chimney broke the spell ! Octogenarian Keats gave up the ghost, While — never mind Who was it cumbered earth — Sank stifled, span-long brightness, in the birth. Well, try a variation of the game ! Our log is old ship-timber, broken bulk. There 's sea-brine spirits up the brimstone flame, That crimson-curly spiral proves the hulk Was saturate with — ask the chloride's name From somebody who knows ! I shall not sulk If yonder greenish tonguelet licked from brass Its life, I thought was fed on copperas. Anyhow, there they flutter ! What may be The style and prowess of that purple one ? Who is the hero other eyes shall see Than yours and mine ? That yellow, deep to dun - Conjecture how the sage glows, whom not we But those unborn are to get warmth by ! Son O' the coal, — as Job and Hebrew name a spark, — What bard, in thy red soaring, scares the dark ? Oh and the lesser lights, the dearer still That they elude a vulgar eye, give ours The glimpse repaying astronomic skill Which searched sky deeper, passed those patent powers THE TWO POETS OF CROISIC 79 Constellate proudly, — swords, scrolls, harps, that fill The vulgar eye to surfeit, — found best flowers Hid deepest in the dark, — named unplucked grace Of soul, ungathered beauty, form or face ! vni. Up with thee, mouldering ash men never knew, But I know ! flash thou forth, and figure bold, Calm and columnar as yon flame I view ! Oh and I bid thee, — to whom fortune doled Scantly all other gifts out — bicker blue, Beauty for all to see, zinc's uncontrolled Flake-brilliance ! Not my fault if these were shown, Grandeur and beauty both, to me alone. IX. No ! as the first was boy's play, this proves mere Stripling's amusement : manhood's sport be grave I Choose rather sparkles quenched in mid career, Their boldness and their brightness could not save (In some old night of time on some lone drear Sea-coast, monopolized by crag or cave) — Save from ignoble exit into smoke, Silence, oblivion, all death-damps that choke ! Launched by our ship-wood, float we, once adrift, In fancy to that land-strip waters wash, "We both know well ! Where uncouth tribes made shift Long since to just keep life in, billows dash Nigh over folk who shudder at each lift Of the old tyrant tempest's whirlwind-lash Though they have built the serviceable town Tempests but tease now, billows drench, not drown. XI. Croisic, the spit of sandy rock which juts Spitefully northward, bears nor tree nor shrub To tempt the ocean, show what Gu^rande shuts Behind her, past wild Batz whose Saxons grub The ground for crystals grown where ocean gluts Their promontory's breadth with salt : all stub Of rock and stretch of sand, the land's last strife To rescue a poor remnant for dear life. 80 THE TWO POETS OF CROIS1C XII. And what life ! Here was, from the world to choose, The Druids' chosen chief of homes : they reared — Only their women, — 'mid the slush and ooze Of yon low islet, — to their sun, revered In strange stone guise, — a temple. May-dawn dews Saw the old structure levelled ; when there peered May's earliest eve-star, high and wide once more Up towered the new pile perfect as before : XIII. Seeing that priestesses — and all were such — Unbuilt and then rebuilt it every May, Each alike helping — well, if not too much ! For, 'mid their eagerness to outstrip day And get work done, if any loosed her clutch And let a single stone drop, straight a prey Herself fell, torn to pieces, limb from limb, By sisters in full chorus glad and grim. XIV. And still so much remains of that gray cult, That even now, of nights, do women steal To the sole Menhir standing, and insult The antagonistic church-spire by appeal To power discrowned in vain, since each adult Believes the gruesome thing she clasps may heal Whatever plague no priestly help can cure : Kiss but the cold stone, the event is sure ! Nay, more : on May-morns, that primeval rite Of temple-building, with its punishment For rash precipitation, lingers, spite Of all remonstrance ; vainly are they shent, Those girls who form a ring and, dressed in white, Dance round it, till some sister's strength be spent : Touch but the Menhir, straight the rest turn roughs From gentles, fall on her with fisticuffs. Oh and, for their part, boys from door to door Sing unintelligible words to tunes As obsolete : " scraps of Druidic lore," Sigh scholars, as each pale man importunes THE TWO POETS OF CROISIC 81 "Vainly the mumbling to speak plain once more. Enough of this old worship, rounds and runes ! They serve my purpose, which is but to show Croisic to-day and Croisic long ago. What have we sailed to see, then, wafted there By fancy from the log that ends its days Of much adventure 'neath skies foul or fair, On waters rough or smooth, in this good blaze We two crouch round so closely, bidding care Keep outside with the snow-storm ? Something says " Fit time for story-telling ! " I begin — Why not at Croisic, port we first put in ? Anywhere serves : for point me out the place Wherever man has made himself a home, And there I find the story of our race In little, just at Croisic as at Rome. What matters the degree ? the kind I trace. Druids their temple, Christians have their dome : So with mankind ; and Croisic, I '11 engage, With Rome yields sort for sort, in age for age. xrs. No doubt, men vastly differ : and we need Some strange exceptional benevolence Of nature's sunshine to develop seed So well, in the less-favored clime, that thence We maj' discern how shrub means tree indeed Though dwarfed till scarcely shrub in evidence. Man in the ice-house or the hot-house ranks With beasts or gods : stove-forced, give warmth the thanks! While, is there any ice-checked ? Such shall learn I am thankworthy, who propose to slake His thirst for tasting how it feels to turn Cedar from hyssop-on-the-wall. I wake No memories of what is harsh and stern In ancient Croisic-nature, much less rake The ashes of her last warmth till out leaps Live Henre" Riel, the single spark she keeps. 82 THE TWO POETS OF CR01SIC Take these two, see, each outbreak, — spirt and spirt Of fire from our brave billet's either edge Which call maternal Croisic ocean-girt ! — These two shall thoroughly redeem my pledge. One flames fierce gules, its feebler rival — vert, Heralds would tell you : heroes, I allege, They both were : soldiers, sailors, statesmen, priests, Lawyers, physicians — guess what gods or beasts ! XXII. None of them all, but — poets, if you please ! " What, even there, endowed with knack of rhyme, Did two among the aborigines Of that rough region pass the ungracious time Suiting, to rumble-tumble of the sea's, The songs forbidden a serener clime ? Or had they universal audience — that 's To say, the folk of Croisic, ay, and Batz ? " XXIII. Open your ears ! Each poet in his day Had such a mighty moment of success As pinnacled him straight, in full display, For the whole world to worship — nothing less ! Was not the whole polite world Paris, pray ? And did not Paris, for one moment — yes, Worship these poet-flames, our red and green, One at a time, a century between ? xxrv. And yet you never heard their names ! Assist, Clio, Historic Muse, while I record Great deeds ! Let fact, not fancy, break the mist And bid each sun emerge, in turn play lord Of day, one moment ! Hear the annalist Tell a strange story, true to the least word ! At Croisic, sixteen hundred years and ten Since Christ, forth flamed yon liquid ruby, then. xxv. Know him henceforth as Rene" Gentilhomme — Appropriate appellation ! noble birth And knightly blazon, the device wherefrom Was " Better do than say " ! In Croisic 's dearth THE TWO POETS OF CROISIC 83 Why prison his career while Christendom Lay open to reward acknowledged worth ? He therefore left it at the proper age And got to be the Prince of Condi's page. xxvi. Which Prince of Conde\ whom men called " The Duke," — Failing the king, his cousin, of an heir, (As one might hold would hap, without rebuke, Since Anne of Austria, all the world was 'ware, Twenty-three years long sterile, scarce could look For issue) — failing Louis of so rare A godsend, it was natural the Prince Should hear men call him " Next King " too, nor wince. Now, as this reasonable hope, by growth Of years, nay, tens of years, looked plump almost To bursting, — would the brothers, childless both, Louis and Gaston, give but up the ghost — Condd, called " Duke " and " Next King," nothing loth Awaited his appointment to the post, And wiled away the time, as best he might, Till Providence should settle things aright. XXVIII. So, at a certain pleasure-house, withdrawn From cities where a whisper breeds offence, He sat him down to watch the streak of dawn Testify to first stir of Providence ; And, since dull country life makes courtiers yawn, There wanted not a poet to dispense Song's remedy for spleen-fits all and some, Which poet was Page Rene Gentilhomme. A poet born and bred, his very sire A poet also, author of a piece Printed and published, " Ladies — their attire : Therefore the son, just born at his decease, Was bound to keep alive the sacred fire, And kept it, yielding moderate increase Of songs and sonnets, madrigals, and much Rhyming thought poetry and praised as such. 84 THE TWO POETS OF CROISIC XXX. Rubbish unutterable (bear in mind !) Rubbish not wholly without value, though, Being to compliment the Duke designed And bring the eomplimenter credit so, — Pleasure with profit happily combined. Thus Rene' Gentilhomme rhymed, rhymed till — lo, This happened, as he sat in an alcoVe Elaborating rhyme for " love " — not " dove." He was alone : silence and solitude Befit the votary of the Muse. Around, Nature — not our new picturesque and rude, But trim tree-cinctured stately garden-ground — Breathed polish and politeness. All-imbued "With these, he sat absorbed in one profound Excogitation, " Were it best to hint Or boldly boast ' She loves me — Araminte ' ? " XXXII. "When suddenly flashed lightning, searing sight Almost, so close to eyes ; then, quick on flash, Followed the thunder, splitting earth downright Where Rend sat a-rhyming : with huge crash Of marble into atoms infinite — Marble which, stately, dared the world to dash The stone-thing proud, high-pillared, from its place : One flash, and dust was all that lay at base. So, when the horrible confusion loosed Its wrappage round his senses, and, with breath, Seeing and hearing by degrees induced Conviction what he felt was life, not death — His fluttered faculties came back to roost One after one, as fowls do : ay, beneath, About his very feet there, lay in dust Earthly presumption paid by heaven's disgust. For, what might be the thunder-smitten thing But, pillared high and proud, in marble guise, A ducal crown — which meant " Now Duke : Next, King "? Since such the Prince was, not in his own eyes THE TWO POETS OF CR0IS1C Alone, but all the world's. Pebble from sling Prostrates a giant ; so can pulverize Marble pretension — how much more, make moult A peacock-prince his plume — God's thunderbolt ! That was enough for Rene", that first fact Thus flashed into him. Up he looked : all blue And bright the sky above ; earth firm, compact Eeneath his footing, lay apparent too ; Opposite stood the pillar : nothing lacked There, but the Duke's crown : see, its fragments strew The earth, — about his feet lie atoms fine Where he sat nursing late his fourteenth line ! . xxxvi. So, for the moment, all the universe Being abolished, all 'twixt God and him, — Earth's praise or blame, its blessing or its curse, Of one and the same value, — to the brim Flooded with truth for better or for worse, — He pounces on the writing-paper, prim Keeping its place on table : not a dint Nor speck had damaged " Ode to Araminte." And over the neat crowquill calligraph His pen goes blotting, blurring, as an ox Tramples a flower-bed in a garden, — laugh You may ! — so does not he, whose quick heart knocks Audibly at his breast : an epitaph On earth's break-up, amid the falling rocks, He might be penning in a wild dismay, Caught with his work half-done on Judgment Day. XXXVIII. And what is it so terribly he pens, Ruining " Cupid, Venus, wile and smile, Hearts, darts," and all his day's divinior mens Judged necessary to a perfect style ? little recks Rene", with a breast to cleanse, Of Rhadamanthine law that reigned erewhile : Brimful of truth, truth's outburst will convince (Style or no style) who bears truth's brunt — the Prince. 86 THE TWO POETS OF CR01SIC xxxix. " Conde", called ' Duke,' be called just ' Duke,' not more, To life's end ! ' Next King ' thou forsooth wilt be ? Ay, when this bauble, as it decked before Thy pillar, shall again, for France to see, Take its proud station there ! Let France adore No longer an illusive mock-sun — thee — But keep her homage for Sol's self, about To rise and put pretenders to the rout ! XL. " What ? France so God-abandoned that her root - Regal, though many a Spring it gave no sign, Lacks power to make the bole, now branchless, shoot Greenly as ever ? Nature, though benign, Thwarts ever the ambitious and astute. In store for such is punishment condign : Sure as thy Duke's crown to the earth was hurled, So sure, next year, a Dauphin glads the world ! " XLI. Which penned — some forty lines to this effect — Our Rend folds his paper, marches brave Back to the mansion, luminous, erect, Triumphant, an emancipated slave. There stands the Prince. " How now ? My Duke's-crown wrecked ? What may this mean ? " The answer Rend gave Was — handing him the verses, with the due Incline of body : " Sir, God's word to you ! " The Prince read, paled, was silent ; all around, The courtier-company, to whom he passed The paper, read, in equal silence bound. Rend grew also by degrees aghast At his own fit of courage — palely found Way of retreat from that pale presence : classed Once more among the cony-kind. " Oh, son, It is a feeble folk ! " saith Solomon. Vainly he apprehended evil : since, When, at the year's end, even as foretold, THE TWO POETS OF CROISIC 87 Forth came the Dauphin who discrowned the Prince Of that long-craved mere visionary gold, 'T was no fit time for envy to evince Malice, he sure ! The timidest grew hold : Of all that courtier-company not one But left the semblance for the actual sun. xxrv. And all sorts and conditions that stood by At Renews burning moment, bright escape Of soul, bore witness to the prophecy. Which witness took the customary shape Of verse ; a score of poets in full cry Hailed the inspired one. Nantes and Tours agape, Soon Paris caught the infection ; gaining strength, How could it fail to reach the Court at length ? XLV. " O poet ! " smiled King Louis, " and besides, O prophet ! Sure, by miracle announced, My babe will prove a prodigy. Who chides Henceforth the unchilded monarch shall be trounced For irreligion : since the fool derides Plain miracle by which this prophet pounced Exactly on the moment I should lift Like Simeon, in my arms, a babe, ' God's gift ! ' XL VI. " So call the boy ! and call this bard and seer By a new title ! him I raise to rank Of ' Royal Poet : ' poet without peer ! Whose fellows only have themselves to thank If humbly they must follow in the rear My Rend He 's the master : they must clank Their chains of song, confessed his slaves ; for why ? They poetize, while he can prophesy ! " XLVII. So said, so done ; our Rene" rose august, " The Royal Poet ; "• straightway put in type His poem-prophecy, and (fair and just Procedure) added, — now that time was ripe For proving friends did well his word to trust, — Those attestations, tuned to lyre or pipe, Which friends broke out with when he dared foretell The Dauphin's birth : friends trusted, and did well. THE TWO POETS OF CR01S1C Moreover he got painted by Du Pre", Engraved by Daret also ; and prefixed The portrait to his book : a crown of bay Circled his brows, with rose and myrtle mixed; And Latin verses, lovely in their way, Described him as " the biforked hill betwixt : Since he hath scaled Parnassus at one jump, Joining the Delphic quill and Getic trump." Whereof came . . . What, it lasts, our spirt, thus long — The red fire ? That 's the reason must excuse My letting flicker Rene"s prophet-song No longer ; for its pertinacious hues Must fade before its fellow joins the throng Of sparks departed up the chimney, dues To dark oblivion. At the word, it winks, Rallies, relapses, dwindles, deathward sinks. L. So does our poet. All this burst of fame, Fury of favor, Royal Poetship, Prophetship, book, verse, picture — thereof came — Nothing ! That 's why I would not let outstrip Red his green rival flamelet : just the same Ending in smoke waits both ! In vain we rip The past, no further faintest trace remains Of Rene' to reward our pious pains. LI. Somebody saw a portrait framed and glazed At Croisic. " Who may be this glorified Mortal unheard-of hitherto ? " amazed That person asked the owner by his side, Who proved as ignorant. The question raised Provoked inquiry ; key by key was tried On Croisic's portrait-puzzle, till back flew The wards at one key's touch, which key was — Who? MI. The other famous poet ! Wait thy turn, Thou green, our red's competitor ! Enough Just now to note 't was he that itched to learn (A hundred years ago) how fate could puff THE TWO POETS OF CROISIC Heaven-high (a hundred years before), then spurn To suds so big a bubble in some huff : Since green too found red's portrait, — having heard Hitherto of red's rare self not one word. And he with zeal addressed him to the task Of hunting out, by all and any means, — Who might the brilliant bard be, born to bask Butterfly-like in shine which kings and queens And baby-dauphins shed ? Much need to ask J Is fame so fickle that what perks and preens The eyed wing, one imperial minute, dips Next sudden moment into blind eclipse ? LIV. After a vast expenditure of pains, Our second poet found the prize he sought : Urged in his search by something that restrains From undue triumph famed ones who have fought, Or simply, poetizing, taxed their brains : Something that tells such — dear is triumph bought If it means only basking in the midst Of fame's brief sunshine, as thou, Rene", didst. For, what did searching find at last but this ? Quoth somebody, " I somehow somewhere seem To think I heard one old De Chevaye is Or was possessed of Rent's works ! " which gleam Of light from out the dark proved not amiss To track, by correspondence on the theme ; And soon the twilight broadened into day, For thus to question answered De Chevaye. " True it is, I did once possess the works You want account of — works — to call them so, — ■ Comprised in one small book : the volume lurks (Some fifty leaves in duodecimo) 'Neath certain ashes which my soul it irks Still to remember, because long ago That and my other rare shelf-occupants Perished by burning of my house at Nantes. 90 * THE TWO POETS OF CR01S1C I/VII. " Yet of that book one strange particular Still stays in mind with me " — and thereupon Followed the story. " Few the poems are ; _ The book was two-thirds filled up with this one, And sundry witnesses from near and far That here at least was prophesying done By prophet, so as to preclude all doubt, Before the thing he prophesied about." LVIII. That 's all he knew, and all the poet learned, And all that you and I are like to hear Of Kens' ; since not only book is burned But memory extinguished, — nay, I fear, Portrait is gone too : nowhere I discerned A trace of it at Croisic. " Must a tear Needs fall for that ? " you smile. " How fortune fares "With such a mediocrity, who cares ? " Well, I care — intimately care to have Experience how a human creature felt In after-life, who bore the burden grave Of certainly believing God had dealt For once directly with him : did not rave — A maniac, did not find his reason melt — An idiot, but went on, in peace or strife, The world's way, lived an ordinary life. IX. How many problems that one fact would solve ! An ordinary soul, no more, no less, About whose life earth's common sights revolve, On whom is brought to bear, by thunder-stress, This fact — God tasks him, and will not absolve Task's negligent performer ! Can you guess How such a soul — the task performed to point — Goes back to life nor finds things out of joint ? Does he stand stock-like henceforth ? or proceed Dizzily, yet with course straightforward still, Down-trampling vulgar hindrance ? — as the reed Is crushed beneath its tramp when that blind will THE TWO POETS OF CR0IS1C 91 Hatched in some old-world beast's brain bids it speed Where the sun wants brute-presence to fulfil Life's purpose in a new far zone, ere ice Enwomb the pasture-tract its fortalice. I think no such direct plain truth consists With actual sense and thought and what they take To be the solid walls of life : mere mists — How such would, at that truth's first piercing, break Into the nullity they are ! — slight lists Wherein the puppet-champions wage, for sake Of some mock-mistress, mimic war : laid low At trumpet-blast, there 's shown the world, one foe ! LXIII. No, we must play the pageant out, observe The tourney-regulations, and regard Success — to meet the blunted spear nor swerve, Failure — to break no bones yet fall on sward ; Must prove we have — not courage ? well then — nerve ! And, at the day's end, boast the crown's award — Be warranted as promising to wield Weapons, no sham, in a true battlefield. Meantime, our simulated thunderclaps Which tell u 3 counterfeited truths — these same Are — sound, when music storms the soul, perhaps ? — Sight, beauty, every dart of every aim That touches just, then seems, by strange relapse, To fall effectless from the soul it came As if to fix its own, but simply smote And startled to vague beauty more remote ? So do we gain enough — yet not too much — Acquaintance with that outer element Wherein there 's operation (call it such !) Quite of another kind than we the pent On earth are proper to receive. Our hutch Lights up at the least chink : let roof be rent - How inmates huddle, blinded at first spasm, Cognizant of the sun's self through the chasm ! 92 THE TWO POETS OF CROISIC lxti. Therefore, who knows if this our Rent's quick Subsidence from as sudden noise and glare Into oblivion was impolitic ? No doubt his soul became at once aware That, after prophecy, the rhyming-trick Is poor employment : human praises scare Rather than soothe ears all a-tingle yet With tones few hear and live, but none forget. LXVII. There 's our first famous poet ! Step thou forth Second consummate songster ! See, the tongue Of fire that typifies thee, owns thy worth In yellow, purple mixed its green among, No pure and simple resin from the North, But composite with virtues that belong To Southern culture ! Love not more than hate Helped to a blaze . . . But I anticipate. Lxvm. Prepare to witness a combustion rich And riotously splendid, far beyond Poor Rent's lambent little streamer which Only played candle to a Court grown fond By baby-birth : this soared to such a pitch, Alternately such colors doffed and donned, That when I say it dazzled Paris — please Know that it brought Voltaire upon his knees ! LXIX. Who did it, was a dapper gentleman, Paul Desforges Maillard, Croisickese by birth, Whose birth that century ended which began By similar bestowment on our earth Of the aforesaid Rene\ Cease to scan The ways of Providence ! See Croisic's dearth ■ Not Paris in its plenitude — suffice To furnish France with her best poet twice ! Till he was thirty years of age, the vein Poetic yielded rhyme by drops and spirts : In verses of society had lain His talent chiefly ; but the Muse asserts THE TWO POETS OF CR0IS1C 93 Privilege most by treating with disdain Epics the bard mouths out, or odes he blurts Spasmodically forth. Have people time And patience nowadays for thought in rhyme ? LXXI. So, his achievements were the quatrain's inch Of homage, or at most the sonnet's ell Of admiration : welded lines with clinch Of ending word and word, to every belle In Croisic's bounds ; these, brisk as any finch, He twittered till his fame had reached as well Guerande as Batz ; but there fame stopped, for — curse On fortune — outside lay the universe ! That 's Paris. Well, — why not break bounds, and send Song onward till it echo at the gates Of Paris whither all ambitions tend, And end too, seeing that success there sates The soul which hungers most for fame ? Why spend A minute in deciding, while, by Fate's Decree, there happens to be just the prize Proposed there, suiting souls that poetize ? A prize indeed, the Academy's own self Proposes to what bard shall best indite A piece describing how, through shoal and shelf, The Art of Navigation, steered aright, Has, in our last king's reign, — the lucky elf, — Beached, one may say, Perfection's haven quite, And there cast anchor. At a glance one sees The subject's crowd of capabilities ! lxxiv. Neptune and Amphitrite - ! Thetis, who Is either Tethys or as good — both tag ! Triton can shove along a vessel too : It 's Virgil ! Then the winds that blow or lag, — De Maille, Vend6me, Vermandois ! Toulouse blew Longest, we reckon : he must puff the flag To fullest outflare ; while our lacking nymph Be Anne of Austria, Regent o'er the lymph ! 94 THE TWO POETS OF CROISIC LXXV. Promised, performed ! Since irritdbilis gens Holds of the feverish impotence that strives To stay an itch by prompt resource to pen's Scratching itself on paper ; placid lives, Leisurely works mark the divinior mens : Bees brood above the honey in their hives ; Gnats are the busy bustlers. Splash and scrawl, — Completed lay thy piece, swift penman Paul ! To Paris with the product ! This dispatched, One had to wait the Forty's slow and sure Verdict, as best one might. Our penman scratched Away perforce the itch that knows no cure But daily paper-friction : more than matched His first feat by a second — tribute pure And heartfelt to the Forty when their voice Should peal with one accord " Be Paul our choice ! Scratch, scratch went much laudation of that sane And sound Tribunal, delegates august Of Phoebus and the Muses' sacred train — Whom every poetaster tries to thrust From where, high-throned, they dominate the Seine s Fruitless endeavor, — fail it shall and must ! Whereof in witness have not one and all The Forty voices pealed " Our choice be Paul " ? Lxxvnr. Thus Paul discounted his applause. Alack For human expectation ! Scarcely ink Was dry when, lo, the perfect piece came back Eejected, shamed ! Some other poet's clink " Thetis and Tethys " had seduced the pack Of pedants to declare perfection's pink A singularly poor production. " Whew ! The Forty are stark fools, I always knew ! " LXXIX. First fury over (for Paul's race — to wit, Brain-vibrios — wriggle clear of protoplasm Into minute life that 's one fury-fit), " These fools shall find a bard's enthusiasm THE TWO POETS OF CROISIC 95 Comports with what should counterbalance it — Some knowledge of the world ! No doubt, orgasm Effects the birth of verse which, born, demands Prosaic ministration, swaddling-bands ! LXXX. " Verse must be cared for at this early stage, Handled, nay dandled even. I should play Their game indeed if, till it grew of age, I meekly let these dotards frown away My bantling from the rightful heritage Of smiles and kisses ! Let the public say If it be worthy praises or rebukes, My poem, from these Forty old perukes ! " So, by a friend, who boasts himself in grace With no less than the Chevalier La Iloque, — Eminent in those days for pride of place, Seeing he had it in his power to block The way or smooth the road to all the race Of literators trudging up to knock At Fame's exalted temple-door — for why ? He edited the Paris " Mercury " : — Lxxxn. By this friend's help the Chevalier receives Paul's poem, prefaced by the due appeal To Caesar from the Jews. As duly heaves A sigh the Chevalier, about to deal With case so customary — turns the leaves, Finds nothing there to borrow, beg, or steal — Then brightens up the critic's brow deep-lined. " The thing may be so cleverly declined ! " Lxxxni. Down to desk, out with paper, up with quill, Dip and indite ! " Sir, gratitude immense For this true draught from the Pierian rill ! Our Academic clodpoles must be dense Indeed to stand unirrigated still. No less, we critics dare not give offence To grandees like the Forty: while we mock, We grin and bear. So, here 's your piece ! La Roque." 96 THE TWO POETS OF CR01SIC LXXXIV. " There now ! " cries Paul : " the fellow can't avoid Confessing that my piece deserves the palm ; And yet he dares not grant me space enjoyed By every scribbler he permits embalm His crambo in the Journal's corner ! Cloyed With stuff like theirs, no wonder if a qualm Be caused by verse like mine : though that 's no cause For his defrauding me of just applause. xxxxv. " Aha, he fears the Forty, this poltroon ? First let him fear me / Change smooth speech to rough! I '11 speak my mind out, show the fellow soon Who is the foe to dread : insist enough On my own merits till, as clear as noon, He sees I am no man to take rebuff As patiently as scribblers may and must ! Quick to the onslaught, out sword, cut and thrust ! " LXXXVI. And thereupon a fierce epistle flings Its challenge in the critic's face. Alack ! Our bard mistakes his man ! The gauntlet rings On brazen visor proof against attack. Prompt from his editorial throne up springs The insulted magnate, and his mace falls, thwack, On Paul's devoted brainpan, — quite away From common courtesies of fencing-play ! lxxxvu. " Sir, will you have the truth ? This piece of yours Is simply execrable past belief. I shrank from saying so ; but, since naught cures Conceit but truth, truth 's at your service ! Brief, Just so long as ' The Mercury ' endures, So long are you excluded by its Chief From corner, nay, from cranny ! Play the cock O' the roost, henceforth, at Croisic ! " wrote La Roque. iiXXXVTn. * Paul yellowed, whitened, as his wrath from red Waxed incandescent. Now, this man of rhyme Was merely foolish, faulty in the head Not heart of him : conceit 's a venial crime. THE TWO POETS OF CR0IS1C 97 " Oh by no means malicious ! " cousins said : Fussily feeble, — harmless all the time, Piddling at so-called satire — well-advised, He held in most awe whom he satirized. Accordingly his kith and kin — removed From emulation of the poet's gift By power and will — these rather liked, nay, loved The man who gave his family a lift Out of the Croisic level ; " disapproved Satire so trenchant." Thus our poet sniffed Home-incense, though too churlish to unlock " The Mercury's " box of ointment was La Boque. xc. But when Paul's visage grew from red to white, And from his lips a sort of mumbling fell Of who was to be kicked, — " And serve him right ! " A soft voice interposed, " Did kicking well Answer the purpose ! Only — if I might Suggest as much — a far more potent spell Lies in another kind of treatment. Oh, "Women are ready at resource, you know ! " Talent should minister to genius ! good : The proper and superior smile returns. Hear me with patience ! Have you understood The only method whereby genius earns Fit guerdon nowadays ? In knightly mood You entered lists with visor up ; one learns Too late that, had you mounted Roland's crest, ' Boom ! ' they had roared — La Roque with all the rest ! " Why did you first of all transmit your piece To those same priggish Forty unprepared Whether to rank you with the swans or geese By friendly intervention ? If they dared Count you a cackler, — wonders never cease ! I think it still more wondrous that you bared Your brow (my earlier image) as if praise Were gained by simple fighting nowadays ! 98 THE TWO POETS OF CR01S1C xciii. " Tour next step showed a touch of the true means Whereby desert is crowned : not force but wile Came to the rescue. ' Get behind the scenes ! ' Your friend advised : he writes, sets forth your style And title, to such purpose intervenes That yon get velvet-compliment three-pile ; And, though ' The Mercury ' said ' nay,' nor stock Nor stone did his refusal prove La Roque. xcrv. " Why must you needs revert to the high hand, Imperative procedure — what you call ' Taking on merit your exclusive stand ' ? Stand, With a vengeance ! Soon you went to wall, You and your merit ! Only fools command When folks are free to disobey them, Paul ! You 've learnt your lesson, found out what 's o'clock, By this uncivil answer of La Roque. xcv. " Now let me counsel ! Lay this piece on shelf — Masterpiece though it be ! From out your desk Hand me some lighter sample, verse the elf Cupid inspired you with, no god grotesque Presiding o'er the Navy ! I myself Hand-write what 's legible yet picturesque ; I '11 copy fair and femininely frock Your poem masculine that courts La Roque ! xcvi. " De'idamia he — Achilles thou ! Ha, ha, these ancient stories come so apt ! My sex, my youth, my rank I next avow In a neat prayer for kind perusal. Sapped I see the walls which stand so stoutly now ! I see the toils about the game entrapped By honest cunning ! Chains of lady's-smock, Not thorn and thistle, tether fast La Roque ! " XCTII. Now, who might be the speaker sweet and arch That laughed above Paul's shoulder as it heaved With the indignant heart ? — bade steal a march And not continue charging ? Who conceived THE TWO POETS OF CR01SIC 99 This plan which set our Paul, like pea you parch On fire-shovel, skipping, of a load relieved, From arm-chair moodiness to escritoire Sacred to Phoebus and the tuneful choir ? xcviii. Who but Paul's sister ! named of course like him " Desforges " ; but, mark you, in those days a queer Custom obtained, — who knows whence grew the whim ? — That people could not read their title clear To reverence till their own true names, made dim By daily mouthing, pleased to disappear, Replaced by brand-new bright ones : Arouet, For instance, grew Voltaire ; Desforges — Malcrais. xcix. " Demoiselle Malcrais de la Vigne " — because The family possessed at Brederac A vineyard, — few grapes, many hips-and-haws, — Still a nice Breton name. As breast and back Of this vivacious beauty gleamed through gauze, So did her sprightly nature nowise lack Lustre when draped, the fashionable way, In " Malcrais de la Vigne," — more short, " Malcrais." c. Out from Paul's escritoire behold escape The hoarded treasure ! verse falls thick and fast, Sonnets and songs of every size and shape. The lady ponders on her prize ; at last Selects one which — angel and yet ape ! — Her malice thinks is probably surpassed In badness by no fellow of the flock, Copies it fair, and " Now for my La Roque ! " ci. So, to him goes, with the neat manuscript, The soft petitionary letter. " Grant A fledgeling novice that with wing unclipt She soar her little circuit, habitant Of an old manor ; buried in which crypt, How can the youthful chatelaine but pant For disemprisonment by one ad hoe • Appointed ' Mercury's ' Editor, La Roque ? " 100 THE TWO PO&TS OF CROISIC 'T was an epistle that might i-nove the Turk ! More certainly it moved om- middle-aged Pen-driver drudging at his weai^v work, Baked the old ashes up and disengaged The sparks of gallantry which alwa_y S lurk Somehow in literary breasts, assua ( g e d In no degree by compliments on stylfe ; Are Forty wagging beards worth on^j girl's smile ? cut- in trips the lady's poem, takes its plaj ce Of honor in the gratified Gazette, , With due acknowledgment of power ; an d grace ; Prognostication, too, that higher ^ e t The Breton Muse will soar : fresh # uth, high race, Beauty and wealth have amicahfy me t That Demoiselle Malcrais may fiJJ the chair Left vacant by the loss of Desh&ul&res. civ. / " There ! " cried the lively lady. " Who was right — You in the dumps, or v the merry maid Who know a trick or tw/ can baffle spite Tenfold the force oj this old fool's ? Afraid Of Editor La Ri)€jae ? But come ! next flight JjhaU-Sirtsoar — Deshoulieres alone ? My blade, Sappho herself shall you confess outstript ! Quick, Paul, another dose of manuscript ! " cv. And so, once well a-foot, advanced the game : More and more verses, corresponding gush On gush of praise, till everywhere acclaim Rose to the pitch of uproar. " Sappho ? Tush ! Sure ' Malcrais on her Parrot ' puts to shame Deshoulieres' pastorals, clay not worth a rush Beside this find of treasure, gold in crock, Unearthed in Brittany, — nay, ask La Roque ! " cvi. Such was the Paris tribute. " Yes," you sneer, " Ninnies stock Noodledom, but folk more sage Resist contagious folly, never fear ! " Do they ? Permit me to detach one page THE TWO POETS OF CR01S1C 101 From the huge Album* which from far and near Poetic praises blackened in a rage Of rapture ! and that page shall be — who stares Confounded now, I ask you ? — just Voltaire's ! cvn. Ay, sharpest shrewdest steel that ever stabbed To dea/th Imposture through the armor-joints ! How did it happen that gross Humbug grabbed Thy weapons, gouged thine eyes out ? Fate appoints That prideVshall have a fall, or I had blabbed Hardly that Humbug, whom thy soul aroints, Could thus cSross-buttock thee caught unawares, And dismalest of tumbles proved — Voltaire's .' \ CVIII. See his epistle extant yet, wherewith " Henri " in verlse and " Charles " in prose he sent To do her suit and Service ! Here 's the pith Of half a dozen staiizas — stones which went To build that simulated rnonolith — Sham love in due degree with homage blent As sham — which in the vast .of volumes scares The traveller still : " That stucco-heap — Voltaire's ? " cix. " Oh thou, whose clarion-voice has overflown The wilds to startle Paris that 's one ear*! Thou who such strange capacity hast shown -v For joining all that 's grand with all that 's dear, Knowledge with power to please — Deshoulieres grown Learned as Dacier in thy person ! mere Weak fruit of idle hours, these crabs of mine I dare lay at thy feet, O Muse divine ! ex. " Charles was my task-work only ; Henri trod My hero erst, and now, my heroine — she Shall be thyself ! True — is it true, great God ! Certainly love henceforward must not be ! Yet all the crowd of Fine Arts fail — how odd ! — Tried turn by turn, to fill a void in me ! There 's no replacing love with these, alas ! Yet all I can I do to prove no ass. 102 THE TWO POETS OF CROIS1C " I labor to amuse my freedom ; but' Should any sweet young creature slavery preach, And — borrowing thy vivacious charm, the slut! — Make me, in thy engaging words, a speeoh, Soon should I see myself in prison shut With all imaginable pleasure." Reach The washhand-basin for admirers ! There 's: A stomach-moving tribute — and Voltaire's ]/ cxn. ' Suppose it a fantastic billet-doux, Adulatory flourish, not worth frown ! t What say you to the Fathers of Trevou& ? These in their Dictionary have her/clown Under the heading " Author " : " M^lcrais, too, Is ' Author ' of much verse that.'felaims renown." While Jean-Baptiste Rousseau . ■; . but why proceed ? Enough of this — something t All-agog to have me trespass, clear the fence, be Clive their king ? Higher warrant must you show me ere I set one foot before T' other in that dark direction, though I stand forevermore Poor as Job and meek as Moses. Evermore ? No ! By and by Job grows rich and Moses valiant, Clive turns out less wise than I. 156 DRAMATIC IDYLS Don't object " Why call him friend, then ? " Power is power, my boy, and still Marks a man, — God's gift magnific, exercised for good or ill. You've your boot now on my hearth-rug, tread what was a tiger's skin : Rarely such a royal monster as I lodged the bullet in ! True, he murdered half a village, so his own death came to pass ; Still, for size and beauty, cunning, courage — ah, the brute he was ! Why, that Clive, — that youth, that greenhorn, that quill-driving clerk, in fine, — He sustained a siege in Arcot . . . But the world knows ! Pass the wine. Where did I break off at ? How bring Clive in ? Oh, you mentioned " fear " ! Just so : and, said I, that minds me of a story you shall hear. We were friends then, Clive and I : so, when the clouds, about the orb Late supreme, encroaching slowly, surely, threatened to absorb Ray by ray its noontide brilliance, — friendship might, with steadier eye Drawing near, bear what had burned else, now no blaze all majesty. Too much bee's-wing floats my figure ? Well, suppose a castle 's new : None presume to climb its ramparts, none find foothold sure for shoe 'Twixt those squares and squares of granite plating the imper- vious pile As his scale-mail's warty iron cuirasses a crocodile. Reels that castle thunder-smitten, storm-dismantled ? From without Scrambling up by crack and crevice, every cockney prates about Towers — the heap he kicks now ! turrets — just the measure of his cane ! Will that do ? Observe moreover — (same similitude again) — Such a castle seldom crumbles by sheer stress of cannonade : 'T is when foes are foiled and fighting 's finished that vile rains invade, Grass o'ergrows, o'ergrows till night-birds congregating find no holes Fit to build in like the topmost sockets made for banner-poles. So Clive crumbled slow in London, crashed at last. CLIVE 157 A week before, Dining with him, — after trying churchyard-chat of days of yore, — Both of us stopped, tired as tombstones, head-piece foot-piece, when they lean Each to other, .drowsed in fog-smoke, o'er a coffined Past between. As I saw his head sink heavy, guessed the soul's extinguishment By the glazing eyeball, noticed how the furtive fingers went Where a drug-box skulked behind the honest liquor, — " One more throw Try for Clive ! " thought I : " Let 's venture some good rattling question ! " So — " Come Clive, tell us " — out I blurted — " what to tell in turn, years hence, When my boy — suppose I have one — asks me on what evi- dence I maintain my friend of Plassy proved a warrior every whit Worth your Alexanders, Caesars, Marlboroughs and — what said Pitt ? — Frederick the Fierce himself ! Clive told me once " — I want to say — " Which feat out of all those famous doings bore the bell away — In his own calm estimation, mark you, not the mob's rough Which stood foremost as evincing what Clive called courageous- ness ! Come ! what moment of the minute, what speck-centre in the wide Circle of the action saw your mortal fairly deified ? (Let alone that filthy sleep-stuff, swallow bold this wholesome Port!) If a friend has leave to question, — when were you most brave, in short ? " Up he arched his brows o' the instant — formidably Clive again. " When was I most brave ? I 'd answer, were the instance half as plain As another instance that 's a brain-lodged crystal — curse it J — here Freezing when my memory touches — ugh ! — the time I felt most fear. Ugh ! I cannot say for certain if I showed fear — anyhow, Fear I felt, and, very likely, shuddered, since I shiver now." " Fear ! " smiled I. " Well, that 's the rarer : that 's a speci- men to seek, 158 DRAMATIC IDYLS Ticket up in one's museum, Mind-Freaks, Lord Olive's Fear, Unique I " Down his brows dropped. On the table painfully he pored as though Tracing, in the stains and streaks there, thoughts encrusted long ago. When he spoke 't was like a lawyer reading word by word some will, Some blind jungle of a statement, — beating on and on until Out there leaps fierce life to fight with. " This fell in my factor-days. Desk-drudge, slaving at St. David's, one must game, or drink, or craze. I chose gaming : and, — because your high-flown gamesters hardly take Umbrage at a factor's elbow if the factor pays bis stake, — I was winked at in a circle where the company was choice, Captain This and Major That, men high of color, loud of voice, Yet indulgent, condescending to the modest juvenile Who not merely risked but lost his hard-earned guineas with a smile. " Down I sat to cards, one evening, — had for my antagonist Somebody whose name 's a secret — you '11 know why — so, if you list, Call him Cock o' the Walk, my scarlet son of Mars from head to heel ! Play commenced : and, whether Cocky fancied that a clerk must feel Quite sufficient honor came of bending over one green baize, I the scribe with him the warrior, guessed no penman dared to raise Shadow of objection should the honor stay but playing end More or less abruptly, — whether disinclined he grew to spend Practice strictly scientific on a baoby born to stare At — not ask of — lace-and-ruffles if the hand they hide plays fair, — Anyhow, I marked a movement when he bade me ' Cut ! ' " I rose. ' Such the new manoeuvre, Captain ? I 'm a novice : knowledge grows. What, you force a card, you cheat, Sir ? ' " Never did a thunder-clap Cause emotion, startle Thyrsis locked with Chloe in his lap, As my word and gesture (down I flung my cards to join the pad; ) CLIVE 159 Fired the man of arms, whose visage, simply red before, turned black. When he found his voice, he stammered ' That expression once again' ! ' " ' Well, you forced a card and cheated ! ' " ' Possibly a factor's brain, Busied with his all-important balance of accounts, may deem Weighing words superfluous trouble : cheat to clerkly ears may seem Just the joke for friends to venture : but we are not friends, you see ! When a gentleman is joked with, — if he 's good at repartee, He rejoins, as do I — Sirrah, on your knees, withdraw in full ! Beg my pardon, or be sure a kindly bullet through your skull Lets in light and teaches manners to what brain it finds ! Choose quick — Have your life snuffed out or, kneeling, pray me trim yon can- dle-wick ! ' " ' Well, you cheated ! ' " Then outbroke a howl from all the friends around. To his feet sprang each in fury, fists were clenched and teeth were ground. ' End it ! no time like the present ! Captain, yours were our disgrace ! No delay, begin and finish ! Stand back, leave the pair a space ! Let civilians be instructed : henceforth simply ply the pen, Fly the sword ! This clerk 's no swordsman ? Suit him with a pistol, then ! Even odds ! A dozen paces 'twixt the most and least expert Make a dwarf a giant's equal : nay, the dwarf, if he 's alert, Likelier hits the broader target ! ' " Up we stood accordingly. As they handed me the weapon, such was my soul's thirst to try Then and there conclusions with this bully, tread on and stamp out Every spark of his existence, that, — crept close to, curled about By that toying tempting teasing fool-forefinger's middle joint, — Don't you guess ? — the trigger yielded. Gone my chance ! and at the point Of such prime success moreover : scarce an inch above his head Went my ball to hit the wainscot. He was living, I was dead. 160 DRAMATIC IDYLS " Up he marched in naming triumph — 't was his right, mind ! — up, within Just an arm's length. ' Now, my clerkling,' chuckled Cocky with a grin As the levelled piece quite touched me, ' Now,. Sir Counting- House, repeat That expression which I told you proved bad manners ! Did I cheat?' " ' Cheat you did, you knew you cheated, and, this moment, know as well. As for me, my homely breeding bids you — fire and go to Hell ! ' " Twice the muzzle touched my forehead. Heavy barrel, flur- ried wrist, Either spoils a steady lifting. Thrice : then, ' Laugh at Hell who list, I can't ! God 's no fable either. Did this boy's eye wink once ? No ! There 's no standing him and Hell and God all three against me, — so, I did cheat ! ' " And down he threw the* pistol, out rushed — by the door Possibly, but, as for knowledge if by chimney, roof or floor, He effected disappearance — I '11 engage no glance was sent That way by a single starer, such a blank astonishment Swallowed up their senses : as for speaking — mute they stood as mice. " Mute not long, though ! Such reaction, such a hubbub in a trice ! ' Rogue and rascal ! Who 'd have thought it ? What 's to be expected next, When His Majesty's Commission serves a sharper as pretext For . . . But where 's the need of wasting time now ? Naught requires delay : Punishment the Service cries for : let disgrace be wiped away Publicly, in good broad daylight ! Resignation ? No, indeed ! Drum and fife must play the Rogue's - March, rank and file be free to speed Tardy marching on the rogue's part by appliance in the rear — Kicks administered shall right this wronged civilian, — never fear, Mister Clive, for — though a clerk — you bore yourself — sup pose we say — Just as would beseem a soldier ! ' CLIVE 161 " ' Gentlemen, attention — pray ! First, one word ! ' " I passed each speaker severally in review. When I had precise their number, names and styles, and fully knew Over whom my supervision thenceforth must extend, — why, then — " ' Some five minutes since, my life lay — as you all saw, gen- tlemen — At the mercy of your friend there. Not a single voice was raised In arrest of judgment, not one tongue — before my powder blazed — Ventured " Can it be the youngster blundered, really seemed to mark Some irregular proceeding ? We conjecture in the dark, Guess at random, — still, for sake of fair play — what if for a freak, In a fit of absence, — such things have been ! — if our friend proved weak — What 's the phrase ? — corrected fortune ! Look into the case, at least ! " • Who dared interpose between the altar's victim and the priest ? Yet he spared me ! You eleven ! Whosoever, all or each, To the disadvantage of the man who spared me, utters speech — To his face, behind his back, — that speaker has to do with me : Me who promise, if positions change and mine the chance should be, Not to imitate your friend and waive advantage ! ' " Twenty-five Years ago this matter happened : and 't is certain," added Clive, " Never, to my knowledge, did Sir Cocky have a single breath Breathed against him : lips were closed throughout his life, or since his death, For if he be dead or living I can tell no more than you. All I know is — Cocky had one chance more ; how he used it, — grew Out of such unlucky habits, or relapsed, and back again Brought the late-ejected devil with a score more in his train, — That 's for you to judge. Reprieval T procured, at any rate. Ugh — the memory of that minute's fear makes gooseflesh rise ! Why prate Longer ? You 've my story, there 's your instance : fear I did, you see ! " 162 DRAMATIC IDYLS " Well " — I hardly kept from laughing — " if I see it, thanks must be Wholly to your Lordship's candor. Not that — in a common case — When a bully caught at cheating thrusts a pistol in one's face, I should under-rate, believe me, such a trial to the nerve ! 'T is no joke, at one-and-twenty, for a youth to stand nor swerve. Fear I naturally look for — unless, of all men alive, I am forced to make exception when I come to Robert Clive. Since at Arcot, Plassy, elsewhere, he and death — the whole world knows — Came to somewhat closer quarters." Quarters ? Had we come to blows, Clive and I, you had not wondered — up he sprang so, out he rapped Such a round of oaths — no matter ! I '11 endeavor to adapt To our modern usage words he — well, 't was friendly license — flung At me like so many fire-balls, fast as he could wag his tongue. " You — a soldier ? You — at Plassy ? Yours the faculty to nick Instantaneously occasion when your foe, if lightning-quick, — At his mercy, at his malice, — has you, through some stupid inch Undefended in your bulwark ? Thus laid open, — not to flinch — That needs courage, you '11 concede me. Then, look here ! Suppose the man, Checking his advance, his weapon still extended, not a span Distant from my temple, — curse him ! — quietly had bade me, ' There ! Keep your life, calumniator ! — worthless life I freely spare : Mine you freely would have taken — murdered me and my good fame Both at once — and all the better ! Go, and thank your own bad aim Which permits me to forgive you ! ' What if, with such words as these, He had cast away his weapon ? How should I have borne me, please ? Nay, I '11 spare you pains and tell you. This, and only this, re- mained — Pick his weapon up and use it on myself. I so had gained Sleep the earlier, leaving England probably to pay on still Rent and taxes for half India, tenant at the Frenchman's will.'' MULEYKEH 163 " Such the turn " said I " the matter takes with you ? Then I abate — No, by not one jot nor tittle, — of your act my estimate. Fear — I wish I could detect there : courage fronts me, plain enough — Call it desperation, madness — never mind ! for here 's in rough Why, had mine been such a trial, fear had overcome disgrace. True, disgrace were hard to bear : but such a rush against God's face — None of that for me, Lord Plassy, since I go to church at times, Say the creed my mother taught me ! Many years in foreign climes Rub some marks away — not all, though ! We poor sinners reach life's brink, Overlook what rolls beneath it, recklessly enough, but think There 's advantage in what 's left us — ground to stand on, time to call ' Lord, have mercy ! ' ere we topple over — do not leap, that 's all!" Oh, he made no answer, re-ahsorbed into his cloud. I caught Something like " Yes — courage : only fools will call it fear." If aught Comfort you, my great unhappy hero Clive, in that I heard, Next week, how your own hand dealt you doom, and uttered just the word " Fearfully courageous ! " — this, be sure, and nothing else I groaned. I 'in no Clive, nor parson either : Clive's worst deed — we '11 hope condoned. \ MULEYKEH. If a stranger passed the tent of Hdseyn, he cried " A churl's ! " Or haply " God help the man who has neither salt nor bread ! " — " Nay," would a friend exclaim, " he needs nor pity nor scorn More than who spends small thought on the shore-sand, picking pearls, — Holds but in light esteem the seed-sort, bears instead On his breast a moon-like prize, some orb which of night makes morn. " What if no flocks and herds enrich the son of Sinan ? They went when his tribe was mulct, ten thousand camels the due, 164 DRAMATIC IDYLS Blood-value paid perforce for a murder done of old. ' God gave them, let them go ! But never since time began, Muleykeh, peerless mare, owned master the match of you, And you are my prize, my Pearl : I laugh at men's land and gold ! ' " So in the pride of his soul laughs Hoseyn — and right, I say. Do the ten steeds run a race of glory ? Outstripping all, Ever Muleykeh stands first steed at the victor's staff. Who started, the owner's hope, gets shamed and named, that day. ' Silence,' or, last but one, is ' The Cuffed,' as we use to call Whom the paddock's lord thrusts forth. Right, Hdseyn, I say, to laugh ! " " Boasts he Muleykeh the Pearl ? " the stranger replies : " Be sure On him I waste nor scorn nor pity, but lavish both On Duhl the son of Sheyban, who withers away in heart For envy of Hdseyn's luck. Such sickness admits no cure. A certain poet has sung, and sealed the same with an oath, ' For the vulgar — flocks and herds ! The Pearl is a prize apart.' " Lo, Duhl the son of Sheyban comes riding to Hdseyn's tent, And he casts his saddle down, and enters and " Peace ! " bids he. " You are poor, I know the cause : my plenty shall mend the wrong. 'T is said of your Pearl — the price of a hundred camels spent In her purchase were scarce ill paid : such prudence is far from me Who proffer a thousand. Speak ! Long parley may last too long." Said Hoseyn, " You feed young beasts a many, of famous breed, Slit-eared, unblemished, fat, true offspring of Miizennem : There stumbles no weak-eyed she in the line as it climbs the hill. But I love Muleykeh's face : her forefront whitens indeed Like a yellowish wave's cream-crest. Your camels — go gaze on them ! Her fetlock is foam-splashed too. Myself am the richer still." A year goes by : lo, back to the tent again rides Duhl. " You are open-hearted, ay — moist-handed, a very prince. Why should I speak of sale ? Be the mare your simple gift ! My son is pined to death for her beauty : my wife prompts ' Fool, MULEYKEH 165 Beg for his sake the Pearl ! Be God the re warder, since God pays debts seven for one : who squanders on Him shows thrift.' " Said Hoseyn, " God gives each man one life, like a lamp, then gives That lamp due measure of oil : lamp lighted — hold high, wave wide Its comfort for others to share ! once quench it, what help is left ? The oil of your lamp is your son : I shine while Muleykeh lives. Would I beg your son to cheer my dark if Muleykeh died ? It is life against life : what good avails to the life-bereft ? " Another year, and — hist ! What craft is it Duhl designs ? He alights not at the door of the tent as he did last time, But, creeping behind, he gropes his stealthy way by the trench Half-round till he finds the flap in the folding, for night combines With the robber — and such is he : Duhl, covetous up to crime, Must wring from Hdseyn's grasp the Pearl, by whatever the wrench. " He was hunger-bitten, I heard : I tempted with half my store, And a gibe was all my thanks. Is he generous like Spring dew ? Account the fault to me who chaffered with such an one ! He has killed, to feast chance comers, the creature he rode : nay, more — For a couple of singing-girls his robe has he torn in two : I will beg ! Yet I nowise gained by the tale of my wife and son. " I swear by the Holy House, my head will I never wash Till I filch his Pearl away. Fair dealing I tried, then guile, And now I resort to force. He said we must live or die : Let him die, then, — let me live ! Be bold — but not too rash ! I hatve found me a peeping-place : breast, bury your breathing while I explore for myself ! Now, breathe ! He deceived me not, the spy ! " As he said — there lies in peace H(5seyn — how happy ! Beside Stands tethered the Pearl : thrice winds her headstall about his wrist : 'T is therefore he sleeps so sound — the moon through the roof reveals. And, loose on his left, stands too that other, known far and wide, Buheyseh, her sister born : fleet is she yet ever missed The winning tail's fire-flash a-stream past the thunderous heels. 166 DRAMATIC IDYLS " No less she stands saddled and bridled, this second, in case some thief Should enter and seize and fly with the first, as I mean to do. What then ? The Pearl is the Pearl : once mount her we both escape." Through the skirt-fold in glides Duhl, — so a serpent disturbs no leaf In a bush as he parts the twigs entwining a nest : clean through, He is noiselessly at his work : as he planned, he performs the rape. He has set the tent-door wide, has buckled the girth, has clipped The headstall away from the wrist he leaves thrice bound as before, He springs on the Pearl, is launched on the desert like bolt from bow. Up starts our plundered man : from his breast though the heart be ripped, Yet his mind has the mastery : behold, in a minute more, He is out and off and away on Buheyseh, whose worth we know ! And Hdseyn — his blood turns flame, he has learned long since to ride, And Buheyseh does her part, — they gain — they are gaining fast On the fugitive pair, and Duhl has Ed-Darraj to cross and quit, And to reach the ridge El-Saban, — no safety till that be spied ! And Buheyseh is, bound by bound, but a horse-length off at last, For the Pearl has missed the tap of the heel, the touch of the bit. She shortens her stride, she chafes at her rider the strange and queer : Buheyseh is mad with hope — beat sister she shall and must, Though Duhl, of the hand and heel so clumsy, she has to thank. She is near now, nose by tail — they are neck by croup — joy ! fear ! What folly makes Hdseyn shout " Dog Duhl, Damned son of the Dust, Touch the right ear and press with your foot my Pearl's left flank ! " And Duhl was wise at the word, and Muleykeh as prompt per. ceived Who was urging redoubled pace, and to hear him was to obey, And a leap indeed gave she, and evanished forevermore. And Hdseyn looked one long last look as who, all bereaved, PIETRO OF ABANO 167 Looks, fain to follow the dead so far as the living may : Then he turned Buheyseh's neck sldw homeward, weeping sore. And, lo, in the sunrise, still sat Hoseyn upon the ground Weeping : and neighbors came, the tribesmen of Benu-Asid In the vale of green Er-Rass, and they questioned him of his grief ; And he told from first to last how, serpent-like, Duhl had wound His way to the nest, and how Duhl rode like an ape, so bad ! And how Buheyseh did wonders, yet Pearl remained with the thief. And they jeered him, one and all : " Poor Hoseyn is crazed past hope ! How else had he wrought himself his ruin, in fortune's spite ? To have simply held the tongue were a task for a boy or girl, And here were Muleykeh again, the eyed like an antelope, The child of his heart by day, the wife of his breast by night ! " — " And the beaten in speed ! " wept Hoseyn. " You never have loved my Pearl." PIETRO OF ABANO. Petrus Aponensis — there was a magician ! When that strange adventure happened, which I mean to tell my hearers, Nearly had he tried all trades — beside physician, Architect, astronomer, astrologer, — or worse : How else, as the old books warrant, was he able, All at once, through all the world, to prove the promptest of ap- pearers Where was prince to cure, tower to build as high as Babel, Star to name or sky-sign read, — yet pouch, for pains, a curse ? — Curse : for when a vagrant, — foot-sore, travel-tattered, Now a young man, now an old man, Turk or Arab, Jew or Gypsy, — Proffered folk in passing — O for pay, what mattered ? — " I '11 be doctor, I'll play builder, star I '11 name — sign read ! " Soon as prince was cured, tower built, and fate predicted, " Who may you be ? " came the question ; when he answered " Petrus ipse," " Just as we divined ! " cried folk — "A wretch convicted Long ago of dealing with the devil — you indeed ! " 168 DRAMATIC IDYLS So, they cursed him roundly, all his labor's payment, Motioned him — the convalescent prince would — to vacate the presence : Babylonians plucked his beard and tore his raiment, Drove him from that tower he built : while, had he peered at stars, Town howled "Stone the quack who styles our Dog-star — Sirius!" Country yelled " Aroint the churl who prophesies we take no pleasance Under vine and fig-tree, since the year 's delirious, Bears no crop of any kind, — all through the planet Mars ! " Straightway would the whilom youngster grow a grisard, Or, as case might hap, the hoary eld drop off and show a stripling. Town and country groaned — indebted to a wizard ! " Curse — nay, kick and cuff him — fit requital of his pains ! Gratitude in word or deed were wasted truly ! Rather make the Church amends by crying out on, cramping, crippling One who, on pretence of serving man, serves duly Man's arch foe : not ours, be sure, but Satan's — his the gains ! " Peter grinned. and bore it, such disgraceful usage : Somehow, cuffs and kicks and curses seem ordained his like to suffer : f Prophet's pay with Christians, now as in the Jews' age, Still is — stoning : so, he meekly took his wage and went, — Safe again was found ensconced in those old quarters, Padua's blackest blindest by-street, — none the worse, nay, some- what tougher : " Calculating, " quoth he, " soon I join the martyrs, Since, who magnify my lore on burning me are bent." * Therefore, on a certain evening, to his alley Peter slunk, all bruised and broken, sore in body, sick in spirit, * ' ' Studiando le mie cif re eol compasso, Rilevo ehe sar6 presto sotterra, Perche del mio saper si fa gran chiasso, E gl' ignorant! m' hanno mosso guerra." Said to have teen found in a well at Abano in the last centnry. They were extemporaneously Englished thus : not as Father Prout chose to pre- fer them : Studying my ciphers with the compass, I reckon — I soon shall he below-ground ; Because, of my lore folk make great rumpus, And war on myself makes each dull rogue round. PIETRO OF ABANO 169 Just escaped from Cairo where he launched a galley Needing neither sails nor oars nor help of wind or tide, — Needing but the fume of fire to set aflying Wheels like mad which whirled you quick — North, South, where'er you pleased require it, — That is — would have done so had not priests come prying, Broke his engine up and bastinadoed him beside* * As he reached his lodging, stopped there unmolested, (Neighbors feared him, urchins fled him, few were bold enough to follow) While his fumbling fingers tried the lock and tested Once again the queer key's virtue, oped the sullen door, — Someone plucked his sleeve, cried, " Master, pray your pardon ! Grant a word to me who patient wait you in your archway's hollow ! Hard on you men's hearts are : be not your heart hard on Me who kiss your garment's hem, Lord of magic lore ! " Mage — say I, who no less, scorning tittle-tattle, To the vulgar give no credence when they prate of Peter's magic, Deem his art brews tempest, hurts the crops and cattle, Hinders fowls from laying eggs and worms from spinning silk, Rides upon a he-goat, mounts at need a broomstick : While the price he pays for this (so turns to comic what was tragic) Is — he may not drink — dreads like the Day of Doom's tick — One poor drop of sustenance ordained mere men — that 's milk ! " Tell such tales to Padua ! Think me no such dullard ! Not from these benighted parts did I derive my breath and being ! I am from a land whose cloudless skies are colored Livelier, suns orb largelier, airs seem incense, — while, on earth — What, instead of grass, our fingers and our thumbs cull, Proves true moly ! sounds and sights there help the body's hear- ing, seeing, Till the soul grows godlike : brief, — you front no numskull Shaming by ineptitude the Greece that gave him birth ! " Mark within my eye its iris mystic-lettered — That 's my name ! and note my ear — its swan-shaped cavity, . my emblem ! Mine 's the swan-like nature born to fly unfettered Over land and sea in search of knowledge — food for song. 170 DRAMATIC IDYLS Art denied the vulgar ! Geese grow fat on barley, Swans require ethereal provend, undesirous to resemble 'em — Soar to seek Apollo — favored with a parley Such as, Master, you grant me — who will not hold you long. " Leave to learn to sing — for that your swan petitions : Master, who possess the secret, say not nay to such a suitor ! All I ask is — bless mine, purest of ambitions ! Grant me leave to make my kind wise, free, and happy ! How ? Just by making me — as you are mine — their model ! Geese have goose-thoughts : make a swan their teacher first, then coadjutor, — Let him introduce swan-notions to each noddle, — Geese will soon grow swans, and men become what I am now ! " That 's the only magic — had but fools discernment, Could they probe and pass into the solid through the soft and seeming ! Teach me such true magic — now, and no adjournment ! Teach your art of making fools subserve the man of mind ! Magic is the power we men of mind should practise, Draw fools to become our drudges — docile henceforth, never dreaming — While they do our hests for fancied gain — the fact is What they toil and moil to get proves falsehood : truth 's be- hind! " See now ! you conceive some fabric — say, a mansion Meet for monarch's pride and pleasure : this is truth — a thought has fired you, Made you fain to give some cramped concept expansion, Put your faculty to proof, fulfil your nature's task. First you fascinate the monarch's self : he fancies He it was devised the scheme you execute as he inspired you : He in turn sets slaving insignificances Toiling, moiling till your structure stands there — all you ask ! " Soon the monarch 's known for what he was — a ninny : Soon the rabble-rout leave labor, take their work-day wage and vanish : Soon the late puffed bladder, pricked, shows lank and skinny — ' Who was its inflator ? ' ask we, ' whose the giant lungs ? ' Petri en pulmones 1 What though men prove in grates ? Let them — so they stop at crucifixion — buffet, ban and banish ! Peter's power 's apparent : human praise — its din grates Harsh as blame on ear unused to aught save angels' tongues. PIETRO OF ABANO. 171 " Ay, there have been always, since our world existed, Mages who possessed the secret — needed but to stand still, fix eye_ On the foolish mortal : straight was he enlisted Soldier, scholar, servant, slave — no matter for the style ! Only through illusion ; ever what seemed profit — Love or lucre — justified obedience to the Ipse dixi : Work done — palace reared from pavement up to soffit — Was it strange if builders smelt out cheating all the while ? " Let them pelt and pound, bruise, bray you in a mortar ! What 's the odds to you who seek reward of quite another na- ture ? You 've enrolled your name where sages of your sort are, — Michael of Constantinople, Hans of Halberstadt ! Nay and were you nameless, still you 've your conviction You it was and only you — what signifies the nomenclature ? — Ruled the world in fact, though how you ruled be fiction Fit for fools : true wisdom's magic you — if e'er man — had 't ! " But perhaps you ask me, ' Since each ignoramus While he profits by such magic persecutes the benefactor, What should I expect but — once I render famous You as Michael, Hans, and Peter — just one ingrate more ? If the vulgar prove thus, whatsoe'er the pelf be, Pouched through my beneficence — and doom me dungeoned, chained, or racked, or Fairly burned outright — how grateful will yourself be When, his secret gained, you match your — master just before ? ' " That 's where I await you ! Please, revert a little ! What do folks report about you if not this — which, though chimeric, Still, as figurative, suits you to a tittle — That, — although the elements obey your nod and wink, Fades or flowers the herb you chance to smile or sigh at, While your frown bids earth quake palled by obscuration atmos- pheric, — Brief, although through nature naught resists your fiat, There 's yet one poor substance mocks you — milk you may not drink ! " Figurative language ! Take my explanation ! Fame with fear, and hate with homage, these your art procures in plenty. All 's but daily dry bread : what makes moist the ration ? 172 DRAMATIC IDYLS Love, the milk that sweetens man his meal — alas, you lack : I am he who, since he fears you not, can love you. Love is born of heart not mind, de corde natus haud de mente ; Touch my heart and love 's yours, sure as shines above you Sun by day and star by night though earth should go to wrack ! " Stage by stage you lift me — kiss by kiss I hallow Whose but your dear hand my helper, punctual as at each new impulse I approach my aim ? Shell chipped, the eaglet callow Needs a parent's pinion-push to quit the eyrie's edge : But once fairly launched forth, denizen of ether, While each effort sunward bids the blood more freely through each limb pulse, Sure the parent feels, as gay they soar together, Fully are all pains repaid when love redeems its pledge ! " Then did Peter's tristful visage lighten somewhat, Vent a watery smile as though inveterate mistrust were thawing. " Well, who knows ? " he slow broke silence. " Mortals — come what Come there may — are still the dupes of hope there 's luck in store. Many scholars seek me, promise mounts and marvels : Here stand I to witness how they step 'twixt me and clapper- clawing ! Dry bread, — that I 've gained me : truly I should starve else : But of milk, no drop was mine ! Well, shuffle cards once more ! " At the word of promise thus implied, our stranger — WhaJ; can he but cast his arms, in rapture of embrace, round Peter ? " Hold ! I choke ! " the mage grunts. " Shall I in the manger Any longer play the dog ? Approach, my calf, and feed ! Bene . . . won't you wait for grace ? " But sudden incense Wool-white, serpent-solid, curled up — perfumfi growing sweet and sweeter Till it reached the young man's nose and seemed to win sense Soul and all from out his brain through nostril : yes, indeed ! Presently the young man rubbed his eyes. " Where am I ? Too much bother over books ! Some reverie has proved amus- ing. What did Peter prate of ? 'Faith, my brow is clammy ! How my head throbs, how my heart thumps ! Can it be 1 swooned ? P1ETR0 OF ABANO 173 Oh, I spoke my speech out — cribbed from Plato's tractate, Dosed him with ' the Fair and Good,' swore — Dog of Egypt — I was choosing Plato's way to serve men ! What 's the hour ? Exact eight ! Home now, and to-morrow never mind how Plato mooned ! " Peter has the secret ! Fair and Good are products (So he said) of Foul and Evil : one must bring to pass the other. Just as poisons grow drugs, steal through sundry odd ducts Doctors name, and ultimately issue safe and changed. You 'd abolish poisons, treat disease with dainties Such as suit the sound and sane ? With all such kickshaws vain you pother ! Arsenic 's the stuff puts force into the faint eyes, Opium sets the brain to rights — by cark and care deranged. " What, he 's safe within door ? — would escape — no ques- tion — Thanks, since thanks and more I owe, and mean to pay in time befitting. What most presses now is — after night's digestion, Peter, of thy precepts ! — promptest practice of the same. Let me see ! The wise man, first of all, scorns riches : But to scorn them must obtain them : none believes in his per- mitting Gold to lie ungathered : who picks up, then pitches Gold away — philosophizes : none disputes his claim. " So with worldly honors : 't is by abdicating, Incontestably he proves he could have kept the crown dis- carded. Sulla cuts a figure, leaving off dictating : Simpletons laud private life ? ' The grapes are sour,' laugh we. So, again — but why continue ? All 's tumultuous Here : my head 's a-whirl with knowledge. Speedily shall be rewarded He who taught me ! Greeks prove ingrates ? So insult you us ? When your teaching bears its first-fruits, Peter — wait and see ! " As the word, the deed proved ; ere a brief year's passage, Fop — that fool he made the jokes on — now he made the jokes for, gratis: Hunks — that hoarder, long left lonely in his crass age — Found now one appreciative deferential friend : Powder-paint-and-patch, Hag Jezebel — recovered, Strange to say, the power to please, got courtship till she cried Jam satis ! 174 DRAMATIC IDYLS Fop be-flattered, Hunks be-f riended, Hag be-lovered — Nobody o'erlooked, save God — he soon attained his end. As he lounged at ease one morning in his villa, (Hag 's the dowry) estimated (Hunks' bequest) his coin in coffer, Mused on how a fool's good word (Fop's word) could fill a Social circle with his praise, promote him man of mark, — All at once — " An old friend fain would see your Highness ! " There stood Peter, skeleton and scarecrow, plain writ Phi-loso- pher In the woe-worn face — for yellowness and dryness, Parchment — with a pair of eyes — one hope their feeble spark. " Did I counsel rightly ? Have you, in accordance, Prospered, greatly, dear my pupil? Sure, at just the stage I find you, When your hand may draw me forth from the mad war-dance Savages are leading round your master — down, not dead. Padua wants to burn me : balk them, let me linger Life out — rueful though its remnant — hid in some safe hole behind you ! Prostrate here I lie : quick, help with but a finger Lest I house in safety's self — a tombstone o'er my head ! " Lodging, bite and sup, with — now and then — a copper — Alms for any poorer still, if such there be, — is all my asking. Take me for your bedesman, — nay, if you think proper, Menial merely, — such my perfect passion for repose ! Yes, from out your plenty Peter craves a pittance — Leave to thaw his frozen hands before the fire whereat you 're basking ! Double though your debt were, grant this boon — remittance He proclaims of obligation : 't is himself that owes ! " " Venerated Master — can it be, such treatment Learning meets with, magic fails to guard you from, by all ap- pearance ? Strange ! for, as you entered, — what the famous feat meant, I was full of, — why you reared that fabric, Padua's boast. Nowise for man's pride, man's pleasure, did you slyly Raise it, but man's seat of rule whereby the world should soon have clearance (Happy world) from such a rout as now so vilely Handles you — and hampers me, for which I grieve the most. " Since if it got wind you now were my familiar, How could I protect you — nay, defend myself against the rabble ? P1ETR0 OF ABANO 175 Wait until the mob, now masters, willy-nilly are Servants as they should be : then has gratitude full play ! Surely this experience shows how unbefitting 'T is that minds like mine should rot in ease and plenty. Geese may gabble, Gorge, and keep the ground : but swans are soon for quitting Earthly fare — as fain would I, your swan, if taught the way. "Teach me, then, to rule men, have them at my pleasure ! • Solely for their good, of course, — impart a secret worth re- warding, Since the proper life's-prize ! Tantalus's treasure Aught beside proves, vanishes, and leaves no trace at all. Wait awhile, nor press for payment prematurely ! Over-haste defrauds you. Thanks ! since, — even while I speak, — discarding Sloth and vain delights, I learn how — swiftly, surely — Magic sways the sceptre, wears the crown and wields the ball ! " Gone again — what, is he ? 'Faith, he 's soon disposed of ! Peter's precepts work already, put within my lump their leaven ! Ay, we needs must don glove would we pluck the rose — doff Silken garment would we climb the tree and take its fruit. Why sharp thorn, rough rind ? To keep unviolated Either prize ! We garland us, we mount from earth to feast in heaven, Just because exist what once we estimated Hindrances which, better taught, as helps we now compute. " Foolishly I turned disgusted from my fellows ! Pits of ignorance — to fill, and heaps of prejudice — to level — Multitudes in motley, whites and blacks and yellows — What a hopeless task it seemed to discipline the host ! Now I see my error. Vices act like virtues — Not alone because they guard — sharp thorns — the rose we first dishevel, Not because they scrape, scratch — rough rind — through the dirt-shoes Bare feet cling to bole with, while the half-mooned boot we boast. " No, my aim is nobler, more disinterested ! Man shall keep what seemed to thwart him, since it proves his true assistance, Leads to ascertaining which head is the best head, Would he crown his body, rule its members — lawless else. Ignorant the horse stares, by deficient vision 176 DRAMATIC IDYLS Takes a man to be a monster, lets him mount, then, twice the distance Horse could trot unridden, gallops — dream Elysian ! — Dreaming that his dwarfish guide 's a giant, — jockeys tell 's." Brief, so worked the spell, he promptly had a riddance : Heart and brain no longer felt the pricks which passed for conscience-scruples : Free henceforth his feet, — Per Bacco, how they did dance Merrily through lets and checks that stopped the way before ! Politics the prize now, — such adroit adviser, Opportune suggester, with the tact that triples and quadruples Merit in each measure, — never did the Kaiser Boast as subject such a statesman, friend, and something more ! As he, up and down, one noonday, paced his closet — Council o'er, each spark (his hint) blown flame, by colleagues' breath applauded, Strokes of statecraft hailed with " Salomo si nosset ! " (His the nostrum) — every throw for luck come double-six, — As he, pacing, hugged himself in satisfaction, Thump — the door went. " What, the Kaiser ? By none else were I defrauded Thus of well-earned solace. Since 't is fate's exaction, — Enter, Liege my Lord ! Ha, Peter, you here ? Teneor vix ! " " Ah, Sir, none the less, contain you, nor wax irate ! You so lofty, I so lowly, — vast the space which yawns between us Still, methinks, you — more than ever — at a high rate Needs must prize poor Peter's secret since it lifts you thus. Grant me now the boon whereat before you boggled ! Ten long years your march has moved — one triumph — (though e 's short) — hactenus, While I down and down disastrously have joggled Till I pitch against Death's door, the true Nee Ultra Plus. " Years ago — some ten 't is — since I sought for shelter, Craved in your whole house a closet, out of all your means a comfort. Now you soar above these : as is gold to spelter So is power — you urged with reason — paramount to wealth. Power you boast in plenty : let it grant me refuge ! House-room now is out of question : find for me some stronghold — some fort — Privacy wherein, immured, shall this blind deaf huge Monster of a mob let stay the soul I 'd save by stealth .' PIETRO OF ABANO 177 " Ay, for all too much with magic have I tampered ! — Lost the world, and gained, I fear, a certain place I 'm to describe loth ! Still, if prayer and fasting tame the pride long pampered, Mercy may be mine : amendment never comes too late. How can I amend beset by cursers, kickers ? Pluck this brand from out the burning ! Once away, I take my Bible-oath, Never more — so long as life's weak lamp-flame flickers — No, not once I '11 tease you, but in silence bear my fate ! " " Gently, good my Genius, Oracle unerring ! Strange now ! can you guess on what — as in you peeped — it was I pondered ? You and I are both of one mind in preferring Power to wealth, but — here 's the point — what sort of power, I ask? Ruling men is vulgar, easy, and ignoble : Rid yourself of conscience, quick you have at beck and call the fond herd. But who wields the crozier, down may fling the crow-bill : That 's the power I covet now ; soul's sway o'er souls — my task ! ■ " ' Well but,' you object, ' you have it, who by glamour Dress up lies to look like truths, mask folly in the garb of reason : Your soul acts on theirs, sure, when the people clamor, Hold their peace, now fight now fondle, — earwigged through the brains.' Possibly ! but still the operation 's mundane, Grosser than a taste demands which — craving manna — kecks at peason — Power o'er men by wants material : why should one deign Rule by sordid hopes and fears — a grunt for all one's pains ? " No, if men must praise me, let them praise to purpose ! Would we move the world, not earth but heaven must be our fulcrum — pou sto ! Thus I seek to move it : Master, why interpose — Balk my climbing close on what 's the ladder's topmost round ? Statecraft 't is I Jfcep from : when by priestcraft hoisted Up to where my foot may touch the highest rung which fate allows toe, Then indeed ask favor '. On you shall be foisted No excuse : I '11 pay my debt, each penny of the pound ! 178 DRAMATIC IDYLS " Ho, my knaves without there ! Lead this worthy downstairs \ No farewell, good Paul — nay, Peter — what 's your name re- membered rightly ? Come, he 's humble : out another would have flounced — airs Suitors often give themselves when our sort bow them forth. Did I touch his rags ? He surely kept his distance : Yet, there somehow passed to me from him — where'er the virtue might lie — Something that inspires my soul — Oh, by assistance Doubtlessly of Peter ! — still, he 's worth just what he 's worth ! ""Pis my own soul soars now: soaring — how? By crawling ! I '11 to Rome, before Rome's feet the temporal-supreme lay prostrate ! ' Hands ' (I '11 say) ' proficient once in pulling, hauling This and that way men as I was minded — feet now clasp ! ' Ay, the Kaiser's self has wrung them in his fervor ! Now — they only sue to slave for Rome, nor at one doit the cost rate. Rome's adopted child — no bone, no muscle, nerve or Sinew of me but I '11 strain, though out my life I gasp ! " As he stood one evening proudly — (he had traversed Rome on horseback — peerless pageant ! — claimed the Lateran as new Pope) — Thinking " All 's attained now ! Pontiff ! "Who could have erst Dreamed of my advance so far when, some ten years ago, I embraced devotion, grew from priest to bishop, Gained the Purple, bribed the Conclave, got the Two-thirds, saw my coop ope, Came out — what Rome hails me ! O were there a wish-shop, Not one wish more would I purchase — lord of all below ! " Ha — who dares intrude now — puts aside the arras ? What, old Peter, here again, at such a time, in such a presence ? Satan sends this plague back merely to embarrass Me who enter on my office — little needing you ! 'Faith, I 'm touched myself by age, but you look Tithon ! Were it vain to seek of you the sole prize left — rejuvenescence ? Well, since flesh is grass which Time must lay his scythe on, Say your say and so depart and make no more ado ! " Peter faltered — coughing first by way of prologue — " Holiness, your help comes late : a death at ninety little matters. Padua, build poor Peter's pyre now, on log roll log, Burn away — I 've lived my day ! Yet here 's the sting in death — PIETRO OF ABANO 179 I 've an author's pride : I want my Book's survival : See, I 've hid it in my breast to warm me 'mid the rags and tat- ters ! Save it — tell next age your Master had no rival ! Scholar's debt discharged in full, be ' Thanks ' my latest breath ! " " Faugh, the frowsy bundle — scribblings harum-scarum Scattered o'er a dozen sheepskins ! What 's the name of this farrago ? Ha — ' Conciliator Differentiarum ' — Man and book may burn together, cause the world no loss ! Stop — what else ? A tractate — eh, ' De Speciebus Ceremonialis Mw-gi-m ? ' I dream sure ! Hence, away, go, Wizard, — quick avoid me ! Vain you clasp my knee, buss Hand that bears the Fisher's ring or foot that boasts the Cross ! " Help ! The old magician clings like an octopus ! Ah, you rise now — fuming, fretting, frowning, if I read your features ! Frown, who cares ? We 're Pope — once Pope, you can't un- pope us ! Good — you muster up a smile : that 's better ! Still so brisk ? All at once grown youthful ? But the case is plain ! Ass — Here I dally with the fiend, yet know the Word — compels all creatures Earthly, heavenly, hellish. Apage, Sathanas Dicam verbum Salomonis — " " — dicite ! " When — whisk ! — What was changed ? The stranger gave his eyes a rubbing : There smiled Peter's face turned back a moment at him o'er the shoulder, As the black-door shut, bang ! " So he 'scapes a drubbing ! " (Quoth a boy who, unespied, had stopped to hear the talk.) " That 's the way to thank these wizards when they bid men Benedieite ! What ails you ? You, a man, and yet no bolder ? Foreign Sir, you look but foolish! " " Idmen, idmen! " Groaned the Greek. " O Peter, cheese at last I know from chalk ! " Peter lived his life out, menaced yet no martyr, Knew himself &e mighty man'he was — such knowledge all his guerdon, Left the world a big book — people but in part err When they style a true Scientice Corn^pen-di-um : " Admirationem incutit " they sourly Smile, as fast they shut the folio which myself was somehow spurred on 180 DRAMATIC IDYLS Once to ope : but love — life's milk which daily, hourly, Blockheads lap — O Peter, still thy taste of love 's to come ! Greek, was your ambition likewise doomed to failure ? True, I find no record you wore purple, walked with axe and fasces, Played some antipope's part : still, friend, don't turn tail, you 're Certain, with but these two gifts, to gain earth's prize in time ! Cleverness uncurbed by conscience — if you ransacked Peter's book you 'd find no potent spell like these to rule the masses ; Nor should want example, had I not to transact Other business. Go your ways, you '11 thrive ! So ends my rhyme. When these parts Tiberius — not yet Csesar — travelled, Passing Padua, he consulted Padua's Oracle of Geryon (God three-headed, thrice wise) just to get unravelled Certain tangles of his future. " Fling at Abano Golden dice," it answered : '' drcpt within the fount there, Note what sum the pips present ! " And still we see each die, the very one, Turn up, through the crystal, — read the whole account there "Where 't is told by Suetonius, — each its highest throw. Scarce the sportive fancy-dice I fling show " Venus : " Still — for love of that dear land which I so oft in dreams re- visit — I have — oh, not sung ! but lilted (as — between us — Grows my lazy custom) this its legend. What the lilt ? ms^^*. t=t i DOCTOR 181 DOCTOR A Rabbi told me : On the day allowed Satan for carping at God's rule, he came, Fresh from our earth, to brave the angel-crowd. " What is the fault now ? " " This I find to blame : Many and various are the tongues below, Yet all agree in one speech, all proclaim " ' Hell has no might to match what earth can show : Death is the strongest-born of Hell, and yet Stronger than Death is a Bad Wife, we know.' " Is it a wonder if I fume and fret — Robbed of my rights, since Death am I, and mine The style of Strongest ? Men pay Nature's debt " Because they must at my demand ; decline To pay it henceforth surely men will please, Provided husbands with bad wives combine " To baffle Death. Judge between me and these ! " " Thyself shalt judge. Descend to earth in shape Of mortal, marry, drain from froth to lees " The bitter draught, then see if thou escape Concluding, with men sorrowful and sage, A Bad Wife's strength Death's self in vain would ape ! How Satan entered oq his pilgrimage, Conformed himself to earthly ordinance, Wived and played husband well from youth to age Intrepidly — I leave untold, advance Through many a married year until I reach A day when — of his father's countenance The very image, like him too in speech As well as thought and deed, — the union's fruit Attained maturity. " I needs must teach " My son a trade : but trade, such son to suit, Needs seeking after. He a man of war ? Too cowardly ! A lawyer wins repute — 182 DRAMATIC IDYLS " Having to toil and moil, though — both which are Beyond this sluggard. There 's Divinity : No, that 's my own bread-winner — that be far " From my poor offspring ! Physic ? Ha, we '11 try If this be practicable. Where 's my wit ? Asleep ? — since, now I come to think . . . Ay, ay ! " Hither, my son ! Exactly have I hit On a profession for thee. Medicus — Behold, thou art appointed ! Yea, I spit " Upon thine eyes, bestow a virtue thus That henceforth not this human form I wear Shalt thou perceive alone, but — one of us " By privilege — thy fleshly sight shall bear Me in my spirit-person as I walk The world and take my prey appointed there. " Doctor once dubbed — what ignorance shall balk Thy march triumphant ? Diagnose the gout As colic, and prescribe it cheese for chalk — " No matter ! All 's one : cure shall come about And win thee wealth — fees paid with such a roar Of thanks and praise alike from lord and lout " As never stunned man's ears on earth before. ' How may this be ? ' Why, that 's my sceptic ! Soon Truth will corrupt thee, soon thou doubt' st no more ! " Why is it I bestow on thee the boon Of recognizing me the while I go Invisibly among men, morning, noon, " And night, from house to house, and — quick or slow — Take my appointed prey ? They summon thee For help, suppose : obey the summons ! so ! " Enter, look round ! Where 's Death ? Know — I am he, Satan who work all evil : I who bring Pain to the patient in whate'er degree. " I, then, am there : first glance thine eye shall fling Will find me — whether distant or at hand, As I am free to do my spiriting DOCTOR 183 " At such mere first glance thou shalt understand Wherefore I reach no higher up the room Than door or window, when my form is scanned. " Howe'er friends' faces please to gather gloom, Bent o'er the sick, — howe'er himself desponds, — In such case Death is not the sufferer's doom. " Contrariwise, do friends rejoice my bonds Are broken, does the captive in his turn Crow ' Life shall conquer ' ? Nip these foolish fronds " Of hope a-sprout, if haply thou discern Me at the head — my victim's head, be sure ! Forth now ! This taught thee, little else to learn ! " And forth he went. Folk heard him ask demure, " How do you style this ailment ? (There he peeps, My father, through the arras !) Sirs, the cure " Is plain as A B C ! Experience steeps Blossoms of pennyroyal half an hour In sherris. Sumat I — Lo, how sound he sleeps — " The subject you presumed was past the power Of Galen to relieve ! " Or else, " How 's this ? "Why call for help so tardily ? Clouds lour " Portentously indeed, Sits ! (Naught 's amiss : He 's at the bed-foot merely.) Still, the storm May pass averted — not by quacks, I wis, " Like you, my masters ! You, forsooth, perform A miracle ? Stand, sciolists, aside ! Blood, ne'er so cold, at ignorance grows warm ! " Which boasting by result was justified, Big as might words be : whether drugged or left Drugless, the patient always Hved, not died. Great the heir's gratitude, so nigh bereft Of all he prized in this world : sweet the smile Of disconcerted rivals : " Cure ? — say, theft " From Nature in despite of Art — so style This off-hand kill-or-cure work ! You did much, I had done more : folk cannot wait awhile ! " 184 DRAMATIC IDYLS But did the case change ? was it — " Scarcely such The symptoms as to warrant our recourse To your skill, Doctor ! Yet since just a touch " Of pulse, a taste of breath, has all the force With you of long investigation claimed By others, — tracks an ailment to its source " Intuitively, — may we ask unblamed What from this pimple you prognosticate ? " " Death ! " was the answer, as he saw and named The coucher by the sick man's head. " Too late You send for my assistance. I am bold Only by Nature's leave, and bow to Fate ! " Besides, you have my rivals : lavish gold ! How comfortably quick shall life depart Cosseted by attentions manifold ! " One day, one hour ago, perchance my art Had done some service. Since you have yourselves Chosen — before the horse — to put the cart, " Why, Sirs, the sooner that the sexton delves Your patient's grave the better ! How you stare — Shallow, for all the deep books on your shelves ! " Fare you well, fumblers ! " Do I need declare What name and fame, what riches recompensed The Doctor's practice ? Never anywhere Such an adept as daily evidenced Each new vaticination ! Oh, not he Like dolts who dallied with their scruples, fenced With subterfuge, nor gave out frank and free Something decisive ! If he said " I save The patient," saved he was : if " Death will be u His portion," you might count him dead. Thus brave, Behold our worthy, sans competitor Throughout the country, on the architrave Of Glory's temple golden-lettered for Machaon redivivus / So, it fell That, of a sudden, when the Emperor DOCTOR 185 Was smit by sore disease, I need not tell , If any other Doctor's aid was sought To come and forthwith make the sick Prince well. " He will reward thee as a monarch ought. Not much imports the malady ; but then, He clings to life and cries like one distraught " For thee — who, from a simple citizen, May'st look to rise in rank, — nay, haply wear A medal with his portrait, — always when " Recovery is quite accomplished. There ! Pass to the presence ! " Hardly has he crossed The chamber's threshold when he halts, aware Of who stands sentry by the head. All 's lost. " Sire, naught avails my art : you near the goal, And end the race by giving up the ghost." " How ? " cried the monarch : " Names upon your roll Of half my subjects rescued by your skill — Old and young, rich and poor — crowd cheek by jowl " And yet no room for mine ? Be saved I will ! Why else am I earth's foremost potentate ? Add me to these and take as fee your fill " Of gold — that point admits of no debate Between us : save me, as you can and must, — Gold, till your gown's pouch cracks beneath the weight ! " This touched the Doctor. " Truly a home-thrust, Parent, you will not parry ! Have I dared Entreat that you forego the meal of dust " — Man that is snake's meat — when I saw prepared Your daily portion ? Never ! Just this once, Go from his head, then, — let his life be spared ! " Whisper met whisper in the gruff response : " Fool, I must have my prey : no inch I budge From where thou see'st me thus myself ensconce." " Ah," moaned the sufferer, " by thy look I judge Wealth fails to tempt thee : what if honors prove More efficacious ? Naught to him I grudge 186 DRAMATIC IDYLS . " Who saves me. Only keep my head above The cloud that 's creeping round it — I '11 divide My empire with thee ! No ? What 's left but — love ? " Does love allure thee ? Well then, take as bride My only daughter, fair beyond belief ! Save me — to-morrow shall the knot be tied ! " " F'ather, you hear him ! Respite ne'er so brief Is ah I beg : go now and come again Next day, for aught I care : respect the grief " Mine will be if thy first-born sues in vain ! " " Fool, I must have my prey ! " was all he got In answer. But a fancy crossed his brain. " I have it ! Sire, methinks a meteor shot Just now across the heavens and neutralized Jove's salutary influence : 'neath the blot " Plumb are you placed now : well that I surmised The cause of failure ! Knaves, reverse the bed ! " " Stay ! " groaned the monarch, " I shall be capsized — " Jolt — jolt — my heels uplift where late my head Was lying — sure I 'm turned right round at last ! What do you say now, Doctor? " Naught he said, For why ? With one brisk leap the Antic passed From couch-foot back to pillow, — as before, Lord of the situation. Long aghast The Doctor gazed, then " Yet one trial more Is left me " inwardly he uttered. " Shame Upon thy flinty heart ! Do I implore " This trifling favor in the idle name Of mercy to the moribund ? I plead The cause of all thou dost affect : my aim " Befits my author ! Why would I succeed ? Simply that by success I may promote The growth of thy pet virtues — pride and greed. " But keep thy favors ! — curse thee ! I devote Henceforth my service to the other side. No time to lose : the rattle 's in his throat. DOCTOR 187 " So, — not to leave one last resource untried, — Run to my house with, all haste, somebody ! Bring me that knobstick thence, so often plied " With profit by the astrologer — shall I Disdain its help, the mystic Jacob's-StafE ? Sire, do but have the courage not to die " Till this arrive ! Let none of you dare laugh ! Though rugged its exterior, I have seen That implement work wonders, send the chaff " Quick and thick flying from the wheat — I mean, By metaphor, a human sheaf it threshed Flail-like. Go fetch it ! Or — a word between " Just you and me, friend ! — go bid, unabashed, My mother, whom you '11 find there, bring the stick Herself — herself, mind ! " Out the lackey dashed Zealous upon the errand. Craft and trick Are meat and drink to Satan : and he grinned — How else ? — at an excuse so politic For failure : scarce would Jacob's-StafE rescind Fate's firm decree ! And ever as he neared The agonizing one, his breath like wind Froze to the marrow, while his eyeflash seared Sense in the brain up : closelier and more close Pressing his prey, when at the door appeared — Who but his Wife the Bad ? Whereof one dose, One grain, one mite of the medicament, Sufficed him. Up he sprang. One word, too gross To soil my lips with, — and through ceiling went Somehow the Husband. " That a storm 's dispersed We know for certain by the sulphury scent ! " Hail to the Doctor ! Who but one so versed In all Dame Nature's secrets had prescribed The staff thus opportunely ? Style him first " And foremost of physicians ! " "I 've imbibed Elixir surely," smiled the prince, — " have gained New lease of life. Dear Doctor, how you bribed 188 DRAMATIC IDYLS " Death to forego me, boots not : you 've obtained My daughter and her dowry. Death, 1 've heard, Was still on earth the strongest power that reigned, " Except a Bad Wife ! " Whereunto demurred Nowise the Doctor, so refused the fee — No dowry, no bad wife ! " You think absurd This tale ? " — the Rabbi added : " True, our Talmud Boasts sundry such : yet — have our elders erred In thinking there 's some water there, not all mud ? " I tell it, as the Babbi told it me. PAN AND LUNA. Si credere dignum est. — Georgic. III. 390. O wobthy of belief I hold it was, Virgil, your legend in those strange three lines ! No question, that adventure came to pass One black night in Arcadia : yes, the pines, Mountains and valleys mingling made one mass Of black with void black heaven : the earth's confines. The sky's embrace, — below, above, around, All hardened into black without a bound. Fill up a swart stone chalice to the brim With fresh-squeezed yet fast-thickening poppy-juice : See how the sluggish jelly, late a-swim, Turns marble to the touch of who would loose The solid smooth, grown jet from rim to rim, By turning round the bowl ! So night can fuse Earth with her all-comprising sky. No less, Light, the least spark, shows air and emptiness. And thus it proved when — diving into space, Stript of all vapor, from each web of mist Utterly film-free — entered on her race The naked Moon, full-orbed antagonist Of night and dark, night's dowry : peak to base, Upstarted mountains, and each valley, kissed To sudden life, lay silver-bright : in air Flew she revealed, Maid-Moon with limbs all bare. PAN AND LUNA 189 Still as she fled, each depth — where refuge seemed — Opening a lone pale chamber, left distinct Those limbs : 'mid still-retreating blue, she teemed Herself with whiteness, — virginal, uncinct By any halo save what finely gleamed To outline not disguise her : heaven was linked In one accord with earth to quaff the joy, Drain beauty to the dregs without alloy. Whereof she grew aware. What help ? When, lo, A succorable cloud with sleep lay dense : Some pinetree-top had caught it sailing slow, And tethered for a prize : in evidence Captive lay fleece on fleece of piled-up snow Drowsily patient : flake-heaped how or whence, The structure of that succorable cloud, What matter ? Shamed she plunged into its shroud. Orbed — so the woman-figure poets call Because of rounds on rounds — that apple-shaped Head which its hair binds close into a ball Each side the curving ears — that pure undraped Pout of the sister paps — that . . . Once for all, Say — her consummate circle thus escaped With its innumerous circlets, sank absorbed, Safe in the cloud — naked Moon full-orbed ! But what means this ? The downy swathes combine, Conglobe, the smothery coy-caressing stuff Curdles about her ! Vain each twist and twine Those lithe limbs try, encroached on by a fluff Fitting as close as fits the dented spine Its flexile ivory outside-flesh : enough ! The plumy drifts contract, condense, constringe, Till she is swallowed by the feathery springe. As when a pearl slips lost in the thin foam Churned on a sea-shore, and, o'er-frothed, conceits Herself safe-housed in Amphitrite's dome, — If, through the bladdery wave-worked yeast, she meets What most she loathes and leaps from, — elf from gnome No gladlier, — finds that safest of retreats Bubble about a treacherous hand wide ope To grasp her — (divers who pick pearls so grope) — So lay this Maid-Moon clasped around and caught By rough red Pan, the god of all that tract : 190 DRAMATIC IDYLS He it was schemed the snare thus subtly wrought With simulated earth-breath, — wool-tufts packed Into a billowy wrappage. Sheep far-sought For spotless shearings yield such : take the fact As learned Virgil gives it, — how the breed Whitens itself forever : yes, indeed ! If one forefather ram, though pure as chalk From tinge on fleece, should still display a tongue Black 'neath the beast's moist palate, prompt men balk The propagating plague : he gets no young : They rather slay him, — sell his hide to calk Ships with, first steeped in pitch, — nor hands are wrung In sorrow for his fate : protected thus, The purity we love is gained for us. So did Girl-Moon, by just her attribute Of unmatched modesty betrayed, lie trapped, Bruised to the breast of Pan, half god half brute, Raked by his bristly boar-sward while he lapped — Never say, kissed her ! that were to pollute Love's language — which moreover proves unapt To tell how she recoiled — as who finds thorns Where she sought flowers — when, feeling, she touched — ■ horns! Then — does the legend say ? — first moon-eclipse Happened, first swooning-fit which puzzled sore The early sages ? Is that why she dips Into the dark, a minute and no more, Only so long as serves her while she rips The cloud's womb through and, faultless as before, Pursues her way ? No lesson for a maid Left she, a maid, herself thus trapped, betrayed ? Ha, Virgil ? Tell the rest, you ! " To the deep Of his domain the wildwood, Pan forthwith Called her, and so she followed " — in her sleep, Surely ? — "by no means spurning him." The myth Explain who may ! Let all else go, I keep — As of a ruin just a monolith — Thus much, one verse of five words, each a boon : Arcadia, night, a cloud, Pan, and the moon. TOUCH HIM NE'ER SO LIGHTLY 191 •' Touch him ne'er so lightly, into song he broke : Soil so quick-receptive, — not one feather-seed, Not one flower-dust fell but straight its fall awoke Vitalizing virtue : song would song succeed Sudden as spontaneous — prove a poet-soul ! " Indeed? Bock 's the song-soil rather, surface hard and bare : Sun and dew their mildness, storm and frost their rage Vainly both expend, — few flowers awaken there : Quiet in its cleft broods — what the after-age Knows and names a pine, a nation's heritage. JOCOSERIA WANTING IS — WHAT? Waoting is — what ? Summer redundant, Blueness abundant, — Where is the blot ? Beamy the world, yet a blank all the same, — Framework which waits for a picture to frame : What of the leafage, what of the flower ? Roses embowering with naught they embower ! Come then, complete incompletion, O comer, Pant through the blueness, perfect the summer ! Breathe but one breath Rose-beauty above, And all that was death Grows life, grows love, Grows love ! DONALD. ' Will you hear my story also, — Huge Sport, brave adventure in plenty ? ' The boys were a band from Oxford, The oldest of whom was twenty. The bothy we held carouse in Was bright with fire and candle ; Tale followed tale like a merry-go-round Whereof Sport turned the handle. In our eyes and noses — turf-smoke : In our ears a tune from the trivet, Whence " Boiling, boiling," the kettle sang, " And ready for ft^sh Glenlivet." 194 JOCOSERTA So, feat capped feat, with a vengeance : Truths, though, — the lads were loyal : " Grouse, five-score brace to the bag ! Deer, ten hours' stalk of the Royal ! " Of boasting, not one bit, boys ! Only there seemed to settle Somehow above your curly heads, — Plain through the singing kettle, Palpable through the cloud, As each new-puffed Havana Rewarded the teller's well-told tale, — This vaunt " To Sport — Hosanna ! " Hunt, fish, shoot, "Would a man fulfil life's duty ! Not to the bodily frame alone Does Sport give strength and beauty, " But character gains in — courage ? Ay, Sir, and much beside it ! You don't sport, more 's the pity : You soon would find, if you tried it, " Good sportsman means good fellow, Sound-hearted he, to the centre ; Your mealy-mouthed mild milksops — There 's where the rot can enter ! " There 's where the dirt will breed, The shabbiness Sport would banish ! Oh no, Sir, no ! In your honored case All such objections vanish. " 'T is known how hard you studied : A Double-First- — what, the jigger ! Give me but half your Latin and Greek, I '11 never again touch trigger ! " Still, tastes are tastes, allow me ! Allow, too, where there 's keenness For Sport, there 's little likelihood Of a man's displaying meanness ! " So, put on my mettle, I interposed. " Will you hear my story ? " quoth I. DONALD 195 " Never mind how long since it happed, I sat, as we sit, in a bothy ; " "With as merry a band of mates, too, Undergrads all on a level : (One 's a Bishop, one 's gone to the Bench, And one 's gone — well, to the Devil.) " When, lo, a scratching and tapping ! In hobbled a ghastly visitor, listen to just what he told us himself — No need of our playing inquisitor ! " Do you happen to know in Boss-shire Mount Ben . . . but the name scarce matters : Of the naked fact I am sure enough, Though I clothe it in rags and tatters. You may recognize Ben by description ; Behind him — a moor's immenseness : Up goes the piddle mount of a range, Fringed with its firs in denseness. Rimming the edge, its fir-fringe, mind ! For an edge there is, though narrow ; From end to end of the range, a stripe Of path runs straight as an arrow. And the mountaineer who takes that path Saves himself miles of journey He has to plod if he crosses the moor Through heather, peat, and burnie. But a mountaineer he needs must be, For, look you, right in the middle Projects bluff Ben — with an end in ich — Why planted there, is a riddle : Since all Ben's brothers little and big Keep rank, set shoulder to shoulder, And only this burliest out must bulge Till it seems — to the beholder From down in the gully, — as if Ben's breast, To a sudden spike diminished, 196 JOCOSERIA Would signify to the boldest foot " All further passage finished ! " Yet the mountaineer who sidles on And on to the very bending, Discovers, if heart and brain be proof, No necessary ending. Foot up, foot down, to the turn abrupt Having trod, he, there arriving, Finds — what he took for a point was breadth, A mercy of Nature's contriving. So, he rounds what, when 't is reached, proves straight, From one side gains the other : The wee path widens — resume the march, And he foils you, Ben my brother ! But Donald — (that name, I hope, will do) — I wrong him if I call " foiling " The tramp of the callant, whistling the while As blithe as our kettle 's boiling. He had dared the danger from boyhood up, And now, — when perchance was waiting A lass at the brig below, — 'twixt mount And moor would he stand debating ? Moreover this Donald was twenty-five, ' A glory of bone and muscle : Did a fiend dispute the right of way, Donald would try a tussle. Lightsomely marched he out of the broad On to the narrow and narrow ; A step more, rounding the angular rock, Reached the front straight as an arrow. He stepped it, safe on the ledge he stood, When — whom found he full-facing ? What fellow in courage and wariness too, Had scouted ignoble pacing, And left low safety to timid mates, And made for the dread dear danger, And gained the height where — who could guess He would meet with a rival ranger ? DONALD 197 'T was a gold-red stag that stood and stared, Gigantic and magnific, By the wonder — ay, and the peril — struck Intelligent and pacific : For a red deer is no fallow deer Grown cowardly through park-feeding ; He batters you like a thunderbolt If you brave his haunts unheeding. I doubt he could hardly perform volte-face Had valor advised discretion : You may walk on a rope, but to turn on a rope No Blondin makes profession. Yet Donald must turn, would pride permit, Though pride ill brooks retiring : Each eyed each — mute man, motionless beast — Less fearing than admiring. These are the moments when quite new sense, To meet some need as novel, Springs up in the brain : it inspired resource : — " Nor advance nor retreat but — grovel ! " And slowly, surely, never a whit Belaxing the steady tension Of eye-stare which binds man to beast, — By an inch and inch declension, Sank Donald sidewise down and down : Till flat, breast upwards, lying At his six-foot length, no corpse more still, — " If he cross me ! The trick 's worth trying." Minutes were an eternity ; But a new sense was created In the stag's brain too ; he resolves ! Slow, sure, With eye-stare unabated, Feelingly he extends a foot Which tastes the way ere it touches Earth's solid and just escapes man's soft, Nor hold of the same unclutches Till its fellow foot, light as a feather whisk, Lands itself no less finely : 198 JOCOSEBIA So a mother removes a fly from the face Of her babe asleep supinely. And now 't is the haunch and hind-foot's turn — That 's hard : can the beast quite raise it ? Yes, traversing half the prostrate length, His hoof-tip does not graze it. Just one more lift ! But Donald, you see, Was sportsman first, man after : A fancy lightened his caution through, — He wellnigh broke into laughter : " It were nothing short of a miracle ' Unrivalled, unexampled — All sporting feats with this feat matched Were down and dead and trampled ! " The last of the legs as tenderly Follows the rest : or never Or now is the time ! His knife in reach, And his right-hand loose — how clever ! For this can stab up the stomach's soft, While 'the left-hand grasps the pastern. A rise on the elbow, and — now 's the time Or never : this turn 's the last turn ! I shall dare to place myself by God Who scanned — for He does — each feature Of the face thrown up in appeal to Him By the agonizing creature. Nay, I hear plain words : " Thy gift brings this ! " Up he sprang, back he staggered, Over he fell, and with him our friend — At following game no laggard. Yet he was not dead when they picked next day From the gully's depth the wreck of him ; His fall had been stayed by the stag beneath Who cushioned and saved the neck of him. But the rest of his body — why, doctors said, Whatever could break was broken ; Legs, arms, ribs, all of him looked like a toast In a tumbler of port-wine soaken. DONALD 199 " That your life is left you, thank the stag ! " Said they when — the slow cure ended — They opened the hospital-door, and thence — Strapped, spliced, main fractures mended, And minor damage left wisely alone, — Like an old shoe clouted and cobbled, Out — what went in a Goliath wellnigh, — Some half of a David hobbled. " You must ask an alms from house to house : Sell the stag's head for a bracket, With its grand twelve tines — I 'd buy it myself — And use the skin for a jacket ! " He was wiser, made both head and hide His win-penny : hands and knees on, Would manage to crawl — poor crab — by the roads In the misty stalking-season. And if he discovered a bothy like this, Why, harvest was sure : folk listened. He told his tale to the lovers of Sport : Lips twitched, cheeks glowed, eyes glistened. And when he had come to the close, and spread His spoils for the gazers' wonder, With " Gentlemen, here 's the skull of the stag I was over, thank God, not under ! " — The company broke out in applause ; " By Jingo, a lucky cripple ! Have a munch of grouse and a hunk of bread, And a tug, besides, at our tipple ! " And " There 's my pay for your pluck ! " cried This, " And mine for your jolly story ! " Cried That, while T' other — but he was drunk — Hiccupped " A trump, a Tory ! " I hope I gave twice as much as the rest ; For, as Homer would say, " within grate Though teeth kept tongue," my whole soul growled, " Rightly rewarded, — Ingrate ! " 200 JOCOSERIA SOLOMON AND BALKIS. Solomon King of the Jews and the Queen of Sheba, Balkis, Talk on the ivory throne, and we well may conjecture their talk is Solely of things sublime : why else has she sought Mount Zion, Climbed the six golden steps, and sat betwixt lion and lion ? She proves him with hard questions : before she has reached the middle He smiling supplies the end, straight solves them riddle by riddle ; Until, dead-beaten at last, there is left no spirit in her, And thus would she close the game whereof she was first begin- ner : " O wisest thou of the wise, world's marvel and wellnigh monster, One crabbed question more to construe or vulgo conster ! Who are those, of all mankind, a monarch of perfect wisdom Should open to, when they knock at spheteron do — that 's, his dome ? " The King makes tart reply : " Whom else but the wise his equals Should he welcome with, heart and voice ? — since, king though he be, such weak walls Of circumstance — power and pomp — divide souls each from other That whoso proves kingly in craft I needs must acknowledge my brother. " Come poet, come painter, come sculptor, come builder — what- e'er his condition, Is he prime in his art? We are peers ! My insight has pierced the partition And hails — for the poem, the picture, the statue, the building — my fellow! Gold 's gold though dim in the dust : court-polish soon turns it yellow. " But tell me in turn, thou to thy weakling sex superior, That for knowledge hast travelled so far yet seemest no whit the wearier, — Who are those, of all mankind, a queen like thyself, consummate In wisdom, should call to her side with an affable ' Up hither, come, mate ' ? " SOLOMON AND BALKIS 201 " The Good are my mates — how else ? Why doubt it ? " the Queen upbridled : " Sure even above the Wise, — or in travel my eyes have idled, — I see the Good stand plain : be they rich, poor, shrewd, or simple, If Good they only are. . . . Permit me to drop my wimple ! " And, in that bashful jerk of her body, she — peace, thou scoffer ! — Jostled the King's right-hand stretched courteously help to proffer, And so disclosed a portent : all unaware the Prince eyed The Ring which bore the Name — turned outside now from inside ! The truth-compelling Name ! — and at once, " I greet the Wise — oh, Certainly welcome such to my court — with this proviso : The building must be my temple, my person stand forth the statue, The picture my portrait prove, and the poem my praise — you cat, you ! " But Solomon nonplussed ? Nay ! " Be truthful in turn ! " so bade he : " See the Name, obey its hest ! " And at once subjoins the lady, — " Provided the Good are the young, men strong and tall and proper, Such servants I straightway enlist, — which means" . . . But the blushes stop her. " Ah, Soul," the Monarch sighed, " that would'st soar yet ever crawlest, How comes it thou canst discern the greatest yet choose the smallest, Unless because heaven is far, where wings find fit expansion, While creeping on all-fours suits, suffices the earthly mansion ? " Aspire to the Best ! But which ? There are Bests and Bests so many, With a habitat each for each, earth's Best as much Best as any! On Lebanon roots the cedar — soil lofty, yet stony and sandy — While hyssop, of worth in its way, on the wall grows low but handy. 202 JOCOSERIA " Above may the Soul spread wing, spurn body and sense be- neath her ; Below she must condescend to plodding unbuoyed by ether. In heaven I yearn for knowledge, account all else inanity ; On earth I confess an itch for the praise of fools — that 's Vanity. " It is naught, it will go, it can never presume above to trouble me ; But here, — why, it toys and tickles and teases, howe'er I re- double me In a doggedest of endeavors to play the indifferent. Therefore, Suppose we resume discourse ? Thou hast travelled thus far : but wherefore ? " Solely for Solomon's sake, to see whom earth styles Sagest ? " Through her blushes laughed the Queen. " For the sake of a Sage ? The gay jest ! On high, be communion with Mind — there, Body concerns not Balkis : Down here, — do I make too bold ? Sage Solomon, — one fool's small kiss ! " CRISTINA AND MONALDESCHI. Ah, but how each loved each, Marquis ! Here 's the gallery they trod Both together, he her god, She his idol, — lend your rod, Chamberlain ! — ay, there they are — " Q uis Separabit ? " — plain those two Touching words come into view, Apposite for me and you : Since they witness to incessant Love like ours : King Francis, he — Diane the adored one, she — Prototypes of you and me. Everywhere is carved her Crescent With his Salamander-sign — Flame-fed creature : flame benign To itself or, if malign, Only to the meddling curious, — So, be warned, Sir ! "Where 's my head ? CR1STINA AND M0NALDESCH1 203 How it wanders ! What I said Merely meant - — the creature, fed Thus on flame, was scarce injurious Save to fools who woke its ire, Thinking fit to play with fire. 'T is the Crescent you admire ? Then, be Diane ! I '11 be Francis. Crescents change, — true 1 — wax and wane, Woman-like : male hearts retain Heat nor, once warm, cool again. So, we figure — such our chance is — I as man and you as . . . What ? Take offence ? My Love forgot He plays woman, I do not ? I — the woman? See my habit, Ask my people ! Anyhow, Be we what we may, one vow Binds us, male or female. Now, — Stand, Sir ! Read ! " Quis separabit ? " Half a mile of pictured way Past these palace-walls to-day Traversed, this I came to say. You must needs begin to love me ; First I hated, then, at best, — Have it so ! — I acquiesced ; Pure compassion did the rest. From below thus raised above me, Would you, step by step, descend, Pity me, become my friend, Like me, like less, loathe at end ? That 's the ladder's round you rose by ! That — my own foot kicked away, Having raised you : let it stay, Serve you for retreating ? Nay. Close to me you climbed : as close by, Keep your station, though the peak Reached proves somewhat bare and bleak ! Woman 's strong if man is weak. Keep here, loving me forever ! Love's look, gesture, speech, I claim •■ Act love, lie love, all the same — 204 JOCOSERIA Play as earnest were our game L Lonely I stood long : 't was clever When you climbed, before men's eyes, Spurned the earth and scaled the skies, Gained my peak and grasped your prize. Here you stood, then, to men's wonder ; Here you tire of standing ? Kneel ! Cure what giddiness you feel, This way ! Do your senses reel ? Not unlikely ! What rolls under ? Yawning death in yon abyss Where the waters whirl and hiss Round more frightful peaks than this. Should my buffet dash you thither . . . But be sage ! No watery grave Needs await you : seeming brave Kneel on safe, dear timid slave ! You surmised, when you climbed hither, Just as easy were retreat Should you tire, conceive unmeet Longer patience at my feet ? Me as standing, you as stooping, — Who arranged for each the pose ? Lest men think us friends turned foes, Keep the attitude you chose ! Men are used to this same grouping — I and you like statues seen. You and I, no third between, Kneel and stand ! That makes the scene. Mar it — and one buffet . . . Pardon ! Needless warmth — wise words in waste ! 'T was prostration that replaced Kneeling, then ? A proof of taste. Crouch, not kneel, while I mount guard on Prostrate love — become no waif, No estray to waves that chafe Disappointed — love so safe ! Waves that chafe ? The idlest fancy ! Peaks that scare ? I think we know Walls enclose our sculpture : so Grouped, we pose in Fontainebleau. CR1STINA AND MONALDESCHI 205 Up now ! Wherefore hesitancy ? Arm in arm and cheek by cheek, Laugh with me at waves and peak ! Silent still ? Why, pictures speak. See, where Juno strikes Ixion, Primatice speaks plainly ! Pooh — Bather, Florentine Le Roux ! I 've lost head for who is who — So it swims and wanders ! Fie on What still proves me female ! Here, By the staircase ! — for we near That dark " Gallery of the Deer." Look me in the eyes once ! Steady ! Are you faithful now as erst On that eve when we two first Vowed at Avon, blessed and cursed Faith and falsehood ? Pale already ? Forward ! Must my hand compel Entrance — this way ? Exit — well, Somehow, somewhere. Who can tell? What if to the selfsame place in Rustic Avon, at the door Of the village church once more, Where a tombstone paves the floor By that holy-water basin You appealed to — " As, below, This stone hides its corpse, e'en so I your secrets hide " ? What ho ! Friends, my four ! You, Priest, confess him ! I have judged the culprit there : Execute my sentence ! Care For no mail such cowards wear ! Done, Priest ? Then, absolve and bless him ! Now — you three, stab thick and fast, Deep" and deeper ! Dead at last ? Thanks, friends. — Father, thanks! Aghast? What one word of his confession Would you tell me, though I lured With that royal crown abjured Just because its bars immured 206 JOCOSERIA Love too much ? Love burst compression, Fled free, finally confessed All its secrets to that breast Whence ... let Avon tell the rest ! MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT AND FUSELL but is it not hard, Dear ? Mine are the nerves to quake at a mouse : If a spider drops I shrink with fear : I should die outright in a haunted house ; While for you — did the danger dared bring help — From a lion's den I could steal his whelp, With a serpent round me, stand stock-still, Go sleep in a churchyard, — so would will Give me the power to dare and do Valiantly — just for you ! Much amiss in the head, Dear, I toil at a language, tax my brain Attempting to draw — the scratches here ! I play, play, practise, and all in vain : But for you — if my triumph brought you pride, 1 would grapple with Greek Plays till I died, Paint a portrait of you — who can tell ? Work my fingers off for your " Pretty well : " Language and painting and music too, Easily done — for you ! Strong and fierce in the heart, Dear, With — more than a will — what seems a power To pounce on my prey, love outbroke here In flame devouring and to devour. Such love has labored its best and worst To win me a lover ; yet, last as first, I have not quickened his pulse one beat, Fixed a moment's fancy, bitter or sweet : Yet the strong fierce heart's love 's labor's due, Utterly lost, was — you ! IXION 207 ADAM, LILITH, AND EVE. One day, it thundered and lightened. Two women, fairly frightened, Sank to their knees, transformed, transfixed, At the feet of the man who sat betwixt ; And " Mercy ! " cried each — " if I tell the truth Of a passage in my youth ! " Said This : " Do you mind the morning I met your love with scorning ? As the worst of the venom left my lips, I thought, ' If, despite this lie, he strips The mask from my soul with a kiss — I crawl His slave, — soul, body, and all ! ' " Said That : " We stood to be married ; The priest, or someone, tarried ; ' If Paradise-door prove locked ? ' smiled you. I thought, as I nodded, smiling too, ' Did one, that 's away, arrive — nor late Nor soon should unlock Hell's gate ! ' " It ceased to lighten and thunder. Up started both in wonder, Looked round and saw that the sky was clear, Then laughed " Confess you believed us, Dear ! " " I saw through the joke ! " the man replied. They re-seated themselves beside. IXION. High in the dome, suspended, of Hell, sad triumph, behold us ! Here the revenge of a God, there the amends of a Man. Whirling forever in torment, flesh once mortal, immortal Made — for a purpose of hate — able to die and revive. Pays to the uttermost pang, then, newly for payment replenished, Doles out — old yet young — agonies ever afresh ; Whence the result above me : torment is bridged by a rainbow, — Tears, sweat, blood, — each spasm, ghastly once, glorified now. Wrung, by the rush of the wheel ordained my place or reposing, Off in a sparklike spray, — flesh become vapor through pain, — Plies the bestowment of Zeus, soul's vaunted bodily vesture, Made that his feats observed gain the approval of Man, — 208 JOCOSER1A Flesh that he fashioned with sense of the earth and the sky and the ocean, Framed should pierce to the star, fitted to pore on the plant, — All, for a purpose of hate, re-framed, re-fashioned, refitted, Till, consummate at length, — lo, the employment of sense ! Pain's mere minister now to the soul, once pledged to her pleasure — Soul, if untrammelled hy flesh, unapprehensive of pain ! Body, professed soul's slave, which serving beguiled and betrayed her, Made things false seem true, cheated through eye and through ear, Lured thus heart and brain to believe in the lying reported, — Spurn but the trait'rous slave, uttermost atom, away, What should obstruct soul's rush on the real, the only apparent ? Say I have erred, — how else ? Was I Ixion or Zeus ? Foiled by my senses I dreamed ; I doubtless awaken in wonder : This proves shine, that — shade ? Good was the evil that seemed ? Shall I, with sight thus gained, by torture be taught I was blind once ? Sisuphos, teaches thy stone — Tantalos, teaches thy thirst Aught which unaided sense, purged pure, less plainly demon- strates ? No, for the past was dream : now that the dreamers awake, Sisuphos scouts low fraud, and to Tantalos treason is folly. Ask of myself, whose form melts on the murderous wheel, What is the sin which throe and throe prove sin to the sinner ! Say the false charge was true, — thus do I expiate, say, Arrogant thought, word, deed, — mere man who conceited me godlike, Sat beside Zeus, my friend — knelt before Here 1 , my love ! What were the need but of pitying power to touch and disperse it, Film-work — eye's and ear's — all the distraction of sense ? How should the soul not see, not hear, — perceive and as plainly Render, in thought, word, deed, back again truth — not a - lie ? " Ay, but the pain is to punish thee ! " Zeus, once more for a pastime, Play the familiar, the frank ! Speak and have speech in return ! I was of Thessaly king, there ruled and a people obeyed me : Mine to establish the law, theirs to obey it or die : Wherefore ? Because of the good to the people, because of the honor IXION 209 Thence accruing to me, king, the king's law was supreme. What of the weakling, the ignorant criminal? Not who, excuseless, Breaking my law braved death, knowing his deed and its due — Nay, but the feeble and foolish, the poor transgressor, of purpose No whit more than a tree, born to erectness of bole, Palm or plane or pine, we laud if lofty, columnar — Loathe if athwart, askew, — leave to the axe and the flame ! Where is the vision may penetrate earth and beholding acknowl edge Just one pebble at root ruined the straightness of stem ? Whose fine vigilance follows the sapling, accounts for the failure, — Here blew wind, so it bent : there the snow lodged, so it broke ? Also the tooth of the beast, bird's bill, mere bite of the insect Gnawed, gnarled, warped their worst : passive it lay to offence. King — I was man, no more : what I recognized faulty I pun- ished, Laying it prone : be sure, more than a man had I proved, Watch and ward o'er the sapling at birthtime had saved it, nor simply Owned the distortion's excuse, — hindered it wholly : nay, more — Even a man, as I sat in my place to do judgment, and pallid Criminals passing to doom shuddered away at my foot, Could I have probed through the face to the heart, read plain a repentance, Crime confessed fools' play, virtue ascribed to the wise, Had I not stayed the consignment to doom, not dealt the re- newed ones Life to retraverse the past, light to retrieve the misdeed ? Thus had I done, and thus to have done much more it behoves thee, Zeus who madest man — flawless or faulty, thy work ! What if the charge were true, as thou mouthest, — Ixion the cherished Minion of Zeus grew vain, vied with the godships and fell, Forfeit through arrogance ? Stranger ! I clothed, with the graoe of our human, Inhumanity — gods, natures I likened to ours. Man among men I had borne me till gods forsooth must regard me — Nay, must approve, applaud, claim as a comrade at last. Summoned to enter their circle, I sat — their equal, how other ? 210 JOCOSERIA Love should be absolute love, faith is in fulness or naught. " I am thy friend, be mine ! " smiled Zeus : " If Here attract thee," Blushed the imperial cheek, " then — as thy heart may sug- gest ! " Faith in me sprang to the faith, my love hailed love as its fellow, ■ " Zeus, we are friends — how fast ! Here, my heart for thy heart ! " Then broke smile into fury of frown, and the thunder of " Hence, fool ! " Then through the kiss laughed scorn " Limbs or a cloud was to clasp ? " Then from Olumpos to Erebos, then from the rapture to tor- ment, Then from the fellow of gods — misery's mate, to the man ! — Man henceforth and forever, who lent from the glow of his nature Warmth to the cold, with light colored the black and the blank. So did a man conceive of your passion, you passion-protesters ! So did he trust, so love — ■ being the truth of your lie ! You to aspire to be Man ! Man made you who vainly would ape him : You are the hollowness, he — filling you, falsifies void. Even as — witness the emblem, Hell's sad triumph suspended, Born of my tears, sweat, blood — bursting to vapor above — Arching my torment, an iris ghostlike startles the darkness, Cold white — jewelry quenched — justifies, glorifies pain. Strive, my kind, though strife endure through endless obstruction, Stage after stage, each rise' marred by as certain a fall ! Baffled forever — yet never so baffled but, e'en in the baffling, When Man's strength proves weak, checked in the body or soul, Whatsoever the medium, flesh or essence, — Ixion 's Made for a purpose of hate, — clothing the entity Thou, — Medium whence that entity strives for the Not-Thou beyond it, Fire elemental, free, frame unencumbered, the All, — Never so baffled but — when, on the verge of an alien existence, Heartened to press, by pangs burst to the infinite Pure, Nothing is reached but the ancient weakness still that arrests strength, Circumambient still, still the poor human array, Pride and revenge and hate and cruelty — all it has burst through, Thought to escape, — fresh formed, found in the fashion it fled, JOCHANAN HAKKADOSH 211 Never so baffled but — when Man pays the price of endeavor, Thunderstruck, downthrust, Tartaros-doomed to the wheel, — Then, ay, then, from the tears and sweat and blood of his tor- ment, E'en from the triumph of Hell, up let him look and rejoice ! What is the influence, high o'er Hell, that turns to a rapture Pain — and despair's murk mists blends in a rainbow of hope ? What is beyond the obstruction, stage by stage though it baffle ? Back must 1 fall, confess " Ever the weakness I fled " ? No, for beyond, far, far is a Purity all-unobstructed ! Zeus was Zeus — not Man : wrecked by his weakness, I whirl. Out of the wreck I rise — past Zeus to the Potency o'er him ! I — to have hailed him my friend ! I — to have clasped her — my love! Pallid birth of my pain, — where light, where light is, aspiring Thither I rise, whilst thou — Zeus, keep the godship and sink ! JOCHANAN HAKKADOSH. " This now, this other story makes amends And justifies our Mishna," quoth the Jew Aforesaid. " Tell it, learnedest of friends ! " A certain morn broke beautiful and blue O'er Schiphaz city, bringing joy and mirth, — So had ye deemed ; while the reverse was true, Since one small house there gave a sorrow birth In such black sort that, to each faithful eye, Midnight, not morning settled on the earth. ow else, when it grew certain thou wouldst die, ur much-enlightened master, Israel's prop, Cximious Jochanan Ben Sabbathai ? Old, yea, but, undiminished of a drop, The vital essence pulsed through heart and brain ; Time left unsickled yet the plenteous crop On poll and chin and cheek, whereof a skein Handmaids might weave — hairs silk-soft, silver-white, Such as the wool-plant's ; none the less in vain 212 JOCOSERIA Had Physic striven her Lest against the spite Of fell disease : the Rabbi must succumb ; - And, round the couch whereon in piteous plight He lay a-dying, scholars, — awe-struck, dumb Throughout the night-watch, — roused themselves and spoke One to the other : " Ere death's touch benumb " His active sense, — while yet 'neath Reason's yoke Obedient toils his tongue, — befits we claim The fruit of long experience, bid this oak • " Shed us an acorn which may, all the same, Grow to a temple-pillar, — dear that day ! — When Israel's scattered seed finds place an3 name " Among the envious nations. Lamp us, pray, Thou the Enlightener ! Partest hence in peace ? Hailest without regret — much less, dismay — " The hour of thine approximate release From fleshly bondage soul hath found obstruct ? Calmly envisagest the sure increase " Of knowledge ? Eden's tree must hold unplucked Some apple, sure, has never tried thy tooth, Juicy with sapience thou hast sought, not sucked,? " Say, does age acquiesce in vanished youth ? Still towers thy purity above — as erst — Our pleasant follies ? Be thy last word — truth ! " The Rabbi groaned ; then, grimly, " Last as first The truth speak I — in boyhood who began Striving to live an angel, and, amerced " For such presumption, die now hardly man. What have I proved of life ? To live, indeed. That much I learned : hut here lies Jochanan " More luckless than stood David when, to speed His fighting with the Philistine, they brought Saul's harness forth : whereat, ' Alack, I need " ' Armor to arm me, but have never fought With sword and spear, nor tried to manage shield, .Proving arms' use, as well-trained warrior ought. JOCHANAN HAKKADOSH 213 " ' Only a sling and pebbles can I wield ! ' So he : while I, contrariwise, ' No trick Of weapon helpful on the battlefield " ' Comes unfamiliar to my theoric : But, bid me put in practice what I know, Give me a sword — it stings like Moses' stick, " 'A serpent I let drop apace.' E'en so, I, — able to comport me at each stage Of human life as never here below " Man played his part, — since mine the heritage Of wisdom carried to that perfect pitch, Ye rightly praise, — I, therefore, who, thus sage, " Could sure act man triumphantly, enrich Life's annals with example how I played Lover, Bard, Soldier, Statist, — (all of which " Parts in presentment failing, cries invade The world's ear — ' Ah, the Past, the pearl-gift thrown To hogs, time's opportunity we made " ' So light of, only recognized when flown ! Had we been wise ! ') — in fine, I — wise enough, — What profit brings me wisdom never shown " Just when its showing would from each rebuff Shelter weak virtue, threaten back to bounds Encroaching vice, tread smooth each track too rough " For youth's unsteady footstep, climb the rounds Of life's long ladder, one by slippery one, Yet make no stumble ? Me hard fate confounds " With that same crowd of wailers I outrun By promising to teach another cry Of more hilarious mood than theirs, the sun " I look my last at is insulted by. What cry, — ye ask ? Give ear on every side ! Witness yon Lover ! ' How entrapped am I ! " ' Methought, because a virgin's rose-lip vied With ripe Khubbezleh's, needs must beauty mate With meekness and discretion in a bride : 214 JOCOSERIA " ' Bride she became to me who wail — too late — Unwise I loved ! ' That 'a one cry. ' Mind 's my gift : I might have loaded me with lore, full weight " ' Pressed down and running over at each rift O' the brain-bag where the famished clung and fed. I filled it with what rubbish ! — would not sift " ' The wheat from chaff, sound grain from musty — shed Poison abroad as oft as nutriment — And sighing say but as my fellows said, " ' Unwise I learned ! ' That 's two. ' In dwarfs-play spent Was giant's prowess : warrior all unversed In war's right waging, I struck brand, was lent " ' For steel's fit service, on mere stone — and cursed Alike the shocked limb and the shivered steel, Seeing too late the blade's true use which erst " ' How was I blind to ! My cry swells the peal — Unwise I fought ! ' That 's three. But wherefore waste Breath on the wailings longer ? Why reveal " A root of bitterness whereof the taste Is noisome to Humanity at large ? First we get Power, but Power absurdly placed " In Folly's keeping, who resigns her charge To Wisdom when all Power grows nothing worth : Bones marrowless are mocked with helm and targe " When, like your Master's, soon below the earth With worms shall warfare only be. Farewell, Children ! I die a failure since my birth ! " " Not so ! " arose a protest as, pell-mell, They pattered from his chamber to the street, Bent on a last resource. Our Targums tell That such resource there is. Put case, there meet The Nine Points of Perfection — rarest chance — Within some saintly teacher whom the fleet Years, in their blind implacable advance, O'ertake before fit teaching born of these Have magnified his scholars' countenance, — JOCHANAN HAKKADOSH 215 If haply folk compassionating please To render up — according to his store, Each one — a portion of the life he sees Hardly worth saving when 't is set before Earth's benefit should the Saint, Hakkadosh, Favored thereby, attain to full fourscore — If such contribute (Scoffer, spare thy " Bosh ! ") A year, a month, a day, an hour — to eke Life out, — in him away the gift shall wash That much of ill-spent time recorded, streak The twilight of the so-assisted sage With a new sunrise : truth, though strange to speak ! Quick to the doorway, then, where youth and age, All Israel, thronging, waited for the last News of the loved one. " 'T is the final stage : " Art's utmost done, the Rabbi's feet tread fast The way of all flesh ! " So announced that apt Olive-branch Tsaddik : " Yet, O Brethren, cast " No eye to earthward ! Look where heaven has clapped Morning's extinguisher — yon ray-shot robe Of sun-threads — on the constellation mapped " And mentioned by our Elders, — yea, from Job Down to Satam, — as figuring forth — what ? Perpend a mystery ! Ye call it Dob, " ' The Bear ' : I trow, a wiser name than that Were Aish — ' The Bier ' : a corpse those four stars hold, Which — are not those Three Daughters weeping at, , " Banoth? I judge so : list while I unfold The reason. As in twice twelve hours this Bier Goes and returns, about the east-cone rolled, " So may a setting luminary here Be rescued from extinction, rolled anew Upon its track of labor, strong and clear, " About the Pole — that Salem, every Jew Helps to build up when thus he saves some Saint Ordained its architect. ' Ye grasp the clue 216 J0C0SER1A " To all ye seek ? The Rabbi's lamp-flame faint Sinks : would ye raise it ? Lend then life from yours, Spare each his oil-drop ! Do I need acquaint " The Chosen how self-sacrifice ensures Tenfold requital? — urge ye emulate The fame of those Old Just Ones death procures " Such praise for, that 't is now men's sole debate Which of the Ten, who volunteered at Rome To die for glory to our Race, was great " Beyond his fellows ? "Was it thou — the comb Of iron carded, flesh from bone, away, While thy lips sputtered through their bloody foam " Without a stoppage (O brave Akiba !) ' Hear, Israel, our Lord God is One ' i Or thou, Jischab ? — who smiledst, burning, since there lay, " Burning along with thee, our Law ! I trow, Such martyrdom might tax flesh to afford : While that for which I make petition now, " To what amounts it ? Youngster, wilt thou hoard Each minute of long years thou look'st to spend In dalliance with thy spouse ? Hast thou so soared, " Singer of songs, all out of sight of friend And teacher, warbling like a woodland bird, There 's left no Selah, 'twixt two psalms, to lend " Our late-so-tuneful quirist ? Thou, averred The fighter born to plant our lion-flag Once more on Zion's mount, — doth, all-unheard, " My pleading fail to move thee ? Toss some rag Shall stanch our wound, some minute never missed From swordsman's lustihood like thine ! Wilt lag " In liberal bestowment, show close fist When open palm we look for, — thou, wide-known For statecraft ? whom, 't is said, an if thou list, " The Shah himself would seat beside his throne. So valued were advice from th^e "... But here He stopped short : such a hubbub ! Not alone JOCBANAN HAKKADOSH 217 From those addressed, but far as well as near The crowd broke into clamor : " Mine, mine, mine — Lop from my life the excrescence, never fear ! " At me thou lookedst, markedst me ! Assign To me that privilege of granting life — Mine, mine ! " Then he : "Be patient ! I combine " The needful portions only, wage no strife With Nature's law nor seek to lengthen out The Rabbi's day unduly. 'T is the knife " I stop, — would cut its thread too short. About As much as helps life last the proper term, The appointed Fourscore, — that I crave, and scout " A too-prolonged existence. Let the worm Change at fit season to the butterfly ! And here a story strikes me, to confirm " This judgment. Of our worthies, none ranks high As Perida who kept the famous school : None rivalled him in patience : none ! For why ? " In lecturing it was his constant rule, Whatever he expounded, to repeat — Ay, and keep on repeating, lest some fool " Should fail to understand him fully — (feat Unparalleled, Uzzean !) — do ye mark ? — Five hundred times ! So might he entrance beat " For knowledge into howsoever dark And dense the brain-pan. Yet it happed, at close Of one especial lecture, not one spark " Of light was found to have illumed the rows Of pupils round their pedagogue. ' What, still Impenetrable to me ? Then — here goes ! ' " And for a second time he sets the rill Of knowledge running, and five hundred times More re-repeats the matter — and gains nil. " Out broke a voice from heaven : ' Thy patience climbs Even thus high. Choose ! Wilt thou, rather, quick Ascend to bliss — or, since thy zeal sublimes 218 JOCOSERIA " ' Such drudgery, will thy back still bear its crick, Bent o'er thy class, — thy Toice drone spite of drouth, — Five hundred years more at thy desk wilt stick ? ' " ' To heaven with me ! ' was in the good man's mouth, When all his scholars — cruel-kind were they ! — Stopped utterance, from East, West, North and South, " Rending the welkin with their shout of ' Nay — No heaven as yet for our instructor ! Grant Five hundred years on earth for Perida ! ' " And so long did he keep instructing ! Want Our Master no such misery ! I but take Three months of life marital. Ministrant " Be thou of so much, Poet ! Bold I make, Swordsman, with thy frank offer ! — and conclude, Statist, with thine ! One year, — ye will not shake " My purpose to accept no more. So rude ? The very boys and girls, forsooth, must press And proffer their addition ? Thanks ! The mood " Is laudable, but I reject, no less, One month, week, day of life more. Leave my gown, Ye overbold ones ! Your life's gift, you guess, " Were good as any ? Rudesby, get thee down ! Set my feet free, or fear my staff ! Farewell, Seniors and saviors, sharers of renown " With Jochanan henceforward ! " Straightway fell Sleep on the sufferer ; who awoke in health, Hale everyway, so potent was the spell. O the rare Spring-time ! Who is he by stealth Approaches Jochanan ? — embowered that sits Under his vine and figtree 'mid the wealth Of garden-sights and sounds, since intermits Never the turtle's coo, nor stays nor stints * The rose her smell. In homage that befits JOCHANAN HAKKADOSH 219 The musing Master, Tsaddik, see, imprints A kiss on the extended foot, low bends Forehead to earth, then, all-obsequious, hints " What if it should be time ? A period ends — That of the Lover's gift — his quarter-year Of lustihood : 't is just thou make amends, " Return that loan with usury : so, here Come I, of thy Disciples delegate, Claiming our lesson from thee. Make appear " Thy profit from experience ! Plainly state How men should Love ! " Thus he : and to him thus The Eabbi : " Love, ye call it ? — rather, Hate ! " What wouldst thou ? Is it needful I discuss Wherefore new sweet wine, poured in bottles caked With old strong wine's deposit, offers us " Spoilt liquor we recoil from, thirst-unslaked ? Like earth-smoke from a crevice, out there wound — Languors and yearnings : not a sense but ached " Weighed on by fancied form and feature, sound Of silver word and sight of sunny smile : No beckoning of.a flower-branch, no profound " Purple of noon-oppression, no light wile O' the West wind, but transformed itself till — brief — Before me stood the phantasy ye style w " Youth's love, the joy that shall not come to grief, Born to endure, eternal, unimpaired By custom the accloyer, time the thief. " Had Age's hard cold knowledge only spared That ignorance of Youth ! But now the dream, Fresh as from Paradise, alighting fared " As fares the pigeon, finding what may seem Her nest's safe hollow holds a snake inside Coiled to enclasp her. See, Eve stands supreme " In youth and beauty ! Take her for thy bride ! What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew Morn set a-sparkle, but which noon quick dried 220 JOCOSERIA " While Youth bent gazing at its red and blue Supposed perennial, — never dreamed the sun Which kindled the display would quench it too. " Graces of shape and color — everyone With its appointed period of decay When ripe to purpose ! ' Still, these dead and done, " ' Survives the woman-nature — the soft sway Of undefinable omnipotence O'er our strong male-stuff, we of Adam's clay.' " Ay, if my physics taught not why and whence The attraction ! Am I like the simple steer Who, from his pasture lured inside the fence, " Where yoke and goad await him, holds that mere Kindliness prompts extension of the hand Hollowed for barley, which drew near and near " His nose — in proof that, of the horned band, The farmer best affected him ? Beside, Steer, since his calfhood, got to understand " Farmers a many in the world so wide Were ready with a handful just as choice Or choicer — maize and cummin, treats untried. " Shall I wed wife, and all my days rejoice I gained the peacock ? 'Las me, round I look, And lo — ' With me thou wouldst have blamed no voice " ' Like hers that daily deafens like a rook : I am the phoenix ! ' — 'I, the lark, the dove, — The owl,' for aught knows he who blindly took " Peacock for partner, while the vale, the grove, The plain held bird-mates in abundance. There ! Youth, try fresh capture !* Age has found out Love " Long ago. War seems better worth man's care. But leave me ! Disappointment finds a balm Haply in slumber." " This first step o' the stair " To knowledge fails me, but the victor's palm Lies on the next to tempt him overleap A stumbling-block. Experience, gather calm, JOCHANAN HAKKADOSH 221 " Thou excellence of Judah, cured by sleep Which ushers in the Warrior, to replace The Lover ! At due season I shall reap " Fruit of my planting ' " So, with lengthened face, Departed Tsaddik : and three moons more waxed And waned, and not until the summer-space Waned likewise, any second visit taxed The Rabbi's patience. But at three months' end, Behold, supine beneath a rock, relaxed The sage lay musing till the noon should spend Its ardor. Up comes Tsaddik, who but he, With " Master, may I warn thee, nor offend, " That time comes round again ? We look to see Sprout from the old branch — not the youngling twig — But fruit of sycamine : deliver me, " To share among my fellows, some plump fig, Juicy as seedy ! That same man of war, Who, with a scantling of his store, made big " Thy starveling nature, caused thee, safe from scar, To share his gains by long acquaintanceship With bump and bruise and all the knocks that are " Of battle dowry, — he bids loose thy lip, Explain the good of battle ! Since thou know'st, Let us know likewise ! Fast the moments slip, " More need that we improve them ! " — " Ay, we boast, We warriors in our youth, that with the sword Man goes the swiftliest to the uttermost — " Takes the straight way through lands yet unexplored To absolute Bight and Good, — may so obtain God's glory and man's weal too long ignored, " Too late attained by preachments all in vain, — The passive process. Knots get tangled worse By toying with : does cut cord close again ? " Moreover there is blessing in the curse Peace-praisers call war. What so sure evolves All the capacities of soul, proves nurse 222 JOCOSERIA " Of that self-sacrifice in men which solves The riddle — Wherein differs Man from beast ? Foxes boast cleverness and courage wolves : " Nowhere but in mankind is found the least Touch of an impulse ' To our fellows — good I' the highest ! — not diminished but increased " ' By the condition plainly understood — Such good shall be attained at price of hurt I' the highest to ourselves ! ' Fine sparks, that brood " Confusedly in Man, 't is war bids spurt Forth into flame : as fares the meteor-mass, Whereof no particle but holds inert " Some seed of light and heat, however crass The enclosure, yet avails not to discharge Its radiant birth before there come to pass " Some push external, — strong to set at large Those dormant fire-seeds, whirl them in a trice Through heaven, and light up earth from marge to marge ; " Since force by motion makes — what erst was ice — Crash into fervency and so expire, Because some Djinn has hit on a device " For proving the full prettiness of fire ! Ay, Jhus we prattle — young : but old — why, first, Where 's that same Eight and Good — (the wise inquire) — " So absolute, it warrants the outburst Of blood, tears, all war's woful consequence, That comes of the fine, flaring ? Which plague cursed " The more your benefited Man — offence, Or what suppressed the offender ? Say it did — Show us the evil cured by violence, " Submission cures not also ! Lift the lid From the maturing crucible, we find Its slow sure coaxing-out of virtue, hid " In that same meteor-mass, hath uncombined Those particles and, yielding for result Gold, not mere flame, by so much leaves behind JOCHANAN HAKKADOSH 223 " The heroic product. E'en the simple cult Of Edom's children wisely bids them turn Cheek to the smiter with ' Sic Jesus vult.' " Say there '% a tyrant by whose death we earn Freedom, and justify a war to wage : Good ! — were we only able to discern " Exactly how to reach and catch and cage Him only and no innocent beside ! Whereas the folk whereon war wreaks its rage " — How shared they his ill-doing ? Far and wide The victims of our warfare strew the plain, Ten thousand dead, whereof not one but died " In faith that vassals owed their suzerain Life : therefore each paid tribute . — honest soul — To that same Right and Good ourselves are fain " To call exclusively our end. From bole (Since ye accept in me a sycamine) Pluck, eat, digest a fable — yea, the sole " Fig I afford you ! ' Dost thou dwarf my vine ? ' (So did a certain husbandman address The tree which faced his field.) ' Receive condign " ' Punishment, prompt removal by the stress Of axe I forthwith lay unto thy root ! ' Long did he hack and hew, the root no less " As long defied him, for its tough strings shoot As deep down as the boughs above aspire : All that he did was — shake to the tree's foot " Leafage and fruitage, things we most require For shadow and refreshment : which good deed Thoroughly done, behold the axe-haft tires " His hand, and he desisting leaves unfreed The vine he hacked and hewed for. Comes a frost, One natural night's-work, and there 's little need " Of hacking, hewing : lo, the tree 's a ghost ! Perished it starves, black death from topmost bough To farthest-reaching fibre ! Shall I boast 224 JOCOSERIA " My rough work — warfare — helped more ? Loving, no w - That, by comparison, seems wiser, since The loving fool was able to avow " He could effect his purpose, just evince Love's willingness, — once 'ware of what she lacked, His loved one, — to go work for that, nor wince " At self-expenditure : he neither hacked Nor hewed, but when the lady of his field Kequired defence because the sun attacked, " He, failing to obtain a fitter shield, "Would interpose his body, and so blaze, Blest in the burning. Ah, were mine to wield " The intellectual weapon — poet-lays, — How preferably had I sung one song Which . . . but my sadness sinks me : go your ways ! " I sleep out disappointment." " Come along, Never lose heart ! There 's still as much again Of our bestowment left to right the wrong " Done by its earlier moiety — explain Wherefore, who may ! The Poet's mood comes next. Was he not wishful the poetic vein " Should pulse within him ? Jochanan, thou reck'st Little of what a generous flood shall soon Float thy clogged spirit free and unperplexed " Above dry dubitation ! Song 's the boon Shall make amends for my untoward mistake That Joshua-like thou couldst bid sun and moon — " Fighter and Lover, — which for most men make All they descry in heaven, — stand both stock-still And lend assistance. Poet shalt thou wake ! " Autumn brings Tsaddik. " Ay, there speeds the rill . Loaded with leaves : a scowling sky, beside : The wind makes olive-trees up yonder hill " "Whiten and shudder — symptoms far and wide Of gleaning-time's approach ; and glean good store May I presume to trust we shall, thou tried JOCHANAN HAKKADOSH 225 " And ripe experimenter ! Three months more Have ministered to growth of Song: that graft Into thy sterile stock has found at core " Moisture, I warrant, hitherto unquaffed By boughs, however florid, wanting sap Of prose-experience which provides the draught " Which song-sprouts, wanting, wither : vain we tap A youngling stem all green and immature ; Experience must secrete the stuff, our hap " Will be to quench Man's thirst with, glad and sure That fancy wells up through corrective fact : Missing which test of truth, though flowers allure " The goodman's eye with promise, soon the pact Is broken, and 't is flowers — mere words — he finds When things — that 's fruit — he looked for. Well, once cracked " The nut, how glad my tooth the kernel grinds ! Song may henceforth boast substance ! Therefore, hail Proser and poet, perfect in both kinds ! " Thou from whose eye hath dropped the envious scale Which hides the truth of things and substitutes Deceptive show, unaided optics fail " To transpierce, — hast entrusted to the lute's Soft but sure guardianship some unrevealed Secret shall lift mankind above the brutes " As only knowledge can ? " "A fount unsealed " (Sighed Jochanan) " should seek the heaven in leaps To die in dew-gems — not find death, congealed " By contact with the cavern's nether deeps, Earth's secretest foundation where, enswathed In dark and fear, primeval mystery sleeps — " Petrific fount wherein my fancies bathed And straight turned ice. My dreams of good and fair In soaring upwards had dissolved, unscathed " By any influence of the kindly air, Singing, as each took flight, ' The Future — that 's Our destination, mists turn rainbows there, 226 J0C0SER1A " ' Which sink to fog, confounded in the flats O' the Present ! Day 's the song-time for the lark, Night for her music boasts but owls and bats. " ' And what 's the Past but night — the deep and dark Ice-spring I speak of, corpse-thicked with its drowned Dead fancies which no sooner touched the mark " ' They aimed at — fact — than all at once they found Their film-wings freeze, henceforth unfit to reach And roll in ether, revel — robed and crowned " ' As truths confirmed by falsehood all and each — Sovereign and absolute and ultimate ! Up with them, skyward, Youth, ere Age impeach " ' Thy least of promises to reinstate Adam in Eden ! ' Sing on, ever sing, Chirp till thou burst ! — the fool cicada's fate, " "Who holds that after Summer next comes Spring, Than Summer's self sun-warmed, spice-scented more. Fighting was better! Thei-e, no fancy-fling " Pitches you past the point was reached of yore By Samsons, Abners, Joabs, Judases, The mighty men of valor who, before " Our little day, did wonders none profess To doubt were fable and not fact, so trust By fancy-flights to emulate much less. " Were I a Statesman, now ! Why, that were just To pinnacle my soul, mankind above, A-top the universe : no vulgar lust " To gratify — fame, greed, at this remove Looked down upon so far — or overlooked So largely, rather — that mine eye should rove " World-wide and rummage earth, the many-nooked, Yet find no unit of the human flock Caught straying but straight comes back hooked and crooked " By the strong shepherd who, from out his stock Of aids proceeds to treat each ailing fleece, Here stimulate to growth, curtail and dock JOCHANAN HAKKADOSH 227 " There, baldness or excrescence, — that, with grease, This, with up-grubbing of the bristly patch Born of the tick-bite. How supreme a peace " Steals o'er the Statist, — while, in wit, a match For shrewd Ahithophel, in wisdom . . . well, His name escapes me — somebody, at watch " And ward, the fellow of Ahithophel In guidance of the Chosen ! " — at which word Eyes closed and fast asleep the Kabbi fell. " Cold weather ! " shivered Tsaddik. " Yet the hoard Of the sagacious ant shows garnered grain, Ever abundant most when fields afford " Least pasture, and alike disgrace the plain Tall tree and lowly shrub. 'T is so with us Mortals : our age stores wealth ye seek in vain " While busy youth culls just what we discuss At leisure in the last days : and the last Truly are these for Jochanan, whom thus " I make one more appeal to ! Thine amassed Experience, now or never, let escape Some portion of ! For I perceive aghast " The end approaches, while they jeer and jape, These sons of Shimei : ' Justify your boast ! What have ye gained from Death by twelve months' rape ? " Statesman, what cure hast thou for — least and most — Popular grievances ? What nostrum, say, Will make the Rich and Poor, expertly dosed, " Forget disparity, bid each go gay, That, with his bauble, — with his burden, this ? Propose an alkahest shall melt away " Men's lacquer, show by prompt analysis Which is the metal, which' the make-believe, So that no longer brass shall find, gold miss '' Coinage and currency ? Make haste, retrieve The precious moments, Master ! " Whereunto There snarls an " Ever laughing in thy sleeve, 228 JOCOSERIA " Pert Tsaddik ? Youth indeed sees plain a clue To guide man where life's wood is intricate : How shall he fail to thrid its thickest through " When every oak-trunk takes the eye ? Elate He goes from bole to brushwood, plunging finds — Smothered in briers — that the small 's the great ! • " All men are men : I would all minds were minds ! Whereas 't is just the many's mindless mass That most needs helping : laborers and hinds " We legislate for — not the cultured class Which law-makes for itself nor needs the whip And bridle, — proper help for mule and ass, " Did the brutes know ! In vain our statesmanship Strives at contenting the rough multitude : Still the ox cries ' 'T is me thou shouldst equip " ' With equine trappings ! ' or, in humbler mood, ' Cribful of corn for me ! and, as for work < — Adequate rumination o'er my food ! ' " Better remain a Poet ! Needs it irk Such an one if light, kindled in his sphere, Fail to transfuse the Mizraim cold and murk " Round about Goshen ? Though light disappear, Shut inside, — temporary ignorance Got outside of, lo, light emerging clear " Shows each astonished starer the expanse Of heaven made bright with knowledge ! That 's the way, The only way — I see it at a glance — " To legislate for earth ! As poet . . . Stay ! What is ... I would that . . . were it ... I had been . . . O sudden change, as if my arid clay " Burst into bloom ! " . . . "A change indeed, I ween, And change the last ! " sighe'd Tsaddik as he kissed The closing eyelids. " Just as those serene " Princes of Night apprised me ! Our acquist Of life is spent, since corners only four Hath Aisch, and each in turn was made desist JOCHANAN HAKKADOSH 229 " In passage round the Pole (O Mishna's lore — Little it profits here !) by strenuous tug Of friends who eked out thus to full fourscore " The Rabbi's years. I see each shoulder shrug ! What have we gained ? Away the Bier may roll ! To-morrow, when the Master's grave is dug, " In with his body I may pitch the scroll I hoped to glorify with, text and gloss, My Science of Man's Life : one blank 's the whole ! " Love, war, song, statesmanship — no gain, all loss, The stars' bestowment ! We on our return To-morrow merely find — not gold but dross, " The body not the soul. Come, friends, we learn At least thus much by our experiment — That — that . . . well, find what, whom it may concern ! " But next day through the city rumors went Of a new persecution ; so, they fled All Israel, each man, — this time, — from his tent, Tsaddik among the foremost. When, the dread Subsiding, Israel ventured back again Some three months after, to the cave they sped Where lay the Sage, — a reverential train ! Tsaddik first enters. " What is this I view ? The Rabbi still alive ? No stars remain " Of Aisch to stop within their courses. True, I mind me, certain gamesome boys must urge Their offerings on me : can it be — one threw " Life at him and it stuck ? There needs the scourge To teach that urchin manners ! Prithee, grant Forgiveness if we pretermit thy dirge " Just to explain no friend was ministrant, This time, of life to thee ! Some jackanapes, I gather, has presumed to foist his scant " Scurvy unripe existence — wilding grapes t Grass-green and sorrel-sour — on that grand wine, Mighty as mellow, which, so fancy shapes 230 JOCOSERIA " May fitly image forth this life of thine Fed on the last low fattening lees — condensed Elixir, no milk-mildness of the vine ! " Rightly with Tsaddik wert thou now incensed Had he been witting of the mischief wrought "When, for elixir, verjuice he dispensed ! " And slowly woke, — like Shushan's flower besought By over-curious handling to unloose The curtained secrecy wherein she thought Her captive bee, 'mid store of sweets to choose, Would loll, in gold pavilioned lie unteased, Sucking on, sated never, — whose, O whose Might seem that countenance, uplift, all eased Of old distraction and bewilderment, Absurdly happy ? " How ye have appeased " The strife within me, bred this whole content, This utter acquiescence in my past, Present and future life, — by whom was lent " The power to work this miracle at last, — Exceeds my guess. Though — ignorance confirmed By knowledge sounds like paradox, I cast " Vainly about to tell you — fitlier termed — Of calm struck by encountering opposites, Each nullifying either ! Henceforth wormed " From out my heart is every snake that bites The dove that else would brood there : doubt, which kill? With hiss of ' What if sorrows end delights ? ' " Fear which stings ease with ' Work the Master wills ! ' Experience which coils round and strangles quick Each hope with ' Ask the Past if hoping skills " ' To work accomplishment, or proves a trick Wiling thee to endeavor ! Strive, fool, stop Nowise, so live, so die — that 's law ! why kick " .' Against the pricks ? ' All out-wormed ! Slumber, drop Thy films once more and veil the bliss within ! Experience strangle hope ? Hope waves a-top JOCHANAN HAKKADOSH 231 " Her wings triumphant ! Come what will, I win, Whoever loses ! Every dream 's assured Of soberest fulfilment. Where 's a sin " Except in doubting that the light, which lured The unwary into darkness, meant no wrong Had I but marched on bold, nor paused immured " By mists I should have pressed through, passed along My way henceforth rejoicing ? Not the boy's Passionate impulse he conceits so strong, " Which, at first touch, truth, bubble-like, destroys, — Not the man's slow conviction ' Vanity Of vanities — alike my griefs and joys ! ' " Ice ! — thawed (look up) each bird, each insect by — (Look round) by all the plants that break in bloom, (Look down) by every dead friend's memory " That smiles ' Am I the dust within my tomb ? ' Not either, but both these — amalgam rare — Mix in a product, not from Nature's womb, " But stuff which He the Operant — who shall dare Describe His operation ? — • strikes alive And thaumaturgic. I nor know nor care " How from this tohu-bohu — hopes which dive, And fears which soar — faith, ruined through and through By doubt, and doubt, faith treads to dust — revive " In some surprising sort, — as see, they do ! — Not merely foes no longer but fast friends. What does it mean unless — strange and new " Discovery ! — this life proves a wine-press — blends Evil and good, both fruits of Paradise, Into a novel drink which — who intends " To quaff, must bear a brain for ecstasies Attempered, not this all-inadequate Organ which, quivering within me, dies " — Nay, lives ! — what, how, — too soon, or else too late — I was — I am " . . . (" He babbleth ! " Tsaddik mused.) " O Thou Almighty, who canst reinstate 232 J0C0SER1A " Truths in their primal clarity, confused By man's perception, which is man's and made To suit his service, — how, once disabused " Of reason which sees light half shine half shade, Because of flesh, the medium that adjusts Purity to his visuals, both an aid " And hindrance, — how to eyes earth's air encrusts, When purged and perfect to receive truth's beam Pouring itself on the new sense it trusts " With all its plenitude of power, — how seem The intricacies now, of shade and shine, Oppugnant natures — Right and Wrong, we deem " Irreconcilable ? eyes of mine, Freed now of imperfection, ye avail To see the whole sight, nor may uncombine " Henceforth what, erst divided, caused you quail — So huge the chasm between the false and true, The dream and the reality ! All hail, " Day of my soul's deliverance — day the new, The never-ending ! What though every shape Whereon I wreaked my yearning to pursue " Even to success each semblance of escape Prom my own bounded self to some all-fair All-wise external fancy, proved a rape " Like that old giant's, feigned of fools — on air, Not solid flesh ? How otherwise ? To love — That lesson was to learn not here — but there — " On earth, not here ! 'Tis there we learn, — there prove Our parts upon the stuff we needs must spoil, Striving at mastery, there bend above " The spoiled clay potsherds, many a year of toil Attests the potter tried his hand upon, Till sudden he arose, wiped free from soil " His hand, cried ' So much for attempt — anon Performance ! Taught to mould the living vase,' What matter the cracked pitchers dead and gone ? ' JOCHANAN HAKKADOSH 233 " Could I impart and could thy mind embrace The secret, Tsaddik ! " " Secret none to me ! " Quoth Tsaddik, as the glory on the face Of Jochanan was quenched. " The truth I see Of what that excellence of Judah wrote, Doughty Halaphta. This a case must be " Wherein, though the last breath have passed the throat, So that ' The man is dead ' we may pronounce, Yet is the Ruach — (thus do we denote " The imparted Spirit) — in no haste to bounce From its entrusted Body, — some three days Lingers ere it relinquish to the pounce " Of hawk-clawed Death his victim. Further says Halaphta, ' Instances have been, and yet Again may be, when saints, whose earthly ways ' ' Tend to perfection, very nearly get To heaven while still on earth : and, as a fine Interval shows where waters pure have met " ' Waves brackish, in a mixture, sweet with brine, That 's neither sea nor river but a taste Of both — so meet the earthly aod divine " And each is either. * Thus I hold him graced — Dying on earth, half "inside and half out, Wholly in heaven, who knows ? My mind embraced " Thy secret, Jochanan, how dare I doubt ? Follow thy Ruach, let earth, all it can, Keep of the leavings ! " Thus was brought about The sepulture of Rabbi Jochanan : Thou hast him, — sinner-saint, live-dead, boy-man, — Schiphaz, on Bendimir, in Farzistan ! Note. — This story can have no better authority than that of the treatise, existing dispersedly in fragments of Rabbinical writing, □"Ha D , 2"l "hw ""JtPE, from which I might have helped myself more liberally. Thus, instead of the simple reference to " Moses' stick," 234 JOCOSERIA — but what if I make amends by attempting three illustrations, when some thirty might be composed on the same subject, equally justifying that pithy proverb ntt7»3 Dp Sb nttf D T2 71WT2T2. Moses the Meek was thirty cubits high, The staff he strode with — thirty cubits long ; And when he leapt, so muscular and strong Was Moses that his leaping neared the sky By thirty cubits more : we learn thereby He reached full ninety cubits — am I wrong ? — When, in a fight slurred o'er by sacred song, With staff outstretched he took a leap to try The just dimensions of the giant Og. And yet he barely touched — this marvel lacked Posterity to crown earth's catalogue Of marvels — barely touched — to be exact — The giant's ankle-bone, remained a frog That fain would match an ox in stature : fact ! And this same fact has met with unbelief ! How saith a certain traveller ? " Young, I chanced To come upon an object —7 if thou canst, Guess me its name and nature ! 'T was, in brief, White, hard, round, hollow, of such length, in chief, • — And this is what especially enhanced My wonder — that it seemed, as I advanced, Never to end. Bind up within thy sheaf Of marvels, this — Posterity ! I walked From end to end, — four hours walked I, who go A goodly pace, — and found — I have not balked Thine expectation, Stranger ? Ay or No ? — 'T was but Og's thighbone, all the while, I stalked Alongside of : respect to Moses, though ! Og's thighbone — if ye deem its measure strange, Myself can witness to much length of shank Even in birds. Upon a water's bank Once halting, I was minded to exchange Noon heat for cool. Quoth I, " On many a grange I have seen storks perch — legs both long and lank : Yon stork's must touch the bottom of this tank, Since on its top doth wet no plume derange Of the smooth breast. I '11 bathe there ! " " Do not so ! " Warned me a voice from heaven. " A man let drop PAMBO 235 His axe into that shallow rivulet — As thou acoountest — seventy years ago : It fell and fell and still without a stop Keeps falling, nor has reached the bottom yet." NEVER THE TIME AND THE PLACE. Never the time and the place And the loved one all together ! This path — how soft to pace ! This May — what magic weather ! Where is the loved one's face ? In a dream that loved one's face meets mine, But the house is narrow, the place is bleak Where, outside, rain and wind combine With a furtive ear, if I strive to speak, With a hostile eye at my flushing cheek, With a malice that marks each word, each sign ! O enemy sly and serpentine, Uncoil thee from the waking man ! Do I hold the Past Thus firm and fast Yet doubt if the Future hold I can ? This path so soft to pace shall lead Through the magic of May to herself indeed ! Or narrow if needs the house must be, Outside are the storms and strangers : we — Oh, close, safe, warm sleep I and she, — I and she ! PAMBO. Supposk that we part (work done, conies play) With a grave tale told in crambo — As our hearty sires were wont to say — Whereof the hero is Pambo ? Do you happen to know who Pambo was ? Nor I — but this much have heard of him : He entered one day a college-class, And asked — was it so absurd of him ? — 236 J0C0SER1A " May Pambo learn wisdom ere practise it ? In wisdom I fain would ground me : Since wisdom is centred in Holy Writ, Some psalm to the purpose expound me ! " " That psalm," the Professor smiled, " shall be Untroubled by doubt which dirtieth Pellucid streams when an ass like thee Would drink there — the Nine-and-thirtieth. " Verse First : I said I will look to my ways That I with my tongue offend not. How now ? Why stare ? Art struck in amaze ? Stop, stay ! The smooth line hath an end knot ! " He "s gone ! — disgusted my text should prove Too easy to need explaining ? Had he waited, the blockhead might find I move To matter that pays remaining ! " Long years went by, when — " Ha, who 's this ? Do I come on the restive scholar I had driven to Wisdom's goal, I wis, But that he slipped the collar ? " What ? Arms crossed, brow bent, thought-immersed ? A student indeed ! Why scruple To own that the lesson proposed him first Scarce suited so apt a pupil ? " Come back ! From the beggarly elements To a more recondite issue We pass till we reach, at all events, Some point that may puzzle . . . Why ' pish ' you ? " From the ground looked piteous up the head : " Daily and nightly, Master, Your pupil plods through that text you read, Yet gets on never the faster. " At the selfsame stand, — now old, then young ! / will look to my ways — wei - e doing As easy as saying ! — that I with my tongue Offend not — and 'scape pooh-poohing PAMBO 237 " From sage and simple, doctor and dunce ? Ah, nowise ! Still doubts so muddy The stream I would drink at once, — but once ! That — thus I resume my study ! " Brother, brother, I share the blame, Arcades sumus ambo I Darkling, I keep my sunrise-aim, Lack not the critic's flambeau, And look to my ways, yet, much the same, Offend with my tongue — like Pambo 1 PERISHTAH'S FANCIES His genius was jocular, but, when disposed, he could he very serious. — Article "Shakespear," Jeremy Collier's Historical etc. Dictionary, 2d edi- tion, 1701. You, Sir, I entertain you for one of my Hundred ; only, I do not like the fashion of your garments : you will say they are Persian : but let them be changed. — King Lear, Act III. Sc. 6. PROLOGUE. Pbay, Reader, have you eaten ortolans Ever in Italy ? Recall how cooks there cook them : for my plan 's To — Lyre with Spit ally. They pluck the birds, — some dozen luscious lumps, Or more or fewer, — Then roast them, heads by heads and rumps by rumps, Stuck on a skewer. But first, — and here 's the point I fain would press, — Don't think I 'm tattling ! — They interpose, to curb its lusciousness, — What, 'twixt each fatling ? First comes plain bread, crisp, brown, a toasted square : Then, a strong sage-leaf : (So we find books with flowers dried here and there Lest leaf engage leaf.) First, food — then, piquancy — and last of all Follows the thirdling : Through wholesome hard, sharp soft, your tooth must bite Ere reach the birdling. Now, were there only crust to crunch, you 'd wince : Unpalatable ! Sage-leaf is bitter-pungent — so'sa quince : Eat each who 's able ! But through all three bite boldly — lo, the gust ! Flavor — no fixture — 240 FERISHTAH'S FANCIES Flies permeating flesh and leaf and crust In fine admixture. So with your meal, my poem : masticate Sense, sight, and song there ! Digest these, and I praise your peptics' state, Nothing found wrong there. Whence springs my illustration who can tell ? — The more surprising That here eggs, milk, cheese, fruit suffice so well For gormandizing. A fancy-freak by contrast born of thee, Delightful Gressoney ! Who laughest " Take what is, trust what may be ! That 's Life's true lesson, — eh ? Maison Delapierre, Gressoney St. Jean, Val d'Aosta, September 12, '83. I. THE EAGLE. Dervish — (though yet un-dervished, call him so No less beforehand : while he drudged our way, Other his worldly name was : when he wrote Those versicles we Persians praise him for, — True fairy-work — Ferishtah grew his style) — Dervish Ferishtah walked the woods one eve, And noted on a bough a raven's nest Whereof each youngling gaped with callow beak Widened by want ; for why ? beneath the tree Dead lay the mother-bird. " A piteous chance ! How shall they 'scape destruction ? '.' sighed the sage — Or sage about to be, though simple still. Kesponsive to which doubt, sudden there swooped An eagle downward, and behold he bore (Great-hearted) in his talons flesh wherewith He stayed their craving, then resought the sky. " Ah, foolish, faithless me ! " the observer smiled, " Who toil and moil to eke out life, when, lo, Providence cares for every hungry mouth ! " To profit by which lesson, home went he, And certain days sat musing, — neither meat Nor drink would purchase by his handiwork. Then — for his head swam and his limbs grew faint - Sleep overtook the unwise one, whom in dream THE MELON-SELLER 241 God thus admonished : " Hast thou marked my deed ? Which part assigned hy providence dost judge Was meant for man's example ? Should he play The helpless weakling, or the helpful strength That captures prey and saves the perishing ? Sluggard, arise : work, eat, then feed who lack ! " Waking, " I have arisen, work I will, Eat, and so following. Which lacks food the more, Body or soul in me ? I starve in soul : So may mankind : and since men congregate In towns, not woods, — to Ispahan forthwith ! " Round us the wild creatures, overhead the trees, Underfoot the moss-tracks, — life and love with these ! I to wear a fawn-skin, thou to dress in flowers : All the long lone summer-day, that greenwood life of ours ! Rich-pavilioned, rather, — still the world without, — Inside — gold-roofed silk-walled silence round about ! Queen it thou on purple, — I, at watch and ward Couched beneath the columns, gaze, thy slave, love's guard ! So, for us no world ? Let throngs press thee to me ! Up and down amid men, heart by heart fare we ! Welcome squalid vesture, harsh voice, hateful face ! God is soul, souls I and thou : with souls should souls have place n. THE MELON-SELLER. Going his rounds one day in Ispahan, — Halfway on Dervishhood, not wholly there, — Ferishtah, as he crossed a certain bridge, Came startled on a well-remembered face. " Can it be ? What, turned melon-seller — thou ? Clad in such sordid garb, thy seat yon step Where dogs brush by thee and express contempt ? Methinks, thy head-gear is some scooped-out gourd ! Nay, sunk to slicing up, for readier sale, One fruit whereof the whole scarce feeds a swine ? Wast thou the Shah's Prime Minister, men saw Ride on his right-hand while a trumpet blew And Persia hailed the Favorite*? Yea, twelve years 242 FERISHTAH'S FANCIES Are past, I judge, since that transcendency, And thou didst peculate and art abased ; No less, twelve years since, thou didst hold in hand Persia, could'st halve and quarter, mince its pulp As pleased thee, and distribute — melon-like — Portions to whoso played the parasite, Or suck — thyself — each juicy morsel. How Enormous thy abjection, — hell from heaven, Made tenfold hell by contrast ! Whisper me ! Dost thou curse God for granting twelve years' bliss Only to prove this day 's the direr lot ? " Whereon the beggar raised a brow, once more Luminous and imperial, from the rags. " Fool, does thy folly think my foolishness Dwells rather on the fact that God appoints A day of woe to the unworthy one, Than that the unworthy one, by God's award, Tasted joy twelve years long ? Or buy a slice, Or go to school ! " To school Ferishtah went : And, schooling ended, passed from Ispahan To Nishapur, that Elburz looks above — Where they dig turquoise : there kept school himself, The melon-seller's speech, his stock in trade. Some say a certain Jew adduced the word Out of their book, it sounds so much the same. DTibsn nsn barn m&rr-ns : bsp3 Nb 3?~in-nS1 In Persian phrase, " Shall we receive good at the hand of God And evil not receive ? " But great wits jump. Wish no word unspoken, want no look away ! What if words were but mistake, and looks — too sudden, say ! Be unjust for once, Love ! Bear it — well I may ! Do me justice always ? Bid my heart — their shrine — Render back its store of gifts, old looks and words of thine •— Oh, so all unjust — the less deserved, the more divine ? ni. SHAH ABBAS. Anyhow, once full Dervish, youngsters came To gather up his own words, 'neath a rock Or else a palm, by pleasant Nishapur. SHAH ABBAS 243 Said someone, as Ferishtah paused abrupt, Reading a certain passage from the roll Wherein is treated of Lord Alj's life : " Master, explain this incongruity ! "When I dared question ' It is beautiful, But is it true ? ' — thy answer was ' In truth Lives beauty.' I persisting — ' Beauty — yes, In thy mind and in my mind, every mind That apprehends : but outside — so to speak — Did beauty live in deed as well as word, Was this life lived, was this death died — not dreamed ? ' ' Many attested it for fact,' saidst thou. ' Many ! ' but mark, Sir ! Half as long ago As such things were, — supposing that they were, — Reigned great Shah Abbas : he too lived and died — How say they ? Why, so strong of arm, of foot So swift, he stayed a lion in his leap On a stag's haunch, — with one hand grasped the stag, With one struck down the lion : yet, no less, Himself, that same day, feasting after sport, Perceived a spider drop into his wine, Let fall the flagon, died of simple fear. So all say, — so dost thou say ? " " Wherefore not ? " Ferishtah smiled : " though strange, the story stands Clear-chronicled : none tells it otherwise : The fact's eye-witness bore the cup, beside." " And dost thou credit one cup-bearer's tale, False, very like, and futile certainly, Yet hesitate to trust what many tongues Combine to testify was beautiful In deed as well as word ? No fool's report Of lion, stag and spider, but immense With meaning for mankind, — thy race, thyself ? " Whereto the Dervish : " First amend, my son, Thy faulty nomenclature, call belief Belief indeed, nor grace with such a name The easy acquiescence of mankind In matters nowise worth dispute, since life Lasts merely the allotted moment. Lo — That lion-stag-and-spider tale leaves fixed The fact for us that somewhen Abbas reigned, Died, somehow slain, — a useful registry, — Which therefore we — ' believe ' ? Stand forward, thou, My Yakub, son of Yusuf , son of Zal ! 244 FERISHTAH'S FANCIES I advertise thee that our liege, the Shah Happily regnant, hath become assured, By opportune discovery, that thy sires, Son by the father upwards, track their line To — whom but that same bearer of the cup Whose inadvertency was chargeable With what therefrom ensued, disgust and death To Abbas Shah, the over-nice of soul ? Whence he appoints thee, — such his clemency, — Not death, thy due, but just a double tax To pay, on thy particular bed of reeds Which flower into the brush that makes a broom Fit to sweep ceilings clear of vermin. Sure, Thou dost believe the story nor dispute That punishment should signalize its truth ? Down therefore with some twelve dinars ! Why start, — The stag's way with the lion hard on haunch ? ' Believe the story ? ' — how thy words throng fast ! — ' Who saw this, heard this, said this, wrote down this That and the other circumstance to prove So great a prodigy surprised the world ? Needs must thou prove me fable can be fact Or ere thou coax one piece from out my pouch ! ' " " There we agree, Sir : neither of us knows, Neither accepts that tale on evidence Worthy to warrant the large word — belief. Now I get near thee ! Why didst pause abrupt, Disabled by emotion at a tale Might match — be frank ! — for credibility The figment of the spider and the cup ? ' — To wit, thy roll's concerning Ali's life, Unevidenced — thine own word ! Little boots Our sympathy with fiction ! When I read The annals and consider of Tahmasp. And that sweet sun-surpassing star his love, I weep like a cut vine-twig, though aware Zurah's sad fate is fiction, since the snake He saw devour her, — how could such exist, Having nine heads ? No snake boasts more than three ! I weep, then laugh — both actions right alike. But thou, Ferishtah, sapiency confessed, When at the Day of Judgment God shall ask ' Didst thou believe ? ' — what wilt thou plead ? Thy tears ? (Nay, they fell fast and stain the parchment still.) What if thy tears meant love ? Love lacking ground SHAH ABBAS 245 — Belief, — avails thee as it would avail My own pretence to favor since, forsooth, I loved the lady — I, who needs must laugh To hear a snake boasts nine heads : they have three ! " " Thanks for the well-timed help that 's born, behold, Out of thy words, my son, — belief and love ! Hast heard of Ishak son of Absal ? Ay, The very same we heard of, ten years since, Slain in the wars : he comes back safe and sound, — Though twenty soldiers saw him die at Yezdt, — Just as a single mule-and-baggage boy Declared 'twas like he some day would, — for why? The twenty soldiers lied, he saw him stout, Cured of all wounds at once by smear of salve, A Mubid's manufacture : such the tale. Now, when his pair of sons were thus apprised Effect was twofold on them. ' Hail ! ' crowed This : ' Dearer the news than dayspring after night ! The cure-reporting youngster warrants me Our father shall make glad our eyes once more, For whom, had outpoured life of mine sufficed To bring him back, free broached were every vein ! ' 'Avaun't, delusive tale-concocter, news Cruel as meteor simulating dawn ! ' Whimpered the other : ' Who believes this boy, Must disbelieve his twenty seniors : no, Return our father shall not ! Might my death Purchase his life, how promptly would the dole Be paid as due ! ' Well, ten years pass, — aha, Ishak is marching homeward, — doubts, not he, Are dead and done with ! So, our townsfolk straight Must take on them to counsel. ' Go thou gay, Welcome thy father, thou of ready faith ! Hide thee, contrariwise, thou faithless one, Expect paternal frowning, blame and blows! ' So dp our townsfolk counsel : dost demur ? " " Ferishtah like those simpletons — at loss In what is plain as pikestaff ? Pish ! Suppose The trustful son had sighed ' So much the worse ! Returning means — retaking heritage Enjoyed these ten years, who should say me nay ? ' How would such trust reward him ? Trustlessness — O' the other hand — were what procured most praise To him who judged return impossible, 246 FERISHTAH'S FANCIES Yet hated heritage procured thereby. A fool were Ishak if he failed to prize Mere head's work less than heart's work : no fool he ! " " Is God less wise ? Resume the roll ! " They did. You groped your way across my room i' the drear, dark dead of night ; At each fresh step a stumble was : but, once your lamp alight, Easy and plain you walked again : so soon all wrong grew right ! What lay on floor to trip your foot ? Each object, late awry, Looked fitly placed, nor proved offence to footing free — for why ? The lamp showed all, discordant late, grown simple symmetry. Be love your light and trust your guide, with these explore my heart ! No obstacle to trip you then, strike hands and souls apart ! Since rooms and hearts are furnished so, — light shows you, — needs love start ? TV. THE FAMILY. A certain neighbor lying sick to death, Ferishtah grieved beneath a palm-tree, whence He rose at peace : whereat objected one " Gudarz our friend gasps in extremity. Sure, thou art ignorant how close at hand Death presses, or the cloud, which fouled so late Thy face, had deepened down not lightened off." " I judge there will be respite, for I prayed." " Sir, let me understand, of charity ! Yestereve, what was thine admonishment ? 'All-wise, all-good, all-mighty — God is such! ' How then should man, the all-unworthy, dare Propose to set aside a thing ordained ? To pray means — substitute man's will for God's : Two best wills cannot be : by consequence, What is man bound to but — assent, say I ? Rather to rapture of thanksgiving ; since That which seems worst to man to God is best, THE FAMILY 247 So, because God ordains it, best to man. Yet man — the foolish, weak, and wicked - — prays ! Urges ' My best were better, didst Thou know ' ! " " List to a tale. A worthy householder Of Shiraz had three sons, beside a spouse Whom, cutting gourds, a serpent bit, whereon The offended limb swelled black from foot to fork. The husband called in aid a leech renowned World-wide, confessed the lord of surgery, And bade him dictate — who forthwith declared ' Sole remedy is amputation.' Straight The husband sighed ' Thou knowest : be it so ! ' His three sons heard their mother sentenced : ' Pause ! ' Outbroke the elder : ' Be precipitate Nowise, I pray thee ! Take some gentler way, Thou sage of much resource ! I will not doubt But science still may save foot, leg, and thigh ! ' The next in age snapped petulant : ' Too rash ! No reason for this maiming ! What, Sir Leech, Our parent limps henceforward while we leap ? Shame on thee ! Save the limb thou must and shalt ! ' ' Shame on yourselves, ye bold ones ! ' followed up The brisk third brother, youngest, pertest too : ' The leech knows all things, we are ignorant ; What he proposes, gratefully accept ! For me, had I some unguent bound to heal Hurts in a twinkling, hardly would I dare Essay its virtue and so cross the sage By cure his skill pronounces folly. Quick ! No waiting longer ! There the patient lies : Out then with implements and operate ! ' " " Ah, the young devil ! " " Why, his reason chimed Bight with the Hakim's." " Hakim's, ay — but chit's ? How ? what the skilled eye saw and judged of weight To overbear a heavy consequence, That — shall a sciolist affect to see ? All he saw — that is, all such oaf should see, Was just the mother's suffering." " In my tale, Be God the Hakim : in the husband's case, 248 FERISHTAH'S FANCIES Call ready acquiescence — aptitude Angelic, understanding swift and sure : Call the first son — a wise humanity, Slow to conceive but duteous to adopt : See in the second son — humanity, Wrong-headed yet right-hearted, rash but kind. Last comes the cackler of the brood, our chit Who, aping wisdom all beyond his years, Thinks to discard humanity itself : . Fares like the beast which should affect to fly Because a bird with wings may spurn the ground, So, missing heaven and losing earth — drops how But hell-ward ? No, be man and nothing more — Man who, as man conceiving, hopes and fears, And craves and deprecates, and loves, and loathes, And bids God help him, till death touch his eyes And show God granted most, denying all." Man I am and man would be, Love — merest man and nothing more. Bid me seem no other ! Eagles boast of pinions — let them soar ! I may put forth angel's plumage, once unmanned, but not before. Now on earth, to stand suffices, — nay, if kneeling serves, to kneel : Here you front me, here I find the all of heaven that earth can feel : Sense looks straight, — not over, under, — perfect sees beyond appeal. Good you are and wise, full circle : what to me were more outside ? Wiser wisdom, better goodness ? Ah, such want the angel's wide Sense to take and hold and keep them ! Mine at least has never tried. V. THE SUN. "And what might that bold man's announcement be " - Ferishtah questioned — " which so moved thine ire That thou didst curse, nay, cuff and kick — in short, Confute the announcer ? Wipe those drops away Which start afresh upon thy face at mere Mention of such enormity : now, speak ! " " He scrupled not to say — (thou warrantest, O patient Sir, that I unblamed repeat THE ■ SUN 249 Abominable words which blister tongue ?) God once assumed on earth a human shape : (Lo, I have spitten !) Dared I ask the grace, Fain would I hear, of thy subtility, From out what hole in man's corrupted heart Creeps such a maggot : fancies verminous Breed in the clots there, but a monster born Of pride and folly like this pest — thyself Only canst trace to egg-shell it hath chipped." The sun rode high. " During our ignorance " — Began Ferishtah — " folk esteemed as God Yon orb : for argument, suppose him so, — Be it the symbol, not the symbolized, I and thou safelier take upon our lips. Accordingly, yon orb that we adore — What is he ? Author of all light and life : Such one must needs be somewhere : this is he. Like what ? If I may trust my human eyes, A ball composed of spirit-fire, whence springs — What, from this ball, my arms could circle round ? All I enjoy on earth. By consequence, Inspiring me with — what ? Why, love and praise. I eat a palatable fig — there J s love In little : who first planted what I pluck, Obtains my little praise, too : more of both Keeps due proportion with more cause for each : So, more and ever more, till most of all Completes experience, and the orb, descried Ultimate giver of all good, perforce Gathers unto himself all love, all praise, Is worshipped — which means loved and praised at height Back to the first good : 't was the gardener gave Occasion to my palate's pleasure : grace, Plain on his part, demanded thanks on mine. Go up above this giver, — step by step, Gain a conception of what — (how and why, Matters not now) — occasioned him to give, Appointed him the gardener of the ground, — I mount by just progression slow and sure To some prime giver — here assumed yon orb — Who takes my worship. Whom have I in mind, Thus worshipping, unless a man, my like Howe'er above me ? Man, I say — how else, I being man who worship ? Here 's my hand Lifts first a mustard-seed, then-weight on weight 250 FERISHTAH'S FANCIES Greater and ever greater, till at last It lifts a melon, I suppose, then stops — Hand-strength expended wholly : so, my love First lauds the gardener for the fig his gift, Then, looking higher, loves and lauds still more, Who hires the ground, who owns the ground, Sheikh, Shah, On and away, away and ever on, Till, at the last, it loves and lauds the orb Ultimate cause of all to laud and love. Where is the break, the change of quality In hand's power, soul's impulsion ? Gift was grace, The greatest as the smallest. Had I stopped Anywhere in the scale, stayed love and praise As so far only fit to follow gift, Saying, ' I thanked the gardener for his fig, But now that, lo, the Shah has filled my purse With tomans which avail to purchase me A figtree forest, shall I pay the same With love and praise, the gardener's proper fee ? ' Justly would whoso bears a brain object, 1 Giving is giving, gift claims gift's return, Do thou thine own part, therefore : let the Shah Ask more from who has more to pay.' Perchance He gave thee from his treasure less by much Than the soil's servant : let that be ! My part Is plain — to meet and match the gift and gift With love and love, with praise and praise, till both Cry ' All of us is thine, we can no more ! ' So shall I do man's utmost — man to man : For as our liege the Shah's sublime estate Merely enhaloes, leaves him ntan the same, So must I count that orb I call a fire (Keep to the language of our ignorance) Something that 's fire and more beside : mere fire — Is it a force which, giving, knows it gives, And wherefore, so may look for love and praise From me, fire's like so far, however less In all beside ? Prime cause this fire shall be, Uncaused, all-causing : hence begin the gifts, Thither must go my love and praise — to what ? Fire ? Symbol fitly serves the symbolized Herein, — that this same object of my thanks, While to my mind nowise conceivable Except as mind no less than fire, refutes Next moment mind's conception : fire is fire — While what I needs must thank, must needs include THE SUN 251 Purpose with power, — humanity like mine, Imagined, for the dear necessity, One moment in an object which the next Confesses unimaginable. Power ! — What need of will, then ? naught opposes power : Why, purpose ? any change must be for worse : And what occasion for beneficence When all that is, so is and so must be ? Best being best now, change were for the worse. Accordingly discard these qualities Proper to imperfection, take for type Mere fire, eject the man, retain the orb, — The perfect and, so, inconceivable, — And what remains to love and p/aise ? A stone Fair-colored proves a solace to my eye, Polled by my tongue brings moisture curing drought, And struck by steel emits a useful spark : Shall I return it thanks, the insentient thing ? No, — man once, man forever — man in soul As man in body : just as this can use Its proper senses only, see and hear, Taste, like or loathe according to its law And not another creature's, — even so Man's soul is moved by what, if it in turn Must move, is kindred soul : receiving good — Man's way — must make man's due acknowledgment, No other, even while he reasons out Plainly enough that, were the man unmanned, Made angel of, angelic every way, The love and praise that ^ightly seek and find Their man-like object now, ->— instructed more, Would go forth idly, air to emptiness. Our human flower, sun-ripened, proffers scent Though reason prove the sun lacks nose to feed On what himself made grateful : flower and man, Let each assume that scent and love alike Being once born, must needs have use ! Man's part Is plain — to send love forth, — astray, perhaps : No matter, he has done his part." " Wherefrom What is to follow — if I take thy sense — But that the sun — the inconceivable Confessed by man — comprises, all the same, Man's every-day conception of himself — No less remaining unconceived ! " " Agreed ! " 252 FERISHTAH'S FANCIES " Yet thou, insisting on the right of man To feel as man, not otherwise, — man, hound By man's conditions neither less nor more, Obliged to estimate as fair or foul, Right, wrong, good, evil, what man's faculty- Adjudges such, — how canst thou, — plainly bound To take man's truth for truth and only truth, — Dare to accept, in just one case, as truth Falsehood confessed ? Flesh simulating fire — Our fellow-man whom we his fellows know For dust — instinct with fire unknowable ! Where 's thy man-needed truth — its proof, nay print Of faintest passage on the tablets traced By man, termed knowledge ? 'T is conceded thee, We lack such fancied union — fire with flesh : But even so, to lack is not to gain Our lack's suppliance : where 's the trace of such Recorded ? " " What if such a tracing were ? If some strange story stood, — whate'er its worth, — That the immensely yearned-for, once befell, — The sun was flesh once ? — (keep the figure !) " "How? An union inconceivable was fact ? " " Son, if the stranger have convinced himself Fancy is fact — the sun, besides a fire, Holds earthly substance somehow fire pervades And yet consumes not, — earth, he understands, With essence he remains a stranger to, — Fitlier thou saidst ' I stand appalled before Conception unattainable by me Who need it most ' — than this — ' What ? boast he holds Conviction where I see conviction's need, Alas, — and nothing else ? then what remains But that I straightway curse, cuff, kick the fool ! ' " Fire is in the flint : true, once a spark escapes, Fire forgets the kinship, soars till fancy shapes Some befitting cradle where the babe had birth — Wholly heaven's the product, unallied to earth. Splendors recognized as perfect in the star ! — In our flint their home was, housed as now they are. M1HRAB SHAH 253 VI. MIHRAB SHAH. Quoth an inquirer, " Praise the Merciful ! My thumb which yesterday a scorpion nipped — (It swelled and blackened) — : lo, is sound again ! By application of a virtuous root The burning has abated : that is well. But now methinks 1 have a mind to ask, — Since this discomfort came of culling herbs Nor meaning harm, — why needs a scorpion be ? Yea, there began, from when my thumb last throbbed, Advance in question-framing, till I asked Wherefore should any evil hap to man — From ache of flesh to agony of soul — Since God's All-mercy mates All-potency ? Nay, why permits He evil to Himself — Man's sin, accounted such ? Suppose a world Purged of all pain, with fit inhabitant — Man pure of evil in thought, word, and deed — Were it not well ? Then, wherefore otherwise ? Too good result ? But He is wholly good ! Hard to effect ? Ay, were He impotent ! Teach me, Ferishtah ! " Said the Dervish : " Friend, My chance, escaped to-day, was worse than thine : I, as I woke this morning, raised my head, Which never tumbled but stuck fast on neck. Was not I glad and thankful ! " " How could head Tumble from neck, unchopped — inform me first ! Unless we take Firdausi's tale for truth, Who ever heard the like ? " ' " The like might hap By natural law : I let my staff fall thus — It goes to ground, I know not why. Suppose, Whene'er my hold was loosed, it skyward sprang As certainly, and all experience proved That, just as staves when unsupported sink, So, unconfined, they soar ? " " Let such be law — Why, a new chapter of sad accidents 254 FERJSHTAH'S FANCIES Were added to humanity's mischance, No doubt at all, and as a man's false step Now lays him prone on earth, contrariwise, Removal from his shoulder of a weight Might start him upwards to perdition. Ay ! But, since such law exists in just thy brain, I shall not hesitate to doff my cap For fear my head take flight." " Nor feel relief Finding it firm on shoulder. Tell me, now ! What were the bond 'twixt man and man, dost judge, Pain once abolished ? Come, be true ! Our Shah — How stands he in thy favor ? Why that shrug ? Is not he lord and ruler ? " " Easily ! His mother bore him, first of those four wives Provided by his father, such his luck : Since when his business simply was to breathe And take each day's new bounty. There he stands — Where else had I stood, were his birth-star mine ? No, to respect men's power, I needs must see Men's bare hands seek, find, grasp and wield the sword Nobody else can brandish ! Bless his heart, 'T is said, he scarcely counts his fingers right ! " " Well, then — his princely doles ! from every feast Off go the feasted with the dish they ate And cup they drank from, — nay, a change besides Of garments "... " Sir, put case, for service done,— Or best, for love's sake, — such and such a slave Sold his allowance of sour lentil-soup To therewith purchase me a pipe-stick, — nay, If he, by but one hour, cut short his sleep To clout my shoe, — that were a sacrifice ! " " All praise his gracious bearing." " All praise mine — Or would praise did they never make approach Except on all-fours, crawling till I bade, ' Now that with eyelids thou hast touched the earth, Come close and have no fear, poor nothingness ! ' MIHRAB SHAH 255 What wonder that the lady-rose I woo And palisade about from every wind, Holds herself handsomely ? The wilding, now, Ruffled outside at pleasure of the blast, That still lifts up with something of a smile Its poor attempt at bloom "... " A blameless life, Where wrong might revel with impunity — Remember that ! " " The falcon on his fist — Reclaimed and trained and belled and beautified Till she believes herself the Simorgh's match — She only deigns destroy the antelope, Stoops at no carrion-crow : thou marvellest ? " " So be it, then ! He wakes no love in thee For any one of divers attributes Commonly deemed love-worthy. All the same, I would he were not wasting, slow but sure, With that internal ulcer "... " Say'st thou so ? How should I guess ? Alack, poor soul ! But stay — Sure in the reach of art some remedy Must lie to hand : or if it lurk, — that leech Of fame in Tebriz, why not seek his aid ? Could'st not thou, Dervish, counsel in the case ? " " My counsel might be — what imports a pang The more or less, which puts an end to one Odious in spite of every attribute Commonly deemed love-worthy ? " "Attributes? Faugh ! — nay, Ferishtah, — 't is an ulcer, think ! Attributes, quotha ? Here 's poor flesh and blood, Like thine and mine and every man's, a prey To hell-fire ! Hast thou lost thy wits for once ? " " Friend, here they are to find and profit by ! Put pain from out the world, what room were left For thanks to God, for love to Man ? Why thanks, — ■ Except for some escape, whate'er the style, From pain that might be, naino it as thou may'st ? 256 FERISHTAH'S FANCIES Why love, — when all thy kind, save me, suppose, Thy father, and thy son, and . . . well, thy dog, To eke the decent number out — we few Who happen — like a handful of chance stars From the unnumbered host — to shine o'erhead And lend thee light, — our twinkle all thy store, — We only take thy love ! Mankind, forsooth ? Who sympathizes with their general joy Foolish as undeserved ? But pain — see God's Wisdom at work ! — man's heart is made to judge Pain deserved nowhere by the common flesh Our birthright, — bad and good deserve alike No pain, to human apprehension ! Lust, Greed, cruelty, injustice crave (we hold) Due punishment from somebody, ne doubt : But ulcer in the midriff ! that brings flesh Triumphant from the bar whereto arraigned Soul quakes with reason. In the eye of God Pain may have purpose and be justified : Man's sense avails to only see, in pain, A hateful chance no man but would avert, Or, failing, needs must pity. Thanks to God And love to man, — from man take these away, And what is man worth ? Therefore, Mihrab Shah, Tax me my bread and salt twice over, claim Laila my daughter for thy sport, — go on ! Slay my son's self, maintain thy poetry Beats mine, — thou meritest a dozen deaths ! But — ulcer in the stomach, — ah, poor soul, Try a fig-plaster : may it ease thy pangs ! " So, the head aches and the limbs are faint ! Flesh is a burden — even to you ! Can I force a smile with a fancy quaint ? Why are my ailments none or few ? In the soul of me sits sluggishness : Body so strong and will so weak : The slave stands fit for the labor — yes, But the master's mandate is still to seek. You, now — what if the outside clay Helped, not hindered the inside flame ? My dim to-morrow — your plain to-day, Yours the achievement, mine the aim ? A CAMEL-DRIVER 257 So were it rightly, so shall it be I Only, while earth we pace together For the purpose apportioned you and me, Closer we tread for a common tether. You shall sigh, " Wait for his sluggish soul ! Shame he should lag, not lamed as I ! " May not I smile, " Ungained her goal : Body may reach her — by and by " ? VII. A CAMEL-DRIVER. " How of his fate, the Pilgrims' soldier-guide Condemned" (Ferishtah questioned), "for he slew The merchant whom he convoyed with his bales — A special treachery ? " " Sir, the proofs were plain : Justice was satisfied : between two boards The rogue was sawn asunder, rightly served." " With all wise men's approval — mine at least." " Himself, indeed, confessed as much. ' I die Justly ' (groaned he) ' through over-greediness Which tempted me to rob : but grieve the most That he who quickened sin at slumber, — ay, Prompted and pestered me till thought grew deed, — The same is fled to Syria and is safe, Laughing at me thus left to pay for both. My comfort is that God reserves for him Hell's hottest " Idle words." " Enlighten me ! Wherefore so idle ? Punishment by man Has thy assent, — the word is on thy lips. Bv parity of reason, punishment By God should likelier win thy thanks and praise." " Man acts as man must : God, as God beseems. A camel-driver, when his beast will bite, Thumps her athwart the muzzle : why ? " ■" How else Instruct the creature — mouths should munch not bite ? " 2o8 FERISHTAIVS FANCIES " True, he is man, knows but man's trick to teach. Suppose some plain word, told her first of all, Had hindered any biting ? " " Find him such, And fit the beast with understanding first ! No understanding animals like Rakhsh Nowadays, Master ! Till they breed on earth, For teaching — blows must serve." " Who deals the blow — What if by some rare method, — magic, say, — He saw into the biter's very soul, And knew the fault was so repented of It could not happen twice ? " " That 's something : still, I hear, methinks, the driver say, ' No less Take thy fault's due ! Those long-necked sisters, see, Lean all a-stretch to know if Biting meets Punishment or enjoys impunity. For their sakes — thwack ! ' " " The journey home at end, The solitary beast safe-stabled now, In comes the driver to avenge a wrong Suffered from six months since, — apparently With patience, nay, approval : when the jaws Met i' the small o' the arm. ' Ha, Ladykin, Still at thy frolics, girl of gold ? ' laughed he : ' Eat flesh ? Rye-grass content thee rather with, Whereof accept a bundle ! ' Now, — what change ! Laughter by no means ! Now 't is, ' Fiend, thy frisk Was fit to find thee provender, didst judge ? Behold this red-hot twy-prong, thus I stick To hiss i' the soft of thee ! ' " " Behold ? behold A crazy noddle, rather ! Sure the brute Might wellnigh have plain speech coaxed out of tongue, And grow as voluble as Rakhsh himself At such mad outrage. ' Could I take thy mind, Guess thy desire ? If biting was offence, Wherefore the rye-grass bundle, why each day's Patting and petting, but to intimate My playsomeness had pleased thee ? Thou endowed With reason, truly ! ' " " Reason aims to raise Some makeshift scaffold-vantage midway, whence Man dares, for life's brief moment, peer below : But ape omniscience ? Nay ! The ladder lent A CAMEL-DRIVER 259 To climb by, step and step, until we reach The little foothold-rise allowed mankind To mount on and thence guess the sun's survey — Shall this avail to show us world-wide truth Stretched for the sun's descrying ? Eeason bids, ' Teach, Man, thy beast his duty first of all Or last of all, with blows if blows must be, — How else accomplish teaching ? ' Reason adds, ' Before man's First, and after man's poor Last, God operated and will operate.' — Process of which man merely knows this much, — That nowise it resembles man's at all, Teaching or punishing." "It follows, then, That any malefactor I would smite With God's allowance, God himself will spare Presumably. No scapegrace ? Then, rejoice Thou snatch-grace safe in Syria ! " " Friend, such view Is but man's wonderful and wide mistake. Man lumps his kind i' the mass : God singles thence Unit by unit. Thou and God exist — So think ! — for certain : think the mass — mankind — Disparts, disperses, leaves thyself alone ! Ask thy lone sou} what laws are plain to thee, — ; Thee and no other, — stand or fall by them ! That is the part for thee : regard all else For what it may be — Time's illusion. This Be sure of — '■ ignorance that sins, is safe. No punishment like knowledge ! Instance, now ! My father's choicest treasure was a book Wherein he, day by day and year by year, Recorded gains of wisdom for my sake When I should grow to manhood. While a child, Coming upon the casket where it lay Unguarded, — what did I but toss the thing Into a fire to make more flame therewith, Meaning no harm ? So acts man three-years old ! I grieve now at my loss by witlessness, But guilt was none to punish. Man mature — Each word of his I lightly held, each look I turned from — wish that wished in vain — nay, will That willed and yet went all to waste — 't is these Rankle like fire. Forgiveness ? rather grant Forgetf ulness ! The past is past and lost. However near I stand in his regard, 260 FERISHTAH'S FANCIES So much the nearer had I stood by steps Offered the feet which rashly spurned their help. That I call Hell ; why further punishment ? " When I vexed you. and you chid me, And I owned my fault and turned My cheek the way you bid me, And confessed the blow well earned, — My comfort all the while was — Fault was faulty — near, not quite ! Do you wonder why the smile was ? O'erpunished wrong grew right. But faults you ne'er suspected, Nay, praised, no faults at all, — Those would you had detected — Crushed eggs whence snakes could crawl 1 VIII. TWO CAMELS. Quoth one : " Sir, solve a scruple ! No true sage I hear of, but instructs his scholar thus : ' Would'st thou be wise ? Then mortify thyself ! Balk of its craving every bestial sense ! Say, " If I relish melons — so do swine ! Horse, ass, and mule consume their provender Nor leave a pea-pod : fasting feeds the soul." ' Thus they admonish : while thyself, I note, Eatest thy ration with an appetite, Nor fallest foul of whoso licks his lips And sighs — ' Well-saffroned was that barley-soup ! ' Can wisdom coexist with — gorge-and-swill, I say not, — simply sensual preference For this or that fantastic meat and drink ? Moreover, wind blows sharper than its wont This morning, and thou hast already donned Thy sheepskin over-garment : sure the sage Is busied with conceits that soar above A petty change of season and its chance Of causing ordinary flesh to sneeze ? I always thought, Sir" . . . " Son," Ferishtah said, " Truth ought to seem as never thought before. How if I give it birth in parable ? TWO CAMELS 261 A neighbor owns two camels, beasts of price And promise, destined each to go, next week, Swiftly and surely with his merchandise From Nishapur to Sebzevar, no truce To tramp, but travel, spite of sands and drought, In days so many, lest they miss the Fair. Each falls to meditation o'er his crib Piled high with provender before the start. Quoth this : ' My soul is set on winning praise From goodman lord and master, — hump to hoof, I dedicate me to his service. How? Grass, purslane, lupines, and I know not what, Crammed in my manger ? Ha, I see — I see ! No, master, spare thy money ! I shall trudge The distance and yet cost thee not a doit Beyond my supper on this mouldy bran.' ' Be magnified, master, for the meal So opportunely liberal ! ' quoth that. ' What use of strength in me but to surmount Sands and simooms, and bend beneath thy bales No knee until I reach the glad bazaar ? Thus I do justice to thy fare : no sprig Of toothsome chervil must I leave unchewed ! Too bitterly should I reproach myself Did I sink down in sight of Sebzevar, Remembering how the merest mouthful more Had heartened me to manage yet a mile ! ' And so it proved : the too-abstemious brute Midway broke down, his pack rejoiced the thieves, His carcass fed the vultures : not so he The wisely thankful, who, good market-drudge, Let down his lading in the market-place, No damage to a single pack. Which beast, Think ye, had praise and patting and a brand Of good-and-faithful-servant fixed on flank ? So, with thy squeamish scruple. What imports Fasting or feasting ? Do thy day's work, dare Refuse no help thereto, since help refused Is hindrance sought and found. Win but the race — Who shall object ' He tossed three wine-cups off, And, just at starting, Lilith kissed his lips ' ? " More soberly, — consider this, my Son ! Put case I never have myself enjoyed, Known by experience what enjoyment means, How shall I — share enjoyment ? — no, indeed ! — 262 FERISHTAH'S FANCIES Supply it to my fellows, — ignorant, As so I should be of the thing they crave, How it affects them, works for good or ill. Style my enjoyment self-indulgence — sin — Why should I labor to infect my kind With sin's occasion, bid them too enjoy, Who else might neither catch nor give again Joy's plague, but live in righteous misery ? Just as I cannot, till myself convinced, Impart conviction, so, to deal forth joy Adroitly, needs must I know joy myself. Renounce joy for my fellows' sake ? That 's joy Beyond joy ; but renounced for mine, not theirs ? Why, the physician called to help the sick, Cries ' Let me, first of all, discard my health ! ' No, Son : the richness hearted in such joy Is in the knowing what are gifts we give, Not in a vain endeavor not to know ! Therefore, desire joy and thank God for it ! The Adversary said, — a Jew reports, — : cnbs 2i»s s-v oann In Persian phrase, ' Does Job fear God for naught ? ' Job's creatureship is not abjured, thou fool ! He nowise isolates himself and plays The.independent equal, owns no more Than himself gave himself, so why thank God ? A proper speech were this DTlbSiQ 'Equals we are, Job, labor for thyself, Nor bid me help thee : bear, as best flesh may, Pains I inflict not nor avail to cure : Beg of me nothing thou thyself may'st win By work, or waive with magnanimity, Since we are peers acknowledged, — scarcely peers, Had I implanted any want of thine Only my power could meet and gratify.' No : rather hear, at man's indifference — ' Wherefore did I contrive for thee that ear Hungry for music, and direct thine eye To where I hold a seven-stringed instrument, Unless I meant thee to beseech me play ? ' " Once I saw a chemist take a pinch of powder — Simple dust it seemed — and half-unstop a phial : — Out dropped harmless dew. " Mixed nothings make " (quoth he) " Something ! " So they did : a thunderclap, but louder — Lightning-flash, but fiercer — put spectators' nerves to trial : Sure enough, we learned what was, imagined what might be. CHERRIES 263 Had I no experience how a lip's mere tremble, Look's half hesitation, cheek's just change of color, These effect a heartquake, — how should I conceive What a heaven there may be ? Let it but resemble Earth myself have known ! No bliss that 's finer, fuller, Only — bliss that lasts, they say, and fain would I believe. IX. CHEERIES. " What, I disturb thee at thy morning-meal : Cherries so ripe already ? Eat apace ! I recollect thy lesson yesterday. Yet — thanks, Sir, for thy leave to interrupt "... " Friend, I have finished my repast, thank God ! " " There now, thy thanks for breaking fast on fruit ! — Thanks being praise, or tantamount thereto. Prithee consider, have not things degree, Lofty and low ? Are things not great and small, Thence claiming praise and wonder more or less ? Shall we confuse them, with thy warrant too, Whose doctrine otherwise begins and ends With just this precept, ' Never faith enough In man as weakness, God as potency ' ? When I would pay soul's tribute to that same, Why not look up in wonder, bid the stars Attest my praise of the All-mighty One ? What are man's puny members and as mean Requirements weighed with Star-King Mushtari ? There is the marvel ! " " Not to man — that 's me. List to what happened late, in fact or dream. A certain stranger, bound from far away, Still the Shah's subject, found himself before Ispahan palace-gate. As duty bade, He enters in the courts, will, if he may, See so much glory as befits a slave Who only comes, of mind to testify How great and good is shown our lord the Shah. In he walks, round he casts his eye about, Looks up and down, admires to heart's content, Ascends the gallery, tries door and door, None says his reverence nay : peeps in at each, Wonders at all the unimagined use, 264 FERISHTAH'S FANCIES Gold here and jewels there, — so vast, that hall — So perfect yon pavilion ! — lamps above Bidding look up from luxuries below, — Evermore wonder topping wonder, — last — Sudden he comes upon a cosy nook, A nest-like little chamber, with his name, His own, yea, his and no mistake at all, Plain o'er the entry, — what, and he descries Just those arrangements inside, — oh, the care ! — Suited to soul and body both, — so snug The cushion — nay, the pipe-stand furnished so ! Whereat he cries aloud, — what think'st thou, Friend ? ' That these my slippers should be just my choice, Even to the color that I most affect, Is nothing : ah, that lamp, the central sun, What must it light within its minaret I scarce dare guess the good of ! Who lives there ? That let me wonder at, — no slipper toys Meant for the foot, forsooth, which kicks them — thus ! ' Never enough faith in omnipotence, — Never too much, by parity, of faith In impuissance, man's — which turns to strength When once acknowledged weakness every way. How ? Hear the teaching of another tale. " Two men once owed the Shah a mighty sum, Beggars they both were : this one crossed his arms And bowed his head, — ' whereof,' sighed he, ' each hair Proved it a jewel, how the host's amount Were idly strewn for payment at thy feet ! ' ' Lord, here they lie, my havings poor and scant ! All of the berries on my currant-bush, What roots of garlic have escaped the mice, And some five pippins from the seedling tree, — Would they were half-a-dozen ! Anyhow, Accept my all, poor beggar that I am ! ' ' Received in full of all demands ! ' smiled back The apportioner of every lot of ground From inch to acre. Littleness of love Befits the littleness of loving thing. What if he boasted ' Seeing I am great, " Great must my corresponding tribute be ' ? Mushtari, — well, suppose him seven times seven The sun's superior, proved so by some sage : Am I that sage ? To me his twinkle blue Is all I know of him and thank him for, PLOT-CULTURE 265 And therefore I have put the same in verse — ' Like yon blue twinkle, twinks thine eye, my Love ! ' Neither shalt thou be troubled overmuch Because thy offering — littleness itself — Is lessened by admixture sad and strange Of mere man's-motives, — praise with fear, and love "With looking after that same love's reward. Alas, Friend, what was free from this alloy, — Some smateh thereof, — in best and purest love Proffered thy earthly father ? Dust thou art, Dust shalt be to the end. Thy father took The dust, and kindly called the handful — gold, Nor cared to count what sparkled here and there, Sagely unanalytic. Thank, praise, love (Sum up thus) for the lowest favors first, The commonest of comforts ! aught beside Very omnipotence had overlooked Such needs, arranging for thy little life. Nor waste thy power of love in wonderment At what thou wiselier lettest shine unsoiled By breath of word. That this last cherry soothes A roughness of my palate, that I know : His Maker knows why Mushtari was made." Verse-making was least of my virtues : I viewed with despair Wealth that never yet was but might be — all that verse-making were If the life would but lengthen to wish, let the mind be laid bare. So I said "To do little is bad, to do nothing is worse " — And made verse. Love-making, — how simple a matter ! No depths to explore, No heights in a life to ascend ! No disheartening Before, No affrighting Hereafter, — love now will be love evermore. So I felt " To keep silence were folly : " — all language above, I made love. X. PLOT-CULTURE. " Ay, but, Ferishtah," — a disciple smirked, — " That verse of thine ' How twinks thine eye, my Love, Blue as yon star-beam ! ' much arrides myself Who haply may obtain a kiss therewith This eve from Laila where the palms abound — 266 FEMISHTAH'S FANCIES My youth, my warrant — so the palms be close ! Suppose when thou art earnest in discourse Concerning high and holy things, — abrupt I out with — ' Laila's lip, how honey-sweet ! ' — What say'st thou, were it scandalous or no ? I feel thy shoe sent flying at my mouth For daring — prodigy of impudence — Publish what, secret, were permissible. Well, — one slide further in the imagined slough, — Knee-deep therein, (respect thy reverence !) — Suppose me well aware thy very self Stooped prying through the palm-screen, while I dared Solace me with caressings all the same ? Unutterable, nay — unthinkable, Undreamable a deed of shame ! Alack, How will it fare should'st thou impress on me That certainly an Eye is over all And each, to mark the minute's deed, word, thought, As worthy of reward or punishment ? Shall I permit my sense an Eye-viewed shame, Broad daylight perpetration, — so to speak, — I had not dared to breathe within the Ear, With black night's help about me ? Yet I stand A man, no monster, made of flesh not cloud : Why made so, if my making prove offence To Maker's eye and ear ? " " Thou would'st not stand Distinctly Man," — Ferishtah made reply, u Not the mere creature, — did no limit-line Round thee about, apportion thee thy place Clean-cut from out and off the illimitable, — Minuteness severed from immensity. All of thee for the Maker, — for thyself, Workings inside the circle that evolve Thine all, — the product of thy cultured plot. So much of grain the ground's lord bids thee yield : Bring sacks to granary in Autumn ! spare Daily intelligence of this manure, That compost, how they tend to feed the soil : There thou art master sole and absolute — Only, remember doomsday ! Twit'st thou me Because I turn away my outraged nose Should'st thou obtrude thereon a shovelful Of fertilizing kisses ? Since thy sire Wills and obtains thy marriage with the maid, Enough ! Be reticent, I counsel thee, A PILLAR AT SEBZEVAR 267 Nor venture to acquaint him, point by point, What he procures thee. Is he so obtuse ? Keep thy instruction to thyself ! My ass — Only from him expect acknowledgment, The while he champs my gift, a thistle-bunch, How much he loves the largess : of his love I only tolerate so much as tells By wrinkling nose and inarticulate grunt, The meal, that heartens him to do my work, Tickles his palate as I meant it should." Not with my Soul, Love ! — bid no Soul like mine Lap thee around nor leave the poor Sense room I Soul, — travel-worn, toil-weary, — would confine Along with Soul, Soul's gains from glow and gloom, Captures from soarings high and divings deep. Spoil-ladeu Soul, how should such memories sleep ? Take Sense, too — let me love entire and whole — Not with my Soul ! Eyes shall meet eyes and find no eyes between, Lips feed on lips, no other lips to fear ! No past, no future — so thine arms but screen The present from surprise ! not there, 't is here — Not then, 't is now : — back, memories that intrude ! Make, Love, the universe our solitude, And, over all the rest, oblivion roll — Sense quenching Soul ! XL A PILLAR AT SEBZEVAR. " Knowledge deposed, then ! " — groaned whom that most grieved As foolishest of all the company. " What, knowledge, man's distinctive attribute, He doffs that crown to emulate an ass Because the unknowing long-ears loves at least Husked lupines, and belike the feeder's self — Whose purpose in the dole what ass divines ? " " Friend," quoth Ferishtah, " all I seem to know Is — I know nothing save that love I can Boundlessly, endlessly. My curls were crowned In youth with knowledge, — off, alas, crown slipped Next moment, pushed by better knowledge still '268 FERISHTAH'S FANCIES Which nowise proved more constant : gain, to-day, Was toppling loss to-morrow, lay at last — Knowledge, the golden ? — lacquered ignorance ! As gain — mistrust it ! Not as means to gain : Lacquer we learn by : cast in fining-pot, We learn, when what seemed ore assayed proves dross, — Surelier true gold's worth, guess how purity I' the lode were precious could one light on ore Clarified up to test of crucible. The prize is in the process : knowledge means Ever-renewed assurance by defeat That victory is somehow still to reach, But love is victory, the prize itself : Love — trust to ! Be rewarded for the trust In trust's mere act. In love success is sure, Attainment — no delusion, whatsoe'er The prize be : apprehended as a prize, A prize it is. Thy child as surely grasps An orange as he fails to grasp the sun Assumed his capture. What if soon he finds The foolish fruit unworthy grasping ? Joy In shape and color, — that was joy as true — Worthy in its degree of love — as grasp Of sun were, which had singed his hand beside. What if he said the orange held no juice Since it was not that sun he hoped to suck ? This constitutes the curse that spoils our life And sets man maundering of his misery, That there 's no meanest atom he obtains Of what he counts for knowledge but he cries ' Hold here, — 1 have the whole thing, — know, this time, Nor need search farther ! ' Whereas, strew his path With pleasures, and he scorns them while he stoops : ' This fitly call'st thou pleasure, pick up this And praise it, truly ? I reserve my thanks For something more substantial.' Fool not thus In practising with life and its delights ! Enjoy the present gift, nor wait to know The unknowable. Enough to say ' I feel Love's sure effect, and, being loved, must love The love its cause behind, — I can and do ! ' Nor turn to try thy brain-power on the fact, (Apart from as it strikes thee, here and now — Its how and why, i' the future and elsewhere) Except to — yet once more, and ever again, Confirm thee in thy utter ignorance : A PILLAR AT SEBZEVAR 269 Assured that, whatsoe'er the quality Of love's cause, save that love was caused thereby, This — nigh upon revealment as it seemed A minute since — defies thy longing looks, Withdrawn into the unknowable once more. Wholly distrust thy knowledge, then, and trust As wholly love allied to ignorance ! There lies thy truth and safety. Love is praise, And praise is love ! Refine the same, contrive An intellectual tribute — ignorance Appreciating ere approbative Of knowledge that is infinite ? With us, The small, who thank the knowledge of our kind Greater than we, the wiser ignorance Restricts its apprehension, sees and knows No more than brain accepts in faith of sight, Takes first what comes first, only sure so far. By Sebzevar a certain pillar stands So aptly that its gnomon tells the hour ; What if the townsmen said ' Before we thank Who placed it, for his serviceable craft, And go to dinner since its shade tells noon, Needs must we have the craftsman's purpose clear On half a hundred more recondite points Than a mere summons to a vulgar meal ! ' Better they say ' How opportune the help ! Be loved and praised, thou kindly-hearted sage Whom Hudhud taught, — the gracious spirit-bird, — How to construct the pillar, teach the time! ' So let us say — not ' Since we know, we love,' But rather ' Since we love, we know enough.' Perhaps the pillar by a spell controlled Mushtari in his courses ? Added grace Surely I count it that the sage devised, Beside celestial service, ministry To all the land, by one sharp shade at noon Falling as folk foresee. Once more, then, Friend — (What ever in those careless ears of thine Withal I needs must round thee) — knowledge doubt Even wherein it seems demonstrable ! X, 0V e ; — in the claim for love, that 's gratitude For apprehended pleasure, nowise doubt ! Pay its due tribute, — sure that pleasure is, While knowledge may be, at the most. See, now ! Bating my breakfast, I thanked God. — ' For love Shown in the cherries' flavor ? Consecrate 270 FERTSHTAH'S FANCIES So petty an example ? ' There 's the fault! We circumscribe omnipotence. Search sand To unearth water : if first handful scooped "% Yields thee a draught, what need of digging down Full fifty fathoms deep to find a spring "Whereof the pulse might deluge half the land ? Drain the sufficient drop, and praise what checks The drought that glues thy tongue, — what more would helj A brimful cistern ? Ask the cistern's boon When thou would'st solace camels : in thy case, Eelish the drop and love the lovable ! " " And what may be unlovable ? " " Why, hate ! If out of sand comes sand and naught but sand, Affect not to be quaffing at mirage, Nor nickname pain as pleasure. That, belike, Constitutes just the trial of thy wit And worthiness to gain promotion, — hence, Proves the true purpose of thine actual life. Thy soul's environment of things perceived, Things visible and things invisible, Fact, fancy — all was purposed to evolve This and this only — was thy wit of worth To recognize the drop's use, love the same, And loyally declare against mirage Though all the world asseverated dust Was good to drink ? Say, ' what made moist my lip, That I acknowledged moisture : ' thou art saved ! For why ? The creature and creator stand Rightly related so. Consider well ! Were knowledge all thy faculty, then God Must be ignored : love gains him by first leap. Frankly accept the creatureship : ask good To love for : press bold to the tether's end Allotted to this life's intelligence ! ' So we offend ? ' Will it offend thyself If — impuissance praying potency — Thy child beseech that thou command the sun Rise bright to-morrow — thou, he thinks supreme In power and goodness, why should'st thou refuse ? Afterward, when the child matures, perchance The fault were greater if, with wit full-grown, The stripling dared to ask for a dinar, Than that the boy cried ' Pluck Sitara down A BEAN-STRIPE: ALSO APPLE-EATING 271 And give her me to play with ! ' 'T is for him To have no bounds to his belief in thee : For thee it also is to let her shine Lustrous and lonely, so best serving him ! " Ask not one least word of praise I Words declare your eyes are bright ? What then meant that summer day's Silence spent in one long gaze ? Was my silence wrong or right ? Words of praise were all to seek ! Face of you and form of you, Did they find the praise so weak When my lips just touched your cheek — Touch which let my soul come through ? XII. A BEAN-STRIPE: ALSO APPLE-EATING. " Look, I strew beans "... (Ferishtah, we premise, Strove this way with a scholar's cavilment Who put the peevish question : " Sir, be frank ! A good thing or a bad thing — Life is which ? Shine and shade, happiness and misery Battle it out there : which force beats, I ask ? If I pick beans from out a bushelf ul — This one, this other, — then demand of thee What color names each justly in the main, — ' Black ' I expect, and ' White ' ensues reply : No hesitation for what speck, spot, splash Of either color's opposite, intrudes To modify thy judgment. Well, for beans Substitute days, — show, ranged in order, Life — Then, tell me its true color ! Time is short, Life's days compose a span, — as brief be speech ! Black I pronounce for, like the Indian Sage, — Black — present, past, and future, interspersed With blanks, no doubt, which simple folk style Good Because not Evil : no, indeed ? Forsooth, Black's shade on White is White too ! What 's the worst Of Evil but that, past, it overshades The else-exempted present ? — memory, 272 FERISHTAH'S FANCIES We call the plague ! ' Nay, but our memory fades And leaves the past unsullied ! ' Does it so ? Why, straight the purpose of such breathing-space, Such respite from past ill, grows plain enough ! What follows on remembrance of the past ? Fear of the future ! Life, from birth to death, Means — either looking back on harm escaped, Or looking forward to that harm's return With tenfold power of harming. Black, not White, Never the whole consummate quietude Life should be, troubled by no fear ! — nor hope — I '11 say, since lamplight dies in noontide, hope Loses itself in certainty. Such lot Man's might have been : I leave the consequence To bolder critics of the Primal Cause ; Such am not I : but, man — as man I speak : Black is the bean-thro"w : evil is the Life ! ") •' Look, I strew beans," — resumed Ferishtah, — " beans Blackish and whitish ; what they figure forth Shall be man's sum of moments, bad and good, That make up Life, — each moment when he feels Pleasure or pain, his poorest fact of sense, Consciousness anyhow : there 's stand the first ; Whence next advance shall be from points to line, Singulars to a series, parts to whole, And moments to the Life. How look they now, Viewed in the large, those little joys and griefs Ranged duly all a-row at last, like beans — These which I strew ? This bean was white, this — black, Set by itself, — but see if, good and bad Each following either in companionship, Black have not grown less black and white less white, Till blackish seems but dun, and whitish — gray, And the whole line turns — well, or black to thee Or white belike to me — no matter which : The main result is — both are modified According to our eye's scope, power of range Before and after. Black dost call this bean ? What, with a whiteness in its wake, which — see — Suffuses half its neighbor ? — and, in turn, Lowers its pearliness late absolute, Frowned upon by the jet which follows hard — Else wholly white my bean were. Choose a joy ! Bettered it was by sorrow gone before, And sobered somewhat by the shadowy sense A BEAN-STRIPE^ ALSO APPLE-EATING 273 Of sorrow which came after or might come. Joy, sorrow, — by precedence, subsequence — Either on each, make fusion, mix in Life That 's both and neither wholly : gray or dun ? Dun thou decidest ? gray prevails, say I : Wherefore ? Because my view is wide enough, Reaches from first to last nor winks at all : Motion achieves it : stop short — fast we stick, — Probably at the bean that 's blackest. Since — Son, trust me, — this I know and only this — I am in motion, and all things beside That circle round my passage through their midst, — Motionless, these are, as regarding me : — Which means, myself I solely recognise. They too may recognize themselves, not me, For aught I know or care : but plain they serve This, if no other purpose — stuff to try And test my power upon of raying light And lending hue to all things as I go Moonlike through vapor. Mark the flying orb ! Think'st thou the halo, painted still afresh At each new cloud-fleece pierced and passaged through, This was and is and will be evermore Colored in permanence ? The glory swims Girdling the glory-giver, swallowed straight By night's abysmal gloom, unglorified Behind as erst before the advancer : gloom ? Faced by the onward-faring, see, succeeds From the abandoned heaven a next surprise, And where 's the gloom now ? — silver-smitten straight, One glow and variegation ! So with me. Who move and make — myself — the black, the white, The good, the bad, of life's environment. Stand still ! black stays black : start again ! there 's white Asserts supremacy : the motion 's all That colors me my moment : seen as joy ? — I have escaped from sorrow, or that was Or might have been : as sorrow ? — thence shall be Escape as certain : white preceded black, Black shall give way to white as duly, — so, f Deepest in black means white most imminent. Stand still, — have no before, no after ! — life Proves death, existence grows impossible To man like me. ' What else is blessed sleep But death, then ? ' Why, a rapture of release 274 FERISHTAH'S FANCIES From toil, — that 's sleep's approach : as certainly, The end of sleep means, toil is triumphed o'er : These round the blank inconsciousness between Brightness and brightness, either pushed to blaze Just through that blank's interposition. Hence The use of things external : man — that 'si — Practise thereon my power of casting light, And calling substance, — when the light I cast Breaks into color, — by its proper name — A truth and yet a falsity : black, white, Names each bean taken from what lay so close And threw such tint : pain might mean pain indeed Seen in the passage past it, — pleasure prove No mere delusion while I paused to look, — Though what an idle fancy was that fear Which overhung and hindered pleasure's hue ! While how, again, pain's shade enhanced the shine Of pleasure, else no pleasure ! Such effects Came of such causes. Passage at an end, — Past, present, future pains and pleasures fused So that one glance may gather blacks and whites Into a lifetime, — like my bean-streak there, Why, white they whirl into, not black — for me ! " " Ay, but for me ? The indubitable blacks, Immeasurable miseries, here, there And everywhere i' the world — world outside thine Paled off so opportunely, — body's plague, Torment of soul, — where 's found thy fellowship With wide humanity all round about Reeling beneath its burden ? What 's despair ? Behold that man, that woman, child — nay, brute ! Will any speck of white unblacken life Splashed, splotched, dyed hell-deep now from end to end For him or her or it — who knows ? Not I ! " " Nor I, Son ! ' It ' shall stand for bird, beast, fish, Reptile, and insect even : take the last ! There 's the palm-aphis, minute miracle As wondrous every whit as thou or I : Well, and his world 's the palm-frond, there he 's born, Lives, breeds, and dies in that circumference, An inch of green for cradle, pasture-ground, Purlieu and grave : the palm's use, ask of him ! ' To furnish these,' replies his wit : ask thine — Who see the heaven above, the earth below, A BEAN-STRIPE: ALSO APPLE-EATING 275 Creation everywhere, — these, each and all Claim certain recognition from the tree For special service rendered branch and bole, Top-tuft and tap-root : — for thyself, thus seen, Palms furnish dates to eat, and leaves to shade, — Maybe, thatch huts with, — have another use Than strikes the aphis. So with me, my Son ! I know my own appointed patch i' the world, What pleasures me or pains there : all outside — - How he, she, it, and even thou, Son, live, Are pleased or pained, is past conjecture, once I pry beneath the semblance, — all that 's fit, To practise with, — reach where the fact may lie Fathom-deep lower. There 's the first and last Of my philosophy. Blacks blur thy white ? Not mine ! The aphis feeds, nor finds his leaf Untenable, because a lance-thrust, nay, Lightning strikes sere a moss-patch close beside, Where certain other aphids live and love. Restriction to his single inch of white, That 's law for him, the aphis : but for me, The man, the larger-souled, beside my stretch Of blacks and whites, 1 see a world of woe All round about me : one such burst of black Intolerable o'er the life I count White in the main, and, yea — white's faintest trace Were clean abolished once and evermore. Thus fare my fellows, swallowed up in gloom So far as I discern : how far is that ? God's care be God's ! 'T is mine — to boast no joy Unsobered by such sorrows of my kind As sully with their shade my life that shines." " Reflected possibilities of pain, Forsooth, just chasten pleasure ! Pain itself, — Fact and not fancy, does not this affect The general color ? " " Here and there a touch Taught me, betimes, the artifice of things — That all about, external to myself, Was meant to be suspected, — not revealed Demonstrably a cheat, — but half seen through, Lest white should rule unchecked along the line Therefore white may not triumph. All the same, Of absolute and irretrievable 276 FERISHTAH'S FANCIES And all-subduing black, — black's soul of black Beyond white's power to disintensify, — Of that I saw no sample : such may wreck My life and ruin my philosophy To-morrow, doubtless : hence the constant shade Cast on life's shine, — the tremor that intrudes "When firmest seems my faith in white. Dost ask ' Who is Ferishtah, hitherto exempt From black experience ? Why, if God be just, Were sundry fellow-mortals singled out To undergo experience for his sake, Just that the gift of pain, bestowed on them, In him might temper to the due degree Joy's else-excessive largess ? ' Why, indeed ! Back are we brought thus to the starting-point — Man's impotency, God's omnipotence, These stop my answer. Aphis that I am, How leave my inch-allotment, pass at will Into my fellow's liberty of range, Enter into his sense of black and white, As either, seen by me from outside, seems Predominatingly the color ? Life, Lived by my fellow, shall I pass into And myself live there ? No — no more than "pass From Persia, where in sun since birth I bask Daily, to some ungracious land afar, Told of by travellers, where the might of snow Smothers up day, and fluids lose themselves Frozen to marble. How I bear the sun. Beat though he may unduly, that I know : How blood once curdled ever creeps again, Baffles conjecture : yet since people live Somehow, resist a clime would conquer me, Somehow provided for their sake must dawn Compensative resource. ' No sun, no grapes, — Then, no subsistence ! ' — were it wisely said ? Or this well-reasoned — ' Do I dare feel warmth And please my palate here with Persia's vine, Though, over-mounts, — to trust the traveller, — Snow, feather-thick, is falling while I feast ? What if the cruel winter force his way Here also ? ' Son, the wise reply were this : When cold from over-mounts spikes through and through Blood, bone and marrow of Ferishtah, — then, Time to look out for shelter — time, at least, To wring the hands and cry ' No shelter serves ! ' A BEAN-STRIPE: ALSO APPLE-EATING 277 Shelter, of some sort, no experienced chill Warrants that I despair to find." " No less, Doctors have differed here ; thou say'st thy say ; Another man's experience masters thine, Flat controverted by the sourly-Sage, The Indian witness who, with faculty Fine as Ferishtah's, found no white at all Chequer the world's predominating black, No good oust evil from supremacy, So that Life's best was that it led to death. How of his testimony ? " • " Son, suppose My camel told me : ' Threescore days and ten I traversed hill and dale yet never found Food to stop hunger, drink to stay my drought ; Yet, here I stand alive, which take in proof That to survive was found impossible ! ' ' Nay, rather take thou, non-surviving beast,' (Reply were prompt,) ' on flank this thwack of staff Nowise affecting flesh that 's dead and dry ! Thou wincest ? Take correction twice, amend Next time thy nomenclature ! Call white — white ! ' The sourly-Sage, for whom life's best was death, Lived out his seventy years, looked hale, laughed loud, Liked — above all — his dinner, — lied, in short." " Lied is a rough phrase : say he fell from truth In climbing towards it ! — sure less faulty so Than had he sat him down and stayed content With thy safe orthodoxy, ' White, all white, White everywhere for certain I should see Did I but understand how white is black, As clearer sense than mine would.' Clearer sense, — Whose may that be ? Mere human eyes I boast, And such distinguish colors in the main, However any tongue, that 's human too, Please to report the matter. Dost thou blame A soul that strives but to see plain, speak true, Truth at all hazards ? Oh, this false for real, This emptiness which feigns solidity, — Ever some gray that 's white and dun that 's black, — When shall we rest upon the thing itself Not on its semblance ? — Soul — too weak, forsooth, 278 FERISIITAH'S FANCIES To cope with fact — wants fiction everywhere ! Mine tires of falsehood : truth at any cost ! " " Take one and try conclusions — this, suppose ! God is all-good, all-wise, all-powerful : truth ? Take it and rest there. What is man ? Not God : None of these absolutes therefore, — yet himself, A creature with a creature's qualities. Make them agree, these two conceptions ! Each Abolishes the other. Is man weak, Foolish and bad ? He must be Ahriman, Co-equal with an Ormuzd, Bad with Good, Or else a thing made at the Prime Sole Will, Doing a maker's pleasure — with results Which — call, the wide world over, ' what must be ' — • But, from man's point of view, and only point Possible to his powers, call — evidence Of goodness, wisdom, strength ? we mock ourselves In all that 's best of us, — man's blind but sure Craving for these in very deed not word, Reality and not illusion. Well, — Since these nowhere exist — nor there where cause Must have effect, nor here where craving means Craving unfollowed by fit consequence And full supply, aye sought for, never found — These — what are they but man 's own rule of right ? A scheme of goodness recognized by man, Although by man unrealizable, — Not God's with whom to will were to perform : Nowise performed here, therefore never willed. What follows but that God, who could the best, Has willed the worst, — while man, with power to match Will with performance, were deservedly Hailed the supreme — provided . . . here 's the touch That breaks the bubble . . . this concept of man's Were man's own work, his birth of heart and brain, His native grace, no alien gift at all. The bubble breaks here. Will of man create ? No more than this my hand which strewed the beans Produced them also from its finger-tips. Back goes creation to its source, source prime And ultimate, the single and the sole." " How reconcile discordancy, — unite Notion and notion — God that only can Yet does not, — man that would indeed A BEAN-STRIPE: ALSO APPLE-EATING 279 But just as surely cannot, — both in one ? What help occurs to thy intelligence ? " " Ah, the beans, — or, — example better yet, — A carpet-web I saw once leave the loom And lie at gorgeous length in Ispahan ! The weaver plied his work with lengths of silk Dyed each to match some jewel as it might, And wove them, this by that. ' How comes it, friend,' — (Quoth I) — ' that while, apart, this fiery hue, That watery dimness, either shocks the eye, So blinding bright, or else offends again, By dulness, — yet the two, set each by each, Somehow produce a color born of both, A medium profitable to the sight ? ' ' Such medium is the end whereat I aim,' — Answered my craftsman : ' there 's no single tinct Would satisfy the eye's desire to taste The secret of the diamond : join extremes Results a serviceable medium-ghost, The diamond's simulation. Even so I needs must blend the quality of man With quality of God, and so assist Mere human sight to understand my Life, What is, what should be, — understand thereby Wherefore I hate the first and love the last, — Understand why things so present themselves To me, placed here to prove I understand. Thus, from beginning runs the chain to end, And binds me plain enough. By consequence, I bade thee tolerate, — not kick and cuff The man who held that natures did in fact Blend so, since so thyself must have them blend In fancy, if it take a flight so far." " A power, confessed past knowledge, nay, past thought, — Thus thought thus known ! " " To know of, think about — Is all man's sum of faculty effects When exercised on earth's least atom, Son ! What was, what is, what may such atom be ? No answer ! Still, what seems it to man's sense ? An atom with some certain properties Known about, thought of as occasion needs, — Man's — but occasions of the universe ? 280 FERISBTAH'S FANCIES Unthinkable, unknowable to man. Yet, since to think and know fire through and through Exceeds man, is the warmth of fire unknown, Its uses — are they so unthinkable ? Pass from such obvious power to powers unseen, Undreamed of save in their sure consequence : Take that, we spoke of late, which draws to ground The staff my hand lets fall : it draws, at least — Thus much man thinks and knows, if nothing more. " Ay, but man puts no mind into such power ! He neither thanks it, when an apple drops, Nor prays it spare his pate while underneath. Does he thank Summer though it plumped the rind ? Why thank the other force — whate'er its name — Which gave him teeth to bite and tongue to taste And throat to let the pulp pass ? Force and force, No end of forces ! Have they mind like man ? " " Suppose thou visit our lord Shalim-Shah, Bringing thy tribute as appointed. ' Here Come I to pay my due ! ' Whereat one slave Obsequious spreads a carpet for thy foot, His fellow offers sweetmeats, while a third Prepares a pipe : what thanks or praise have they ? Such as befit prompt service. Gratitude Goes past them to the Shah whose gracious nod Set all the sweet civility at work ; But for his ordinance, I much suspect, My scholar had been left to cool his heels Uncarpeted, or warm them — likelier still — ■ With bastinado for intrusion. Slaves Needs must obey their master : ' force and force, No end of forces,' act as bids some force Supreme o'er all and each : where find that one ? How recognize him ? Simply as thou didst The Shah — by reasoning ' Since I feel a debt, Behoves me pay the same to one aware I have my duty, he his privilege.' Didst thou expect the slave who charged thy pipe Would serve as well to take thy tribute-bag And save thee further trouble ? " " Be it so ! The sense within me that I owe a debt Assures me — somewhere must be somebody A BEAN-STRIPE: ALSO APPLE-EATING 281 Ready to take his due. All comes to this — Where due is, there acceptance follows : find Him who accepts the due ! and why look far ? Behold thy kindred compass thee about ! Ere thou wast born and after thou shalt die, Heroic man stands forth as Shahan-Shah. Rustem and Gew, Gudarz and all the rest, How come they short of lordship that 's to seek ? Dead worthies ! but men live undoubtedly Gifted as Sindokht, sage Sulayman's match, Valiant like Kawah : ay, and while earth lasts Such heroes shall abound there — all for thee Who profitest by all the present, past, And future operation of thy race. Why, then, o'erburdened with a debt of thanks, Look wistful for some hand from out the clouds To take it, when, all round, a multitude Would ease thee in a trice ? " " Such tendered thanks Would tumble back to who craved riddance, Son ! — Who but my sorry self ? See ! stars are out — Stars which, unconscious of thy gaze beneath, Go glorifying, and glorify thee too — Those Seven Thrones, Zurah's beauty, weird Parwin ! Whether shall love and praise to stars be paid Or — say — some Mubid who, for good to thee Blind at thy birth, by magic all his own Opened thine eyes, and gave the sightless sight, Let the stars' glory enter ? Say his charm Worked while thyself lay sleeping : as he went Thou wakedst : ' What a novel sense have I ! Whom shall I love and praise ? ' ' The stars, each orb Thou standest rapt beneath,' proposes one : ' Do not they live their life, and please themselves, And so please thee ? What more is requisite ? ' Make thou this answer : ' If indeed no mage Opened my eyes and worked a miracle, Then let the stars thank me who apprehend That such an one is white, such other blue ! But for my apprehension both were blank. Cannot I close my eyes and bid my brain Make whites and blues, conceive without stars' help, New qualities of color ? were my sight Lost or misleading, would yon red — I judge A ruby's benefaction — stand for aught 282 FERISHTAH'S FANCIES But green from vulgar glass ? Myself appraise Lustre and lustre ; should I overlook Fomalhaut and declare some fen-fire king, Who shall correct me, lend me eyes he trusts No more than I trust mine ? My mage for me ! I never saw him : if he never was, I am the arbitrator ! ' No, my Son ! Let us sink down to thy similitude : I eat my apple, relish what is ripe — The sunny side, admire its rarity Since half the tribe is wrinkled, and the rest Hide commonly a maggot in the core, — And down Zerdusht goes with due smack of lips : But — thank an apple ? He who made my mouth To masticate, my palate to approve, My maw to further the concoction — Him I thank, — but for whose work, the orchard's wealth Might prove so many gall-nuts — stocks or stones For aught that I should think, or know, or care." 8< Why from the world," Ferishtah smiled " should thanks Go to this work of mine ? If worthy praise, Praised let it be and welcome : as verse ranks, So rate my verse : if good therein outweighs Aught faulty judged, judge justly ! Justice says : Be just to fact, or blaming or approving : But — generous ? No, nor loving ! •a Loving ! what claim to love has work of mine ? Concede my life were emptied of its gains To furnish forth and fill work's strict confine, Who works so for the world's sake — he complains With cause when hate, not love, rewards his pains I looked beyond the world for truth and beauty : Sought, found, and did my duty." EPILOGUE 283 EPILOGUE. Oh, Love — no, Love ! All the noise below, Love, Groanings all and moanings — none of Life I lose ! All of Life 's a cry just of weariness and woe, Love — " Hear at least, thou happy one ! " How can I, Love, but choose ? Only, when I do hear, sudden circle round me — Much as when the moon's might frees a space from cloud — Iridescent splendors : gloom — would else confound me — Barriered off and banished far — bright-edged the blackest shroud ! Thronging through the cloud-rift, whose are they, the faces Faint revealed yet sure divined, the famous ones of old ? " What " — they smile — " our names, our deeds so soon erases Time upon his tablet where Life's glory lies enrolled ? " Was it for mere fool's-play, make-believe and mumming, So we battled it like men, not boylike sulked or whined ? Each of us heard clang God's ' Come ! ' and each was coming : Soldiers all, to forward-face, not sneaks to lag behind ! "How of the field's fortune ? That concerned our Leader ! Led, we struck our stroke nor cared for doings left and right : Each as on his sole head, failer or succeeder, Lay the blame or lit the praise : no care for cowards : fight ! " Then the cloud-rift broadens, spanning earth that 's under, Wide our world displays its worth, man's strife and strife's success : All the good and beauty, wonder crowning wonder, Till my heart and soul applaud perfection, nothing less. Only, at heart's utmost joy and triumph, terror Sudden turns the blood to ice : a chill wind disencharms All the late enchantment ! What if all be error — If the halo irised round my head were, Love, thine arms ? Palazzo Giustinian-Recanati, Venice : December 1, 1883. PAELEYINGS WITH CEETAIN PEOPLE APOLLO AND THE FATES A PROLOGUE |Hymn. in Mercurium, v. 559. Eumenides, w. 693-4, 697-8. Alcestis. w 12, 33.) Apollo. (From above.) Flame at my footfall, Parnassus ! Apollo, Breaking ablaze on thy topmost peak, Burns thence, down to the depths — dread hollow — Haunt of the Dire Ones. Haste ! They wreak Wrath on Admetus whose respite I seek. the fates. (Below. Darkness.) Dragonwise couched in the womb of our Mother, Coiled at thy nourishing heart's core, Night ! Dominant Dreads, we, one by the other, Deal to each mortal his dole of light On earth — the upper, the glad, the bright. CLOTHO. Even so : thus from my loaded spindle Plucking a pinch of the fleece, lo, " Birth " Brays from my bronze lip : life I kindle : Look, 't is a man ! go, measure on earth The minute thy portion, whatever its worth ! LACHESIS. Woe-purfled, weal-prankt, — if it speed, if it linger, — Life's substance and show are determined by me. Who, meting out, mixing with sure thumb and finger. Lead life the due length : is all smoothness and glee, All tangle and grief ? Take the lot, my decree ! ATROPOS. — Which I make an end of : the smooth as the tangled My shears cut asunder : each snap shrieks " One more Mortal makes sport for us Moirai who dangled The puppet grotesquely till earth's solid floor Proved film he fell through, lost in Nought as before.'' 286 APOLLO AND THE FATES CLOTHO. I spin thee a thread. Live, Admetus ! Produce him ! LACHESIS. Go, — brave, wise, good, happy ! Now chequer the thread ! He is slaved for, yet loved by a god. I unloose him A goddess-sent plague. He has conquered, is wed, Men crown him, he stands at the height, — ATKOPOS. He is . . . apollo. (Entering: Light.) ■■ Dead ? " Nuy, swart spinsters ! So I surprise you Making and marring the fortunes of Man ? Huddling — no marvel, your enemy eyes you — Head by head bat-like, blots under the ban Of daylight earth's blessing since time began ! THE FATES. Back to thy blest earth, prying Apollo ! Shaft upon shaft transpierce with thy beams Earth to the centre, — spare but this hollow Hewn out of Night's heart, where our mystery seems Mewed from day's malice : wake earth from her dreams ! APOLLO. Crones, 't is your dusk selves I startle from slumber : Day's god deposes you — queens Night-crowned ! — Plying your trade in a world ye encumber, Fashioning Man's web of life — spun, wound, Left the length ye allot till a clip strews the ground ! Behold I bid truce to your doleful amusement — Annulled by a sunbeam ! THE FATES. Boy, are not we peers ? APOLLO. You with the spindle grant birth : whose inducement But yours — with the niggardly digits — endears To mankind chance and change, good and evil ? Your shears A PROLOGUE 287 ATBOPOS. Ay, mine end the conflict : so much is no fable. We spin, draw to length, cut asunder : what then ? So it was, and so is, and so shall be : art able To alter life's law for ephemeral men ? APOLLO. Nor able nor willing. To threescore and ten Extend but the years of Admetus ! Disaster O'ertook me, and, banished by Zeus, I became A servant to one who forbore me though master : True lovers were we. Discontinue your game, Let him live whom I loved, then hate on, all the same ! THE FATES. And what if we granted — law-flouter, use-trampler — His life at the suit of an upstart ? Judge, thou — Of joy were it fuller, of span because ampler ? For love's sake, not hate's, end Admetus — ay, now — Not a gray hair on head, nor a wrinkle on brow ! For, boy, 't is illusion : from thee comes a glimmer Transforming to beauty life blank at the best. Withdraw — and how looks life at worst, when to shimmer Succeeds the sure shade, and Man's lot frowns — confessed Mere blackness chance-brightened ? Whereof shall attest The truth this same mortal, the darling thou stylest, Whom love would advantage, — eke out, day by day, A life which 't is solely thyself reconcilest Thy friend to endure, — life with hope : take away Hope's gleam from Admetus, he spurns it. For, say — What 's infancy ? Ignorance, idleness, mischief : Youth ripens to arrogance, foolishness, greed : Age — impotence, churlishness, rancor : call this chief Of boons for thy loved one ? Much rather bid speed Our function, let live whom thou hatest indeed ! Persuade thee, bright boy-thing ! Our eld be instructive ! APOLLO. And certes youth owns the experience of age. Ye hold then, grave seniors, my beams are productive 288 APOLLO AND THE FATES — They solely — of good that 's mere semblance, engage Man's eye — gilding evil, Man's true heritage ? THE FATES. So, even so ! From without, — at due distance If viewed, — set a-sparkle, reflecting thy rays, — Life mimics the sun : but, withdraw such assistance, The counterfeit goes, the reality stays — An ice-ball disguised as a fire-orb. APOLLO. "What craze Possesses the fool then whose fancy conceits him As happy ? THE PATES. Man happy ? APOLLO. If otherwise — solve This doubt which besets me ! What friend ever greets him Except with " Live long as the seasons revolve," Not " Death to thee straightway " ? Tour doctrines absolve Such hailing from hatred : yet Man should know best. He talks it, and glibly, as life were a load Man fain would be rid of : when put to the test, He whines " Let it he, leave me trudging the road That is rugged so far, but methinks "... THE PATES. Ay, 't is owed To that glamour of thine, he bethinks him " Once past The stony, some patch, nay, a smoothness of sward Awaits my tired foot : life turns easy at last " — Thy largess so lures him, he looks for reward Of the labor and sorrow. APOLLO. It seems, then — debarred Of illusion — (I needs must acknowledge the plea) Man desponds and despairs. Yet, — still further to draw Due profit from counsel, — suppose there should be Some power in himself, some compensative law By virtue of which, independently . . . A PROLOGUE 289 THE FATES. Faugh ! Strength hid in the weakling ! What bowl-shape hast there, Thus laughingly proffered ? . A gift to our shrine ? Thanks — worsted in argument ! Not so ? Declare Its purpose ! APOLLO. I proffer earth's product, not mine. Taste, try, and approve Man's invention of — Wine ! THE PATES. We feeding suck honeycombs. APOLLO. Sustenance meagre ! Such fare breeds the fumes that show all things amiss. Quaff wine, — how the spirits rise nimble and eager, Unscale the dim eyes ! To Man's cup grant one kiss Of your lip, then allow — no enchantment like this ! CLOTHO. Unhook wings, unhood brows ! Dost hearken ? LACHESIS. I listen : I see — smell the food these fond mortals prefer To our feast, the bee's bounty ! ATKOPOS. The thing leaps !' But — glisten Its best, I withstand it — unless all concur In adventure so novel. APOLLO. Ye drink ? THE FATES. We demur. APOLLO. (Sweet Trine, be indulgent nor scout the contrivance Of Man — Bacchus-prompted ! The juice, I uphold, Illuminates gloom without sunny connivance, Turns fear into hope and makes cowardice bold, — Touching all that is leadlike in life turns it gold ! 290 APOLLO AND THE FATES THE FATES. Faith foolish as false ! APOLLO. But essay it, soft sisters ! Then mock as ye may. Lift the chalice to lip ! Good : thou next — and thou ! Seems the web, to you twisters Of life's yarn, so worthless ? CLOTHO. "Who guessed that one sip "Would impart such a lightness of limb ? LACHESIS. I could skip In a trice from the pied to the plain in my woof ! What parts each from either ? A hair's breadth, no inch. Once learn the right method of stepping aloof, Though on black next foot falls, firm I fix it, nor flinch, — Such my trust white succeeds ! ATBOPOS. One could live — at a pinch ! APOLLO. "What, beldames ? Earth's yield, by Man's skill, can effect Such a cure of sick sense that ye spy the relation Of evil to good ? But drink deeper, correct Blear sight more convincingly still ! Take your station Beside me, drain dregs ! Now for edification ! Whose gift have ye gulped ? Thank not me but my brother, Blithe Bacchus, our youngest of godships. 'T was he Found all boons to all men, by one god or other Already conceded, so judged there must be New guerdon to grace the new advent, you see ! Else how would a claim to Man's homage arise ? The plan lay arranged of his mixed woe and weal, So disposed — such Zeus' will — with design to make wise The witless — that false things were mingled with real, Good with bad : such the lot whereto law set the seal. Now, human of instinct — since Semele's son, Yet minded divinely — since fathered by Zeus, A PROLOGUE 291 With, nought Bacchus tampered, undid not things done, Owned wisdom anterior, would spare wont and use, Yet change — without shock to old rule — introduce. Regard how your cavern from crag-tip to base Frowns sheer, height and depth adamantine, one death ! I rouse with a beam the whole rampart, displace No splinter — yet see how my flambeau, beneath And above, bids this gem wink, that crystal unsheathe ! "Withdraw beam — disclosure once more Night forbids you Of spangle and sparkle — Day's chance-gift, surmised Rock's permanent birthright : my potency rids you No longer of darkness, yet light — recognized — Proves darkness a mask : day lives on though disguised. If Bacchus by wine's aid avail so to fluster Your sense, that life's fact grows from adverse and thwart To helpful and kindly by means of a cluster — Mere hand-squeeze, earth's nature sublimed by Man's art — Shall Bacchus claim thanks wherein Zeus has no part ? Zeus — wisdom anterior ? No, maids, be admonished ! If morn's touch at base worked such wonders, much more Had noontide in absolute glory astonished Your den, filled a-top to o'erflowing. I pour No such mad confusion. 'T is Man's to explore Up and down, inch by inch, with the taper his reason : No torch, it suffices — held deftly and straight. Eyes, purblind at first, feel their way in due season, Accept good with bad, till unseemly debate Turns concord — despair, acquiescence in fate. Who works this but Zeus ? Are not instinct and impulse, Not concept and incept his work through Man's soul On Man's sense ? Just as wine ere it reach brain must brim pulse, Zeus' flash stings the mind that speeds body to goal, Bids pause at no part but press on, reach the whole. For petty and poor is the part ye envisage W nen (quaff away, cummers !) — ye view, last and first, As evil Man's earthly existence. Come ! Is age, Is infancy — manhood — so uninterspersed With good — some faint sprinkle ? 292 APOLLO AND THE FATES I 'd speak if I durst. CLOTHO. APOLLO. Draughts dregward loose tongue-tie. LACHESIS. Set eyes somehow winking. APOLLO. I 'd see, did no weh Drains-deep lies their purge — True collyrium ! ATEOPOS. Words, surging at high-tide, soon ebh From starved ears. APOLLO. Drink but down to the source, they resurge. Join hands ! Yours and yours too ! A dance or a dirge ? CHORUS. Quashed be our quarrel ! Sourly and smilingly, Bare and gowned, bleached limbs and browned, Drive we a dance, three and one, reconcilingly, Thanks to the cup where dissension is drowned, Defeat proves triumphant and slavery crowned. Infancy ? "What if the rose-streak of morning Pale and depart in a passion of tears ? Once to have hoped is no matter for scorning ! Love once — e'en love's disappointment endears ! A minute's success pays the failure of years. Manhood — the actual ? Nay, praise the potential ! (Bound upon bound, foot it around !) What is ? No, what may be — sing ! that 's Man's essential ! (Ramp, tramp, stamp and compound Fancy with fact — the lost secret is found !) Age ? Why, fear ends there : the contest concluded, Man did live his life, did escape from the fray : Not scratchless but unscathed, he somehow eluded Each blow fortune dealt him, and conquers to-day : To-morrow — new chance and fresh strength, — might we say ? Laud then Man's life — no defeat but a triumph ! [Explosion from the earth's centre. Ha, loose hands ! A PROLOGUE 29a CLOTHO. LACHESIS. I reel in a swound. ATKOPOS. Horror yawns under me, while from on high — humph ! Lightnings astound, thunders resound, Vault-roof reverberates, groans the ground ! [Silence. APOLLO. I acknowledge. THE FATES. Hence, trickster ! Straight sobered are we ! The portent assures 't was our tongue spoke the truth, Not thine. While the vapor encompassed us three We conceived and bore knowledge — a bantling uncouth, Old brains shudder back from : so — take it, rash youth ! Lick the lump into shape till a cry comes ! APOLLO. I hear. THE FATES. Dumb music, dead eloquence ! Say it, or sing ! What was quickened in us and thee also ? APOLLO. I fear. THE FATES. Half female, half male — go, ambiguous thing ! While we speak — perchance sputter — pick up what we fling ! Known yet ignored, nor divined nor unguessed, Such is Man's law of life. Do we strive to declare What is ill, what is good in our spinning ? Worst, best, Change hues of a sudden : now here and now there Flits the sign which decides : all about yet nowhere. 'T is willed so, — that Man's life be lived, first to last, Up and down, through and through — not in portions, for- sooth, To pick and to choose from. Our shuttles fly fast, Weave living, not life sole and whole : as age — youth, So death completes living, shows life in its truth. 294 APOLLO AND THE FATES Man learningly lives : till death helps him — no lore ! It is doom and must be. Dost submit ? APOLLO. I assent — Concede but Admetus ! So much if no more Of my prayer grant as peace-pledge ! Be gracious, though, blent, Good and ill, love and hate streak your life-gift ! THE FATES. Content ! Such boon we accord in due measure. Life's term We lengthen should any be moved for love's sake To forego life's fulfilment, renounce in the germ Fruit mature — bliss or woe — either infinite. Take Or leave thy friend's lot : on his head be the stake ! APOLLO. On mine, griesly gammers ! Admetus, I know thee ! Thou prizest the right these unwittingly give Thy subjects to rush, pay obedience they owe thee ! Importunate one with another they strive For the glory to die that their king may survive. Friends rush : and who first in all Pherae appears But thy father to serve as thy substitute ? CLOTHO. Bah! APOLLO. Ye wince ? Then his mother, well stricken in years. Advances her claim — or his wife — LACHESIS. Tra-la-la ! APOLLO. But he spurns the exchange, rather dies ! ATBOPOS. Ha, ha, ha! [Apollo ascends. Darkness. WITH BEENAED DE MANDEVILLE Ay, this same midnight, by this chair of mine, Come and review thy counsels : art thou still Staunch to their teaching ? — not as fools opine Its purport might be, but as subtler skill Could, through turbidity, the loaded line Of logic casting, sound deep, deeper, till It touched a quietude and reached a shrine And recognized harmoniously combine Evil with good, and hailed truth's triumph — thine, Sage dead long since, Bernard de Mandeville ! Only, 't is no fresh knowledge that I crave, Fuller truth yet, new gainings from the grave ; Here we alive must needs deal fairly, turn To what account Man may Man's portion, learn Man's proper play with truth in part, before Entrusted with the whole. I ask no more Than smiling witness that I do my best With doubtful doctrine : afterwards the rest ! So, silent face me while I think and speak ! A full disclosure ? Such would outrage law. Law deals the' same with soul and body : seek Full truth my soul may, when some babe, I saw A new-born weakling, starts up strong — not weak — Man every whit, absolved from earning awe, Pride, rapture, if the soul attains to wreak Its will on flesh, at last can thrust, lift, draw, As mind bids muscle — mind which long has striven, Painfully urging body's impotence To effort whereby — once law's barrier riven, Life's rule abolished — body might dispense With infancy's probation, straight-be given Not by foiled darings, fond attempts back-driven, Fine faults of growth, brave sins which saint when shriven ■ To stand full-statured in magnificence. 296 PARLEY1NGS WITH No : as with body so deals law with soul , That's stung to strength through weakness, strives for good Through evil, — earth its race-ground, heaven its goal, Presumably : so far I understood Thy teaching long ago. But what means this — Objected by a mouth which yesterday Was magisterial in antithesis To half the truths we hold, or trust we may, Though tremblingly the while ? " No sign " — groaned he — « " No stirring of God's finger to denote He wills that right should have supremacy On earth, not wrong ! How helpful could, we quote But one poor instance when He interposed Promptly and surely and beyond mistake Between oppression and its victim, closed Accounts with sin for once, and bade us wake From our long dream that justice bears no sword, Or else forgets whereto its sharpness serves ! So might we safely mock at what unnerves Faith now, be spared the sapping fear's increase That haply evil's strife with good shall cease Never on earth. Nay, after earth, comes peace Born out of life-long battle"? Man's lip curves With scorn : there, also, what if justice swerves From dealing doom, sets free by no swift stroke Right fettered here by wrong, but leaves life's yoke — Death should loose man from — fresh laid, past release ? " TV. Bernard de Mandeville, confute for me This parlous friend who captured or set free Thunderbolts at his pleasure, yet would draw Back, panic-stricken by some puny straw Thy gold-rimmed amber-headed cane had whisked Out of his pathway if the object risked Encounter, 'scaped thy kick from buckled shoe ! As when folk heard thee in old days pooh-pooh Addison's tye-wig preachment, grant this friend — (Whose groan I hear, with guffaugh at the end Disposing of mock-melancholy) — grant His bilious mood one potion, ministrant Of homely wisdom, healthy wit ! For, hear ! " With power and will, let preference appear By intervention ever and aye, help good BERNARD DE MANDEVILLE 297 When evil's mastery is understood In some plain outrage, and triumphant wrong Tramples weak right to nothingness : nay, long Ere such sad consummation brings despair To right's adherents, ah, what help it were If wrong lay strangled in the birth — each head Of the hatched monster promptly crushed, instead Of spared to gather venom ! We require No great experience that the inch-long worm, Free of our heel, would grow to vomit fire, And one day plague the world in dragon form. So should wrong merely peep abroad to meet Wrong's due quietus, leave our world's way safe For honest walking." Sage, once more repeat Instruction ! 'T is a sore to soothe not chafe. Ah, Fabulist, what luck, could I contrive To coax from thee another " Grumbling Hive " ! My friend himself wrote fables short and sweet : Ask him — " Suppose the Gardener of Man's ground Plants for a purpose, side by side with good, Evil — (and that He does so — look around ! What does the field show ? )» — were it understood That purposely the noxious plant was found Vexing the virtuous, poison close to food, If, at first stealing-f orth of life in stalk And leaflet-promise, quick His spud should balk Evil from budding foliage, bearing fruit ? Such timely treatment of the offending root Might strike the simple as wise husbandry, But swift sure extirpation scarce would suit Shrewder observers. Seed once sown thrives : why Frustrate its product, miss the quality Which sower binds himself to count upon ? Had seed fulfilled the destined purpose, gone Unhindered up to harvest — what know I But proof were gained that every growth of good Sprang consequent on evil's neighborhood ? " So said your shrewdness : true — so did not say That other sort of theorists who held Mere unintelligence prepared the way For either seed's upsprouting : you repelled Their notion that both kinds could sow themselves. True ! but admit 't is understanding delves 298 PARLE YJNGS WITH And drops each germ, what else but folly thwarts The doer's settled purpose ? Let the sage Concede a use to evil, though there starts Full many a burgeon thence, to disengage "With thumb and finger lest it spoil the yield Too much of good's main tribute ! But our main Tough-tendoned mandrake-monster — purge the field Of him for once and all ? It follows plain Who set him there to grow beholds repealed His primal law : His ordinance proves vain : And what beseems a king who cannot reign, But to drop sceptre valid arm should wield ? VI. i! Still there 's a parable " — retorts my friend — " Shows agriculture with a difference ! What of the crop and weeds which solely blend Because, once planted, none may pluck them thence ? The Gardener contrived thus ? Vain pretence ! An enemy it was who unawares Ruined the wheat by interspersing tares. Where "s our desiderated forethought ? Where 's Knowledge, where power and will in evidence ? 'T is Man's-play merely ! Craft foils rectitude, Malignity defeats beneficence. And grant, at very last of all, the feud 'Twixt good and evil ends, strange thoughts intrude Though good be garnered safely, and good's foe Bundled for burning. Thoughts steal : ' Even so — Why grant tares leave to thus o'er-top, o'ertower Their field-mate, boast the stalk and flaunt the flower, Triumph one sunny minute ? Knowledge, power, And will thus worked ? ' Man's fancy makes the fault ! Man, with the narrow mind, must cram inside His finite God's infinitude, — earth's vault He bids comprise the heavenly far and wide, Since Man may claim a right to understand What passes understanding. So, succinct And trimly set in order, to be scanned And scrutinized, lo — the divine lies linked Fast to the human, free to move as moves Its proper match : awhile they keep the grooves, Discreetly side by side together pace, Till sudden comes a stumble incident Likely enough to Man's weak-footed race, And he discovers — wings in rudiment, BERNARD DE MANDEVILLE * 299 Such as he boasts, which full-grown, free-distent Would lift him skyward, fail of flight while pent Within humanity's restricted space. Abjure each fond attempt to represent The formless, the illimitable ! Trace No outline, try no hint of human face Or form or hand ! " VII. Friend, here 's a tracing meant To help a guess at truth you never knew. Bend but those eyes now, using mind's eye too, And note — sufficient for all purposes — The ground-plan — map you long have yearned for — yes, Made out in markings — more what artist can ? — Goethe's Estate in Weimar, — just a plan ! A is the House, and B the Garden-gate, And C the Grass-plot — you 've the whole estate Letter by letter, down to Fthe Pond, And Z the Pig-stye. Do you look beyond The algebraic signs, and captious say " Is A the House ? But where 's the Roof to A, Where 's Door, where 's Window ? Needs must House have such ! " Ay, that were folly. Why so very much More foolish than our mortal purblind way Of seeking in the symbol no mere point To guide our gaze through what were else inane, But things — their solid selves ? " Is, joint by joint, Orion man-like, — as these dots explain His constellation ? Flesh composed of suns — How can such be ? " exclaim the simple ones. Look through the sign to the thing signified — Shown nowise, point by point at best, descried, Each an orb's topmost sparkle : all beside Its shine is shadow : turn the orb one jot — Up flies the new flash to reveal 't was not The whole sphere late flamboyant in your ken ! vrn. " What need of symbolizing ? Fitlier men Would take on tongue mere facts — few, faint and far, Still facts not fancies : quite enough they are, That Power, that Knowledge, and that Will, — add then Immensity, Eternity : these jar Nowise with our permitted thought and speech. Why human attributes ? " 300 * PARLEYINGS WITH A myth may teach : Only, who better would expound it thus Must be Euripides not iEschylus. rx. Boundingly up through Night's wall dense and dark, Embattled crags and clouds, out-broke the Sun Above the conscious earth, and one by one Her heights and depths absorbed to the last spark His fluid glory, from the far fine ridge Of mountain-granite which, transformed to gold, Laughed first the thanks back, to the vale's dusk fold On fold of vapor-swathing, like a bridge Shattered beneath some giant's stamp. Night wist Her work done and betook herself in mist To marsh and hollow, there to bide her time Blindly in acquiescence. Everywhere Did earth acknowledge Sun's embrace sublime, Thrilling her to the heart of things : since there No ore ran liquid, no spar branched anew, No arrowy crystal gleamed, but straightway grew Glad through the inrush — glad nor more nor less Than, 'neath his gaze, forest and wilderness, Hill, dale, land, sea, the whole vast stretch and spread, The universal world of creatures bred By Sun's munificence, alike gave praise — All creatures but one only : gaze for gaze, Joyless and thankless, who — all scowling can — Protests against the innumerous praises ? Man, Sullen and silent. Stand thou forth then, state Thy wrong, thou sole aggrieved — disconsolate — "While every beast, bird, reptile, insect, gay And glad acknowledges the bounteous day ! Man speaks now : " What avails Sun's earth-felt thrill To me ? Sun penetrates the ore, the plant — They feel and grow : perchance with subtler skill He interfuses fly, worm, brute, until Each favored object pays life's ministrant By pressing, in obedience to his will, Up to completion of the task prescribed, So stands and stays a type. Myself imbibed Such influence also, stood and stand complete — The perfect Man, — head, body, hands and feet, BERNARD DE MANDEVILLE 301 True to the pattern : but does that suffice ? How of my superadded mind which needs — Not to be, simply, but to do, and pleads For — more than knowledge that by some device Sun quickens matter : mind is nobly fain To realize the marvel, make — for sense As mind — the unseen visible, condense — Myself — Sun's all-pervading influence So as to serve the needs of mind, explain What now perplexes. Let the oak increase His corrugated strength on strength, the palm Lift joint by joint her fan-fruit, ball and balm, — Let the coiled serpent bask in bloated peace, — The eagle, like some skyey derelict, Drift in the blue, suspended, glorying, — The lion lord it by the desert-spring, — What know or care they of the power which pricked Nothingness to perfection ? I, instead, When all-developed still am found a thing All-incomplete : for what though flesh had force Transcending theirs — hands able to unring The tightened snake's coil, eyes that could outcourse The eagle's soaring, voice whereat the king Of carnage couched discrowned ? Mind seeks to see, Touch, understand, by mind inside of me, The outside mind — whose quickening I attain To recognize — I only. All in vain • Would mind address itself to render plain The nature of the essence. Drag what lurks Behind the operation — that which works Latently everywhere by outward proof — Drag that mind' forth to face mine ? No ! aloof I solely crave that one of all the beams Which do Sun's work in darkness, at my will Should operate — myself for once have skill To realize the energy which streams Flooding the universe. Above, around, Beneath — why mocks that mind my own thus found Simply of service, when the world grows dark, To half-surmise — were Sun's use understood, I might demonstrate him supplying food, Warmth, life, no less the while ? To grant one spark Myself may deal with — make it thaw my blood And prompt my steps, were truer to the mark Of mind's requirement than a half-surmise That somehow secretly is operant, 302 PARLEY1NGS WITH BE MANDEVILLE A power all matter feels, mind only tries To comprehend ! Once more — no idle vaunt ' Man comprehends the Sun's self ! ' Mysteries At source why prohe into ? Enough : display, Make demonstrable, how, by night as day, Earth's centre and sky's outspan, all 's informed Equally by Sun's efflux ! — source from whence If just one spark I drew, full evidence Were mine of fire ineffably enthroned — Sun's self made palpable to Man ! " XI. Thus moaned Man till Prometheus helped him, — as we learn, — Offered an artifice whereby he drew Sun's rays into a focus, — plain and true, The very Sun in little : made fire burn And henceforth do Man service — glass-conglobed Though to a pin-point circle — all the same Comprising the Sun's self, but Sun disrobed Of that else-unconceived essential flame Borne by no naked sight. Shall mind's eye strive Achingly to companion as it may The supersubtle effluence, and contrive To follow beam and beam upon their way Hand-breadth by hand-breadth, till sense faint — confessed Frustrate, eluded by unknown unguessed Infinitude of action ? Idle quest ! Rather ask aid from optics. Sense, descry The spectrum — mind, infer immensity ! Little ? In little, light, warmth, life are blessed — Which, in the large, who sees to bless ? Not I More than yourself : so, good my friend, keep still Trustful with — me ? with thee, sage Mandeville ! WITH DANIEL BAETOLI* i. Don, the divinest women that have walked Oar world were scarce those saints of whom we talked. My saint, for instance — worship if you will ! 'T is pity poets need historians' skill : What legendary 's worth a chronicle ? II. Come, now ! A great lord once upon a time Visited — oh a king, of kings the prime, To sign a treaty such as never was : For the king's minister had brought to pass That this same duke — so style him — must engage Two of his dukedoms as an heritage After his death to this exorbitant Craver of kingship. " Let who lacks go scant, Who owns much, give the more to ! " Why rebuke ? So bids the devil, so obeys the duke. m. Now, as it happened, at his sister's house — Duchess herself — indeed the very spouse Of the king's uncle, — while the deed of gift Whereby our duke should cut his rights adrift Was drawing, getting ripe to sign and seal — What does the frozen heart but uncongeal And, shaming his transcendent kin and kith, Whom do the duke's eyes make acquaintance with ? A girl. " What, sister, may this wonder be ? " " Nobody ! Good as beautiful is she, With gifts that match her goodness, no faint flaw * A learned and ingenious -writer. " Fu Gesuita e Storico della Compag'- nia ; onde scrisse lunghissime storie, le quali sarebbero lette se non f ossero ripiene traboccanti di tutte le superstizioni. . . . Egli vi ha ficcati dentro tanti miracoloni, che diviene unanoia insopportabile achiunque voglia lef- gere quelle storie : e anche a me, non mi basto 1' animo di proseguire molto avanti." — Angelo Cerutti. 304 PARLEYINGS WITH I' the white : she were the pearl you think you saw, But that she is — what corresponds to white ? Some other stone, the true pearl's opposite, As cheap as pearls are costly. She 's — now, guess Her parentage ! Once — twice — thrice ? Foiled, confess ! Drugs, duke, her father deals in — faugh, the scents ! — Manna and senna — such medicaments For payment he compounds you. Stay — stay — stay ! I '11 have no rude speech wrong her ! Whither away, The hot-head ? Ah, the scape-grace ! She deserves Respect — compassion, rather ! Right it serves My folly, trusting secrets to a fool ! Already at it, is he ? She keeps cool — Helped by her fan's spread. Well, our state atones For thus much license, and words break no bones ! " (Hearts, though, sometimes.) rv. Next morn 't was " Reason, rate. Rave, sister, on till doomsday ! Sure as fate, I wed that woman — . what a woman is Now that I know, who never knew till this ! " So swore the duke. " I wed her : once again — Rave, rate, and reason — spend your breath in vain ! " At once was made a contract firm and fast, Published the banns were, only marriage, last, Required completion when the Church's rite Should bless and bid depart, make happy quite The coupled man and wife forevermore : Which rite was soon to follow. Just before — All things at all but end — the folk o' the bride Flocked to a summons. Pomp the duke defied : " Of ceremony — so much as empowers, Nought that exceeds, suits best a tie like ours " — He smiled — " all else were mere futility. We vow, God hears us : God and you and I — Let the world keep at distance ! This is why We choose the simplest forms that serve to bind Lover and lover of the human kind, No care of what degree — of kings or clowns — Come blood and breeding. Courtly smiles and frowns Miss of their mark, would idly soothe or strike My style and yours — in one style merged alike — God's man and woman merely. Long ago DANIEL BARTOLI 305 'T was rounded in my ears ' Duke, wherefore slow To use a privilege ? Needs must one who reigns Pay reigning's due : since statecraft so ordains — Wed for. the commonweal's sake ! law prescribes One wife : but to submission license bribes Unruly nature : mistresses accept — Well, at discretion ! ' Prove I so inept A scholar, thus instructed ? Dearest, be Wife and all mistresses in one to me, Now, henceforth, and forever ! " So smiled he. Good : but the minister, the crafty one, Got ear of what was doing — all but done — Not sooner, though, than the king's very self, Warned by the sister on how sheer a shelf Royalty's ship was like to split. " I bar The abomination ! Mix with muck my star ? Shall earth behold prodigiously enorbed An upstart marsh-born meteor sun-absorbed ? Nuptial me no such nuptials ! " " Past dispute, Majesty speaks with wisdom absolute," Admired the minister : " yet, all the same, I would we may not — while we play his game, The ducal meteor's — also lose our own, The solar monarch's : we relieve your throne Of an ungracious presence, like enough : Balked of his project he departs in huff, And so cuts short — dare I remind the king ? — Our not so unsuccessful bargaining. . The contract for eventual heritage Happens to pari passu reach the stage Attained by just this other contract, — each Unfixed by signature though fast in speech. Off goes the duke in dudgeon — off withal Go with him his two dukedoms past recall. You save a fool from tasting folly's fruit, Obtain small thanks thereby, and lose to boot Sagacity's reward. The jest is grim : The man will mulct you — for amercing him ? Nay, for . . . permit a poor similitude ! A witless wight in some fantastic mood Would drown himself : you plunge into the wave, Pluck forth the undeserving : he, you save, Pulls you clean under also for your pains. Sire, little need that I should tax my brains 306 PARLEYINGS WITH To help your inspiration ! " " Let him sink ! Always contriving " — hints the royal wink — " To keep ourselves dry while we claim his clothes." VII. Next day, the appointed day for plighting troths At eve, — so little time to lose, you see, Before the Church should weld indissoluhly Bond into bond, wed these who, side by side, Sit each by other, bold groom, blushing bride, — At the preliminary banquet, graced By all the lady's kinsfolk come in haste To share her triumph, — lo, a thunderclap ! " Who importunes now ? " " Such is my mishap — In the king's name ! No need that any stir Except this lady ! " bids the minister : " With her I claim a word apart, no more : For who gainsays — a guard is at the door. Hold, duke ! Submit you, lady, as I bow To him whose mouthpiece speaks his pleasure now ! It well may happen I no whit arrest Your marriage : be it so, — we hope the best ! By your leave, gentles ! Lady, pray you, hence ! Duke, with my soul and body's deference ! " VIII. Doors shut, mouth opens and persuasion flows Copiously forth. " What flesh shall dare oppose The king's command ? The matter in debate — How plain it is ! Yourself shall arbitrate, Determine. Since the duke affects to rate His prize in you beyond all goods of earth, Accounts as nought old gains of rank and birth, Ancestral obligation, recent fame, (We know his feats) — nay, ventures to disclaim Our will and pleasure almost — by report — Waives in your favor dukeliness, in short, — We — ('t is the king speaks) — who might forthwith stay Such suicidal purpose, brush away A bad example shame would else record, — Lean to indulgence rather. At his word We take the duke : allow him to complete The cession of his dukedoms, leave our feet Their footstool when his own head, safe in vault. Sleeps sound. Nay, would the duke repair his fault Handsomely, and our forfeited esteem DANIEL BARTOLI 307 Recover, — what if wisely he redeem The past, — in earnest of good faith, at once Give us such jurisdiction for the nonce As may suffice — prevent occasion slip — And constitute our actual ownership ? Concede this — straightway he the marriage blessed By warrant of this paper ! Things at rest, This paper duly signed, down drops the bar, To-morrow you become — from what you are, The druggist's daughter — not the duke's mere spouse, But the king's own adopted : heart and house Open to you — the idol of a court ' Which heaven might copy ' — sing our poet-sort. In this emergency, on you depends The issue : plead what bliss the king intends ! Should the duke frown, should arguments and prayers, Nay, tears if need be, prove in vain, — who cares ? We leave the duke to his obduracy, Companionless, — you, madam, follow me Without, where divers of the body-guard Wait signal to enforce the king's award Of strict seclusion : over you at least Vibratingly the sceptre threats increased Precipitation ! How avert its crash ? " " Re-enter, sir ! A hand that 's calm, not rash, Averts it ! " quietly the lady said. " Yourself shall witness." At the table's head Where, mid the hushed guests, still the duke sat glued In blank bewilderment, his spouse pursued Her speech to end — syllabled quietude. " Duke, I, your duchess of a day, could take The hand you proffered me for love's sole sake, Conscious my love matched yours ; as you, myself Would waive, when need were, all but love — from pelf To potency. What fortune brings about Haply in some far future, finds me out, Faces me on a sudden here and now. The better ! Read — if beating heart allow — Read this, and bid me rend to rags the shame ! I and your conscience — hear and grant our claim ! Never dare alienate God's gift you hold 308 PARLEYINGS WITH Simply in trust for Him ! Choose muck for gold ? Could you so stumble in your choice, cajoled By what I count my least of worthiness — The youth, the beauty, — you renounce them — yes, With all that 's most too : love as well you lose, Slain by what slays in you the honor ! Choose ! Dear — yet my husband — dare I love you yet ? " How the duke's wrath o'erboiled, — words, words, and More words, — I spare you such fool's fever-fret. They were not of one sort at all, one size, As souls go — he and she. 'Tis said, the eyes Of all the lookers-on let tears fall fast. The minister was mollified at last : " Take a day, — two days even, ere through pride You perish, — two days' counsel — then decide ! " XII. " If I shall save his honor and my soul ? Husband, — this one last time, — you tear the scroll ? Farewell, duke ! Sir, I follow in your train ! " So she went forth : they never met again, The duke and she. The world paid compliment (Is it worth noting ?) when, next day, she sent Certain gifts back — " jewelry fit to deck Whom you call wife." I know not round what neck They took to sparkling, in good time — weeks thence. Of all which was the pleasant consequence, So much and no more — that a fervid youth, Big-hearted boy, — but ten years old, in truth, — Laid this to heart and loved, as boyhood can, The unduchessed lady : boy and lad grew man : He loved as man perchance may : did meanwhile Good soldier-service, managed to beguile The years, no few, until he found a chance : Then, as at trumpet-summons to advance, Outbroke the love that stood at arms so long, Brooked no withstanding longer. They were wed. Whereon from camp and court alike he fled, Renounced the sun-king, dropped off into night, Evermore lost, a ruined satellite : DANIEL BARTOLI 309 And, oh, the exquisite deliciousness That lapped him in obscurity ! You guess Such joy is fugitive : she died full soon. He did his best to die — as sun, so moon Left him, turned dusk to darkness absolute. Failing of death — why, saintship seemed to suit : Yes, your sort, Don ! He trembled on the verge Of monkhood : trick of cowl and taste of scourge He tried : then, kicked not at the pricks perverse, But took again, for better or for worse, The old way in the world, and, much the same Man o' the outside, fairly played life's game. " Now, Saint Scholastica, what time she fared In Paynimrie, behold, a lion glared Right in her path ! Her waist she promptly strips Of girdle, binds his teeth within his lips, And, leashed all lamblike, to the Soldan's court Leads him." Ay, many a legend of the sort Do you praiseworthily authenticate : Spare me the rest. This much of no debate Admits : my lady flourished in grand days When to be duchess was to dance the hays Up, down, across the heaven amid its host : While to be hailed the sun's own self almost — So close the kinship — was — was — Saint, for this, Be yours the feet I stoop to — kneel and kiss ! So human ? Then the mouth too, if you will ! Thanks to no legend but a chronicle. One leans to like the duke, too : up we '11 patch Some sort of saintship for him — not to match Hers — but man's best and woman's worst amount So nearly to the same thing, that we count In man a miracle of faithfulness If, while unfaithful somewhat, he lay stress On the main fact that love, when love indeed, Is wholly solely love from first to last — Truth — all the rest a lie. Too likely, fast Enough that necklace went to grace the throat — Let 's say, of such a dancer as makes doat The senses when the soul is satisfied — Trogalia, say the Greeks — a sweetmeat tried 310 PARLEYINOS WITH Approvingly by sated tongue and teeth, Once body's proper meal consigned beneath Such unconsidered munching. xvn. Fancy's flight Makes me a listener when, some sleepless night, The duke reviewed his memories, and aghast Found that the Present intercepts the Past With such effect as when a cloud enwraps The moon and, moon-suffused, plays moon perhaps To who walks under, till comes, late or soon, A stumble : up he looks, and lo, the moon Calm, clear, convincingly herself once more ! How could he 'scape the cloud that thrust between Him and effulgence ? Speak, fool — duke, I mean ! " Who bade you come, brisk-marching bold she-shape, A terror with those black-balled worlds of eyes, That black hair bristling solid-built from nape To crown it coils about ? O dread surmise ! Take, tread on, trample under past escape Your capture, spoil and trophy ! -- Do — devise Insults for one who, fallen once, ne'er shall rise ! " Mock on, triumphant o'er the prostrate shame ! Laugh ' Here lies he among the false to Love — Love's loyal liegeman once : the very same Who, scorning his weak fellows, towered above Inconstancy : yet why his faith defame ? Our eagle's victor was at least no dove, No dwarfish knight picked up our giant's glove — " ' When, putting prowess to the proof, faith urged Her champion to the challenge : had it chanced That merely virtue, wisdom, beauty — merged All in one woman — merely these advanced Their claim to conquest, — hardly had he purged His mind of memories, dearnesses enhanced Rather than harmed by death, nor, disentranced, " ' Promptly had he abjured the old pretence To prove his kind's superior — first to last Display erect on his heart's eminence An altar to the never-dying Past. DANIEL BARTOLI 3H ,For such feat faith might boast fit play of fence And easily disarm the iconoclast Called virtue, wisdom, beauty : impudence " ' Fought in their stead, and how could faith but fall ? There came a bold she-shape brisk-marching, bent No inch of her imperious stature, tall As some war-engine from whose top was sent One shattering volley out of eye's black ball, And prone lay faith's defender ! ' Moekery spent ? Malice discharged in full ? In that event, " My queenly impudence, I cover close, I wrap me round with love of your black hair, Black eyes, black every wicked inch of those Limbs' war-tower tallness : so much truth lives there 'Neath the dead heap of lies. And yet — who knows ? What if such things are ? No less, such things were. Then was the man your match whom now you dare " Treat as existent still. A second truth ! They held — this heap of lies you rightly scorn — A man who had approved himself in youth More than a match for — you ? for" sea-foam-born Venus herself : you conquer him forsooth ? 'T is me his ghost : he died since left and lorn, As needs must Samson when his hair is shorn. " Some day, and soon, be sure himself will rise, Called into life by her who long ago Left his soul whiling time in flesh-disguise. Ghosts tired of waiting can play tricks, you know ! Tread, trample me — such sport we ghosts devise, Waiting the morn-star's reappearance — though You think we vanish scared by the cock's crow." WITH CHRISTOPHER SMART It seems as if ... or did the actual chance Startle me and perplex ? Let truth be said ! How might this happen ? Dreaming, blindfold led By visionary hand, did soul's advance Precede my body's, gain inheritance Of fact by fancy — so that when I read At length with waking eyes your Song, instead Of mere bewilderment, with me first glance "Was but full recognition that in trance Or merely thought's adventure some old day Of dim and done-with boyishness, or — well, Why might it not have been, the miracle Broke on me as I took my sober way Through veritable regions of our earth And made discovery, many a wondrous one ? n. Anyhow, fact or fancy, such its birth : I was exploring some huge house, had gone Through room and room complacently, no dearth Anywhere of the signs of decent taste, Adequate culture : wealth had run to waste Nowise, nor penury was proved by stint : All showed the Golden Mean without a hint Of brave extravagance that breaks the rule. The master of the mansion was no fool Assuredly, no genius just as sure ! Safe mediocrity had scorned the lure Of now too much and now too little cost, And satisfied me sight was never lost Of moderate design's accomplishment In calm completeness. On and on I went With no more hope than fear of what came next, Till lo, I push a door, sudden uplift A hanging, enter, chance upon a shift Indeed of scene ! So — thus it is thou deck'st, High heaven, our low earth's brick-and-mortar work ? rAKM,JiriJ\Uii WITH CHRISTOPHER SMART 313 III. It was the Chapel. That a star, from murk Which hid, should flashingly emerge at last, Were small surprise : but from broad day I passed Into a presence that turned shine to shade. There fronted me the Rafael Mother-Maid, Never to whom knelt votarist in shrine By Nature's bounty helped, by Art's divine More varied — beauty with magnificence — Than this : from floor to roof one evidence Of how far earth may rival heaven. No niche Where glory was not prisoned to enrich Man's gaze with gold and gems, no space but glowed With color, gleamed with carving — hues which owed Their outburst to a brush the painter fed With rainbow-substance — rare shapes never wed To actual flesh and blood, which, brain-born once, Became the sculptor's dowry, Art's response To earth's despair. And all seemed old yet new: Youth, — in the marble's curve, the canvas' hue, Apparent, — wanted not the crowning thrill Of age the consecrator. Hands long still Had worked here — could it be, what lent them skill Retained a power to supervise, protect, Enforce new lessons with the old, connect Our life with theirs ? No merely modern touch Told me that here the artist, doing much, Elsewhere did more, perchance does better, lives — So needs must learn. IT. Well, these provocatives Having fulfilled their office, forth I went Big with anticipation — well-nigh fear — Of what next room and next for startled eyes Might have in store, surprise beyond surprise. Next room and next and next — what followed here ? Why, nothing ! not one object to arrest My passage — everywhere too manifest The previous decent null and void of best And worst, mere ordinary right and fit, Calm commonplace which neither missed, nor hit Inch-high, inch-low, the placid mark proposed. v. Armed with this instance, have I diagnosed 314 PARLE YINGS WITH Your case, my Christopher ? The man was sound And sane at starting : all at once the ground Gave way beneath his step, a certain smoke Curled up and caught him, or perhaps down broke A fireball wrapping flesh and spirit both In conflagration. Then — as heaven were loth To linger — let earth understand too well How heaven at need can operate — off fell The flame-robe, and the untransfigured man Resumed sobriety, — as he began, So did he end nor alter pace, not he ! VI. Now, what I fain would know is — could it be That he — whoe'er he was that furnished forth The Chapel, making thus, from South to North, Rafael touch Leighton, Michelagnolo Join "Watts, was found but once combining so The elder and the younger, taking stand On Art's supreme, — or that yourself who sang A Song where flute-breath silvers trumpet-clang, And stations you for once on either hand With Milton and with Keats, empowered to claim Affinity on just one point — (or blame Or praise my judgment, thus it fronts you full) — How came it you resume the void and null, Subside to insignificance, — live, die — Proved plainly two mere mortals who drew nigh One moment — that, to Art's best hierarchy, This, to the superhuman poet-pair ? What if, in one point only, then and there The otherwise all-unapproachable Allowed impingement ? Does the sphere pretend To span the cube's breadth, cover end to end The plane with its embrace ? No, surely ! Still, Contact is contact, sphere's touch no whit less Than cube's superimposure. Such success Befell Smart only out of throngs between Milton and Keats that donned the singing-dress — Smart, solely of such songmen, pierced the screen 'Twixt thing and word, lit language straight from soul, - Left no fine film-flake on the naked coal Live from the censer — shapely or uncouth, Fire-sufiused through and through, one blaze of truth Undeadened by a lie, — (you have my mind) — For, think ! this blaze outleapt with black behind CHRISTOPHER SMART 315 And blank before, when Hayley and the rest . . . But let the dead successors worst and best Bury their dead : with life be my concern — Yours with the fire-flame : what I fain would learn Is just — (suppose me haply ignorant Down to the common knowledge, doctors vaunt) Just this — why only once the fire-flame was : No matter if the marvel came to pass The way folk judged — if power too long suppressed Broke loose and maddened, as the vulgar guessed, Or simply brain-disorder (doctors said), A turmoil of the particles disturbed, Brain's workaday performance in your head, Spurred spirit to wild action health had curbed, And so verse issued in a cataract "Whence prose, before and after, unperturbed Was wont to wend its way. Concede the fact That here a poet was who always could — Never before did — never after would — Achieve the feat : how were such fact explained ? vn. Was it that when, by rarest chance, there fell Disguise from Nature, so that Truth remained Naked, and whoso saw for once could tell Us others of her majesty and might In large, her lovelinesses infinite In little, — straight you used the power wherewith Sense, penetrating as through rind to pith Each object, thoroughly revealed might view And comprehend the old things thus made new, So that while eye saw, soul to tongue could trust Thing which struck word out, and once more adjust Real vision to right language, till heaven's vault Pompous with sunset, storm-stirred sea's assault On the swilled rock-ridge, earth's embosomed brood Of tree and flower and weed, with all the life That flies or swims or crawls, in peace or strife, Above, below, — each had its note and name For Man to know by, — Man who, now — the same As erst in Eden, needs that all he sees Be named him ere he note by what degrees Of strength and beauty to its end Design Ever thus operates — (your thought and mine, No matter for the many dissident) — So did you sing your Song, so truth found vent In words for once with you ? 316 PARLEYINGS WITH VIII. Then — back was furled The robe thus thrown aside, and straight the world Darkened into the old oft-catalogued Repository of things that sky, wave, land, Or show or hide, clear late, accretion-clogged Now, just as long ago, by tellings and Retellings to satiety, which strike Muffled upon the ear's drum. Very like None was so startled as yourself when friends Came, hailed your fast-returning wits : " Health mends Importantly, for — to be plain with you — This scribble on the wall was done — in lieu Of pen and paper — with — ha, ha ! — your key Denting it on the wainscot ! Do you see How wise our caution was ? Thus much we stopped Of babble that had else grown print : and lopped From your trim bay-tree this unsightly bough — Smart's who translated Horace ! Write us now "... "Why, what Smart did write — never afterward One line to show that he, who paced the sward, Had reached the zenith from his madhouse cell. IX. Was it because you judged (I know full well You never had the fancy) — judged — as some — That who makes poetry must reproduce Thus ever and thus only, as they come, Each strength, each beauty, everywhere diffuse Throughout creation, so that eye and ear, Seeing and hearing, straight shall recognize, • At touch of just a trait, the strength appear, — Suggested by a line's lapse see arise All evident the beauty, — fresh surprise Startling at fresh achievement ? " So, indeed, Wallows the whale's bulk in the waste of brine, Nor otherwise its feather-tufts make fine Wild Virgin's Bower when stars faint off to seed I !; (My prose — your poetry I dare not give, Purpling too much my mere gray argument.) — Was it because you judged — when fugitive Was glory found, and wholly gone and spent Such power of startling up deaf ear, blind eye, At truth's appearance, — that you humbly bent The head and, bidding vivid work good-by, CHRISTOPHER SMART 317 Doffed lyric dress and trod the world once more A drab-clothed decent proseman as before ? Strengths, beauties, by one word's flash thus laid bare — That was effectual service : made aware Of strengths and beauties, Man but hears the text, Awaits your teaching. Nature ? What comes next ? Why all the strength and beauty ? — to be shown Thus in one word's flash, thenceforth let alone By Man who needs must deal with aught that 's known Never so lately and so little ? Friend, First give us knowledge, then appoint its use ! Strength, beauty are the means : ignore their end ? As well you stopped at proving how profuse Stones, sticks, nay stubble lie to left and right Ready to help the builder, — careless quite If he should take, or leave the same to strew Earth idly, — as by word's flash bring in view Strength, beauty, then bid who beholds the same Go on beholding. Why gains unemployed ? Nature was made to be by Man enjoyed First ; followed duly by enjoyment's fruit, Instruction — haply leaving joy behind : And you, the instructor, would you slack pursuit Of the main prize, as poet help mankind Just to enjoy, there leave them? Play the fool, Abjuring a superior privilege ? Please simply when your function is to rule — By thought incite to deed ? From edge to edge Of earth's round, strength and beauty everywhere Pullulate — and must you particularize All, each and every apparition ? Spare Yourself and us the trouble ! Ears and eyes Want so much strength and beauty, and no less Nor more, to learn life's lesson by. Oh, yes — The other method 's favored in our day ! The end ere the beginning : as you may Master the heavens before you study earth, Make you familiar with the meteor's birth Ere you descend to scrutinize the rose ! I say, o'erstep no least one of the rows That lead man from the bottom where he plants Foot first of all, to life's last ladder-top : Arrived there, vain enough will seem the vaunts Of those who say — " We scale the skies, then drop To earth — to find, how all things there are loth To answer heavenly law : we understand 318 PARLEYINGS WITH CHRISTOPHER SMART The meteor's course, and lo, the rose's growth — How other than should be" by law's command ! " Would not you tell such — " Friends, beware lest fume OfBuscate sense : learn earth first ere presume To teach heaven legislation. Law must be Active in earth or nowhere : earth you see, — Or there or not at all, Will, Power and Love Admit discovery, — as below, above Seek next law's confirmation ! But reverse The order, where 's the wonder things grow worse Than, by the law your fancy formulates, They should be ? Cease from anger at the fates Which thwart themselves so madly. Live and learn, Not first learn and then live, is our concern. WITH GEOEGE BUBB DODINGTON Ah, George Bubb Dodington Lord Melcombe, — no, Yours was the wrong way ! — always understand, Supposing that permissibly you planned How statesmanship — your trade — in outward show Might figure as inspired by simple zeal For serving country, king and commonweal, (Though service tire to death the body, tease The soul from out an o'ertasked patriot-drudge) And yet should prove zeal's outward show agrees In all respects — right reason being judge — With inward care that, while the statesman spends Body and soul thus freely for the sake Of public good, his private welfare take No harm by such devotedness. Intends Scripture aught else — let captious folk enquire — "Which teaches " Laborers deserve their hire, And who neglects his household bears the bell Away of sinning from an infidel " ? Wiselier would fools that carp bestow a thought How birds build nests ; at outside, roughly wrought, Twig knots with twig, loam plasters up each chink, Leaving the inmate rudely lodged — you think ? Peep but inside ! That specious rude-and-rough Covers a domicile where downy fluff Embeds the ease-deserving architect, Who toiled and moiled not merely to effect 'Twixt sprig and spray a stop-gap in the teeth Of wind and weather, guard what swung beneath From upset only, but contrived himself A snug interior, warm and soft and sleek. Of what material ? Oh, for that, you seek How nature prompts each volatile ! Thus — pelf Smoothens the human mudlark's lodging, power Demands some hardier wrappage to embrace Robuster heart-beats : rock, not tree nor tower, 320 PARLE YINGS WITH Contents the building eagle : rook shoves close To brother rook on branch, while crow morose Apart keeps balance perched on topmost bough. No sort of bird but suits his taste somehow : Nay, Darwin tells of such as love the bower — His bower-birds opportunely yield us yet The lacking instance when at loss to get A feathered parallel to what we find The secret motor of some mighty mind That worked such wonders — all for vanity ? Worked them to haply figure in the eye Of intimates as first of — doers' kind ? Actors', that work in earnest sportively, Paid by a sourish smile. How says the Sage ? Birds born to strut prepare a platform-stage With sparkling stones and speckled shells, all sorts Of slimy rubbish, odds and ends and orts, Whereon to pose and posture and engage The priceless female simper. ii. I have gone Thus into detail, George Bubb Dodington, Lest, when I take you presently to task For the wrong way of working, you should ask " What fool conjectures that profession means Performance ? that who goes behind the scenes Finds, — acting over, — still the soot-stuff screens Othello's visage, still the self-same cloak's Bugle-bright-blackness half reveals half chokes Hamlet's emotion, as ten minutes since ? No, each resumes his garb, stands — Moor or prince — Decently draped : just so with statesmanship ! All outside show, in short, is sham — why wince ? Concede me — while our parley lasts ! You trip Afterwards — lay but this to heart ! (there lurks Somewhere in all of us a lump which irks Somewhat the spriteliest-scheming brain that 's bent On brave adventure, would but heart consent !) — Here trip you, that — your aim allowed as right — Your means thereto were wrong. Come, we, this night, Profess one purpose, hold one principle, Are at odds only as to — not the will But way of winning solace for ourselves — No matter if the ore for which zeal delves Be gold or coprolite, while zeal's pretence GEORGE BUBB D0D1NGT0N 321 Is — we do good to men at — whose expense But ours ? who tire the body, tease the soul, Simply that, running, we may reach fame's goal And wreathe at last our brows with bay — the State's Disinterested slaves, nay — please the Fates — Saviors and nothing less : such lot has been ! Statesmanship triumphs pedestalled, serene, — O happy consummation ! — brought about By managing with skill the rabble-rout For which we labor (never mind the name — People or populace, for praise or blame) Making them understand — their heaven, their hell, Their every hope and fear is ours as well. Man's cause — what other can we have at heart ? Whence follows that the necessary part High o'er Man's head we play, — and freelier breathe Just that the multitude which gasps beneath May reach the level where unstifled stand Ourselves at vantage to put forth a hand, Assist the prostrate public. 'T is by right Merely of such pretence, we reach the height Where storms abound, to brave — nay, court their stress, Though all too well aware — of pomp the less, Of peace the more ! But who are we, to spurn For peace' sake, duty's pointing ? Up, then — earn Albeit no prize we may but martyrdom ! Now, such fit height to launch salvation from, How get and gain ? Since help must needs be craved By would-be saviors of the else-unsaved, How coax them to co-operate, lend a lift, Kneel down and let us mount ? You say " Make shift By sham — the harsh word : preach and teach, persuade Somehow the Public — not despising aid Of salutary artifice — we seek Solely their* good : our strength would raise the weak, Our cultivated knowledge supplement Their rudeness, rawness : why to us were leut Ability except to come in use ? Who loves his kind must by all means induce That kind to let his love play freely, press In Man's behalf to full performance ! " 322 PARLE TINGS WITH Yes — Tes, George, we know ! — whereat they hear, believe* And bend the knee, and on the neck receive Who fawned and cringed to purpose ? Not so, George ! Try simple falsehood on shrewd folk who forge Lies of superior fashion day by day And hour by hour ? With craftsmen versed as they What chance of competition when the tools Only a novice wields ? Are knaves such fools ? Disinterested patriots, spare your tongue The tones thrice-silvery, cheek save smiles it flung Pearl-like profuse to swine — a herd, whereof No unit needs be taught, his neighbor's trough Scarce holds for who but grunts and whines the husks Due to a wrinkled snout that shows sharp tusks. No animal — much less our lordly Man — Obeys its like : with strength all rule began, The stoutest awes the pasture. Soon succeeds Discrimination, — nicer power Man needs To rule him than is bred of bone and thew : Intelligence must move strength's self. This too Lasts but its time : the multitude at length Looks inside for intelligence and strength And finds them here and there to pick and choose : " All at your service, mine, see ! " Ay, but who's My George, at this late day, to make his boast " In strength, intelligence, I rule the roast, Beat, all and some, the ungraced who crowd your ranks ? " " Oh, but I love, would lead you, gain your thanks By unexampled yearning for Man's sake — Passion that solely waits your help to take Effect in action ! " George, which one of us But holds with his own heart communion thus : " I am, if not of men the first and best, Still — to receive enjoyment — properest : Which since by force I cannot, nor by wit Most likely — craft must serve in place of it. Flatter, cajole ! If so I bring within My net the gains which wit and force should win, What hinders ? " 'T is a trick we know of old : Try, George, some other of tricks manifold ! The multitude means mass and mixture — right ! Are mixtures simple, pray, or composite ? Dive into Man, your medley : see the waste ! GEORGE BUBB DODINGTON 323 Sloth-stifled genius, energy disgraced By ignorance, high aims with sorry skill, Will without means and means in want of will — Sure we might fish, from out the mothers' sons That welter thus, a dozen Dodingtons !• Why call up Dodington, and none beside, To take his seat upon our backs and ride As statesman conquering and to conquer ? Well, The last expedient, which must needs excel Those old ones — this it is, — at any rate To-day's conception thus I formulate : As simple force has been replaced, just so Must simple wit be : men have got to know Such wit as what you boast is nowise held The wonder once it was, but, paralleled Too plentifully, counts not, — puts to shame Modest possessors like yourself who claim, By virtue of it merely, power and place — Which means the sweets of office. Since our race Teems with the like of you, some special gift, Your very own, must coax our hands to lift, And backs to bear you : is it just and right To privilege your nature ? " State things quite Other than so" — make answer ! " I pretend No such community with men. Perpend My key to domination ! Who would use Man for his pleasure needs must introduce The element that awes Man. Once for all, His nature owns a Supernatural In fact as well as phrase — which found must be — Where, in this doubting age ? Old mystery Has served its turn — seen through and sent adrift To nothingness : new wizard-craft makes shift Nowadays shorn of help by robe and book, — Otherwise, elsewhere, for success must look Than chalked-ring, incantation-gibberish. Somebody comes to conjure : that 's he ? Pish ! He 's like the roomful of rapt gazers, — there 's No sort of difference in the garb he wears From ordinary dressing, — gesture, speech, Deportment, just like those of all and each That eye their master of the minute. Stay ! What of the something — call it how you may — • 324 PA RLE TINGS WITH Uncanny in the — quack ? That 's easy said ! Notice how the Professor turns no head And yet takes cognizance of who accepts, Denies, is puzzled as to the adept's Supremacy, yields up or lies in wait To trap the trickster ! Doubtless, out of date Are dealings with the devil : yet, the stir Of mouth, its smile half smug half sinister, Mock-modest boldness masked in diffidence, — What if the man have — who knows how or whence ? — Confederate potency unguessed by us — Prove no such cheat as he pretends ? " VI. Ay, thus Had hut my George played statesmanship's new card That carries all ! " Since we " — avers the Bard — " All of us have one human heart " — as good As say — by all of us is understood Right and wrong, true and false — in rough, at least, We own a common conscience. God, man, beast — How should we qualify the statesman-shape I fancy standing with our world agape ? Disguise, flee, fight against with tooth and nail The outrageous designation ! " Quack " men quail Before ? You see, a little year ago They heard him thunder at the thing which, lo, To-day he vaunts for unscathed, while what erst Heaven-high he lauded, lies hell-low, accursed ! , And yet where 's change ? Who. awe-struck, cares to point Critical finger at a dubious joint In armor, true ces triplex, breast and back Binding about, defiant of attack, An imperturbability that 's — well, Or innocence or impudence — how tell One from the other ? Could ourselves broach lies, Yet brave mankind with those unaltered eyes, Those lips that keep the quietude of truth ? Dare we attempt the like ? What quick uncouth Disturbance of thy smug economy, O coward visage ! Straight would all descry Back on the man's brow the boy's blush once more ! No : he goes deeper — could our sense explore — Finds conscience beneath conscience such as ours. Genius is not so rare, — prodigious powers — Well, others boast such, — but a power like this GEORGE BUBB D0D1NGT0N 325 Mendacious intrepidity — quid vis ? Besides, imposture plays another game, Admits of no diversion from its aim Of captivating hearts, sets zeal aflare In every shape at every turn, — nowhere Allows subsidence into ash. By stress Of what does guile succeed but earnestness, Earnest word, look and gesture ? Touched with aught But earnestness, the levity were fraught "With ruin to guile's film-work. Grave is guile ; Here no act wants its qualifying smile, Its covert pleasantry to neutralize The outward ardor. Can our chief despise Even while most he seems to adulate ? As who should say " What though it be my fate To deal with fools ? Among the crowd must lurk Some few with faculty to judge my work Spite of its way which suits, they understand, The crass majority : — the Sacred Band, No duping them forsooth ! " So tells a touch Of subintelligential nod and wink — Turning foes friends. Coarse flattery moves the gorge : Mine were the mode to awe the many, George ! They guess you half despise them while most bent On demonstrating that your sole intent Strives for their service. Sneer at them ? Yourself T is you disparage, — tricksy as an elf, Scorning what most you strain to bring to pass, Laughingly careless, — triply cased in brass, — While pushing strenuous to the end in view. What follows ? Why, you formulate within The vulgar headpiece this conception : " "Win A master-mind to serve us needs we must, One who, from motives we but take on trust, Acts strangelier — haply wiselier than we know — Stronglier, for certain. Did he say ' I throw Aside my good for yours, in all I do Care nothing for myself and all for you ' — We should both understand and disbelieve : Said he ' Your good 1 laugh at in my sleeve, My own it is I solely labor at, Pretending yours the while ' — that, even that, We, understanding well, give credence to, And so will none of it. But here 't is through Our recognition of his service, wage Well earned by work, he mounts to such a stage 326 PARLEYING S WITH Above competitors as all save Bubb Would agonize to keep. Yet — here 's the rub — So slightly does he hold by our esteem Which solely fixed him fast there, that we seem Mocked every minute to our face, by gibe And jest — scorn insuppressive : what ascribe The rashness to ? Our pay and praise to boot — Do these avail him to tread underfoot Something inside us all and each, that stands Somehow instead of somewhat which commands ' Lie not ' ? Folk fear to jeopardize their soul, Stumble at times, walk straight upon the whole, — That 's nature's simple instinct : what may be The portent here, the influence such as we Are strangers to ? " — Exact the thing I call Man's despot, just the Supernatural Which, George, was wholly out of — far beyond Your theory and practice. You had conned But to reject the precept " To succeed In gratifying selfishness and greed, Asseverate such qualities exist Nowise within yourself ! then make acquist By all means, with no sort of fear ! " Alack, That well-worn lie is obsolete ! Fall back On still a working pretext — " Hearth and Home, The Altar, love of England, hate of Rome " — That 's serviceable lying — that perchance Had screened you decently : but 'ware advance By one step more in perspicacity Of these our dupes ! At length they get to see As through the earlier, this the latter plea — And find the greed and selfishness at source ! Ventum est ad triarios : last resource Should be to what but — exquisite disguise Disguise-abjuring, truth that looks like lies, Frankness so sure to meet with unbelief ? Say — you hold in contempt — not them in chief — But first and foremost your own self ! No use In men but to make sport for you, induce The puppets now to dance, now stand stock-still, Now knock their heads together, at your will For will's sake only — while each plays his part Submissive : why ? through terror at the heart : GEORGE BUBB D0D1NGT0N 327 " Can it be — this bold man, whose hand we saw Openly pull the wires, obeys some law Quite above Man's — nay, God's ? " On face fall they. This was the secret missed, again I say, Out of your power to grasp conception of, Much less employ to purpose. Hence the scoff That greets your very name : folks see but one Fool more, as well as knave, in Dodington. WITH FRANCIS FURINI Nat, that, Furini, never I at least Mean to believe ! What man you were I know, While you walked Tuscan earth, a painter-priest, Something about two hundred years ago. Priest — you did duty punctual as the sun That rose and set above Saint Sano's church, Blessing Mugello : of your flock not one But showed a whiter fleece because of smirch, Your kind hands wiped it clear from : were they poor ? Bounty broke bread apace, — did marriage lag For just the want of moneys that ensure Fit hearth-and-home provision ? — straight your bag Unplumped itself, — reached hearts by way of palms Goodwill's shake had but tickled. All about Mugello valley, felt some parish qualms At worship offered in bare walls without The comfort of a picture ? — prompt such need Our painter would supply, and throngs to see * Witnessed that goodness — no unholy greed Of gain — had coaxed from Don Furini — he Whom princes might in vain implore to toil For worldly profit — such a masterpiece. Brief — priest, you poured profuse God's wine and oil Praiseworthily, I know : shall praising cease When, priestly vesture put aside, mere man, You stand for judgment ? Rather — what acclaim — " Good son, good brother, friend in whom we scan No fault nor flaw " — salutes Furini's name, The loving as the liberal ! Enough : Only to ope a lily, though for sake Of setting free its scent, disturbs the rough Loose gold about its anther. I shall take No blame in one more blazon, last of all — Good painter were you : if in very deed I styled you great — what modern art dares call PARLEYINGS WITH FRANCIS FURINI 329 My word in question ? Let who will take heed Of what he seeks and misses in your brain To balance that precision of the brush Your hand could ply so deftly : all in vain Strives poet's power for outlet when the push Is lost upon a barred and bolted gate Of painter's impotency. Agnolo — Thine were alike the head and hand, by fate Doubly endowed ! Who boasts head only — woe To hand's presumption should brush emulate Fancy's free passage by the pen, and show Thought wrecked and ruined where the inexpert Foolhardy fingers half grasped, half let go Film-wings the poet's pen arrests unhurt ! No — painter such as that miraculous Michael, who deems you ? But the ample gift Of gracing walls else blank of this our house Of life with imagery, one bright drift Poured forth by pencil, — man and woman mere, Glorified till half owned for gods, — the dear Fleshly perfection of the human shape, — This was apportioned you whereby to praise Heaven and bless earth. Who clumsily essays, By slighting painter's craft, to prove the ape Of poet's pen-creation, just betrays Twofold ineptitude. ii. By such sure ways Do I return, Furini, to my first And central confidence — that he I proved Good priest, good man, good painter, and rehearsed Praise upon praise to show — not simply loved For virtue, but for wisdom honored too Needs must Furini be, — it follows — who Shall undertake to breed in me belief That, on his death-bed, weakness played the thief With wisdom, folly ousted reason quite ? List to the chronicler ! With main and might — So fame runs — did the poor soul beg his friends To buy and burn his hand-work, make amends For having reproduced therein — (Ah, me ! Sighs fame — that 's friend Filippo) — nudity! Yes, I assure you : he would paint — not men Merely — a pardonable fault — but when He had to deal with — Oh, not mother Eve 330 PARLE YINGS WITH Alone, permissibly in Paradise Naked and unashamed, — but dared achieve Dreadful distinction, at soul-safety's price, By also painting women — (why the need ?) Just as God made them : there, you have the truth ! Yes, rosed from top to toe in flush of youth, One foot upon the moss-fringe, would some Nymph Try, with its venturous fellow, if the lymph "Were chillier than the slab-stepped fountain-edge ; The while a-heap her garments on its ledge Of boulder lay within hand's easy reach, — No one least kid-skin cast around her ! Speech Shrinks from enumerating case and case Of — were it but Diana at the chase, "With tunic tucked discreetly hunting-high ! No, some Queen Venus set our necks awry, Turned faces from the painter's all-too-frank Triumph of flesh ! For — whom had he to thank — This self-appointed nature-student ? Whence Picked he up practice ? By what evidence Did he unhandsomely become adept In simulating bodies ? How except By actual sight of such ? Himself confessed The enormity : quoth Philip " When I pressed The painter to acknowledge his abuse Of artistry else potent — what excuse Made the infatuated man ? I give His very words : ' Did you but know, as I, — O scruple-splitting sickly-sensitive Mild-moral-monger, what the agony Of Art is ere Art satisfy herself In imitating Nature — (Man, poor elf, Striving to match the finger-mark of Him The immeasurably matchless) — gay or grim, Pray, would your smile be ? Leave mere fools to tax Art's high-strung brain's intentness as so lax That, in its mid-throe, idle fancy sees The moment for admittance ! ' Pleadings these — Specious, I grant." So adds, and seems to wince Somewhat, our censor — but shall truth convince Blockheads like Baldinucci ? in. I resume My incredulity : your other kind Of soul, Furini, never was so blind, FRANCIS FURINI 331 Even through death-mist, as to grope in gloom For cheer beside a bonfire piled to turn Ashes and dust all that your noble life Did homage to life's Lord by, — bid them burn — These Baldinucci blockheads — pictures rife With record, in each rendered loveliness, That one appreciative creature's debt Of thanks to the Creator, more or less, Was paid according as heart 's-will had met Hand's-power in Art's endeavor to express Heaven's most consummate of achievements, bless Earth by a semblance of the seal God set On woman his supremest work. I trust Rather, Furini, dying breath had vent In some fine fervor of thanksgiving just For this — that soul and body's power you spent — Agonized to adumbrate, trace in dust That marvel which we dream the firmament Copies in star-device when fancies stray Outlining, orb by orb, Andromeda — God's best of beauteous and magnificent Revealed to earth — the naked female form. Nay, I mistake not : wrath that 's but lukewarm Would boil indeed were such a critic styled Himself an artist : artist ! Ossa piled Topping Olympus — the absurd which crowns The extravagant — whereat one laughs, not frowns. Paints he ? One bids the poor pretender take His sorry self, a trouble and disgrace, From out the sacred presence, void the place Artists claim only. What — not merely wake Our pity that suppressed concupiscence — A satyr masked as matron — makes pretence To the coarse blue-fly's instinct — can perceive No better reason why she should exist — — God's lily-limbed and blush-rose-bosomed Eve — Than as a hot-bed for the sensualist To fly-blow with his fancies, make pure stuff Breed him back filth — this were not crime enough ? But further — fly to style itself — nay, more — To steal among the sacred ones, crouch down Though but to where their garments sweep the floor — — Still catching some faint sparkle from the crown Crowning transcendent Michael, Leonard, Rafael, — to sit beside the feet of such, Unspurned because unnoticed, then reward 332 PARLEYINGS WITH Their toleration — mercy overmuch — By stealing from the throne-step to the fools Curious outside the gateway, all-agape To learn by what procedure, in the schools Of Art, a merest man in outward shape May learn to be Correggio ! Old and young, These learners got their lesson : Art was just A safety-screen — (Art, which Correggio 's tongue Calls " Virtue ") — for a skulking vice : mere lust Inspired the artist when his Night and Morn Slept and awoke in marble on that edge Of heaven above our awe-struck earth : lust-born His Eve low bending took the privilege Of life from what our eyes saw — God's own palm That put the flame forth — to the love and thanks Of all creation save this recreant ! rv. Calm Our phrase, Furini ! Not the artist-ranks Claim riddance of an interloper : no — This Baldinucci did but grunt and sniff Outside Art's pale — ay, grubbed, where pine-trees grow, For pignuts only. v. You the Sacred ! If Indeed on you has been bestowed the dower Of Art in fulness, graced with head and hand, Head — to look up not downwards, hand — of power To make head's gain the portion of a world Where else the uninstructed ones too sure Would take all outside beauty — film that 's furled About a star — for the star's self, endure No guidance to the central glory, — nay, (Sadder) might apprehend the film was fog, Or (worst) wish all but vapor well away, And sky's pure product thickened from earth's bog — Since so, nor seldom, have your worthiest failed To trust their own soul's insight — why ? except For warning that the head of the adept May too much prize the hand, work unassailed By scruple of the better sense that finds An orb within each halo, bids gross flesh Free the fine spirit-pattern, nor enmesh More than is meet a marvel, custom blinds Only the vulgar eye to. Now, less fear FRANCIS FUR1NI 333 That you, the foremost of Art's fellowship, Will oft — will ever so offend ! But — hip And thigh — smite the Philistine ! You — slunk here — Connived at, by too easy tolerance, Not to scrape palette simply or squeeze brush, But dub your very self an Artist ? Tush — You, of the daubings, is it, dare advance This doctrine that the Artist-mind must needs Own to affinity with yours — confess Provocative acquaintance, more or less, With each impurely-peevish worm that breeds Inside your brain's receptacle ? VI. Enough. Who owns " I dare not look on diadems Without an itch to pick out, purloin gems Others contentedly leave sparkling " — gruff Answers the guard of the regalia : " Why — Consciously kleptomaniac — thrust yourself Where your illicit craving after pelf Is tempted most — in the King's treasury ? Go elsewhere ! Sort with thieves, if thus you feel—* When folk clean-handed simply recognize Treasure whereof the mere- sight satisfies — But straight your fingers are on itch to steal ! Hence with you ! " Pray, Furini ! VII. Bounteous God, Deviser and dispenser of all gifts To soul through sense, — in Art the soul uplifts Man's best of thanks ! What but Thy measuring-rod Meted forth heaven and earth ? more intimate, Thy very hands were busied with the task Of making, in this human shape, a mask — A match for that divine. Shall love abate Man's wonder ? Nowise ! True — true — all too true — No gift but, in the very plenitude Of its perfection, goes maimed, misconstrued By wickedness or weakness : still, some few Have grace to see Thy purpose, strength to mar Thy work by no admixture of their own, — Limn truth not falsehood, bid us love alone The type untampered with, the naked star ! " 334 PARLEYING S WITH VIII. And, prayer done, painter — what if you should preach ? Not as of old when playing pulpiteer To simple-witted country folk, but here In actual London try your powers of speech On us the cultured, therefore sceptical — What would you ? For, suppose he has his word In faith's behalf, no matter how absurd, This painter-theologian ? One and all We lend an ear — nay, Science takes thereto — Encourages the meanest who has racked Nature until he gains from her some fact, To state what truth is from his point of view, Mere pin-point though it be : since many such Conduce to make a whole, she bids our friend Come forward unabashed and haply lend His little life-experience to our much Of modern knowledge. Since she so insists, Up stands Furini. IX. " Evolutionists ! At truth I glimpse from depths, you glance from heights, Our stations for discovery opposites, — How should ensue agreement ? I explain : 'T is the tip-top of things to which you strain Your vision, until atoms, protoplasm, And what and whence and how may be the spasm Which sets all going, stop you : down perforce Needs must your observation take its course, Since there 's no moving upwards : link by link You drop to where the atoms somehow think, Feel, know themselves to be : the world 's begun, Such as we recognize it. Have you done Descending ? Here 's ourself , — Man, known to-day, Duly evolved at last, — so far, you say, The sum and seal of being's progress. Good ! Thus much at least is clearly understood — Of power does Man possess no particle : Of knowledge — just so much as shows that still It ends in ignorance on every side : But righteousness — ah, Man is deified Thereby, for compensation ! Make survey Of Man's surroundings, try creation — nay, Try emulation of the minimized Minuteness fancy may conceive ! Surprised FRANCIS FURIN1 335 Reason becomes by two defeats for one — Not only power at each phenomenon Baffled, but knowledge also in default — Asking what is minuteness — yonder vault Speckled with suns, or this the millionth — thing, How shall I call ? — that on some insect's wing Helps to make out in dyes the mimic star ? Weak, ignorant, accordingly we are : What then ? The worse for Nature ! Where began Righteousness, moral sense except in Man ? True, he makes nothing, understands no whit : • Had the initiator-spasm seen fit Thus doubly to endow him, none the worse And much the better were the universe. What does Man see or feel or apprehend Here, there, and everywhere, but faults to mend, Omissions to supply, — one wide disease Of things that are, which Man at once would ease Had will but power and knowledge ? failing both — Things must take will for deed — Man, nowise loth, Accepts pre-eminency : mere blind force — Mere knowledge undirected in its course By any care for what is made or marred In either's operation — these award The crown to ? Rather let it deck thy brows, Man, whom alone a righteousness endows Would cure the wide world's ailing ! Who disputes Thy claim thereto ? Had Spasm more attributes Than power and knowledge in its gift, before Man came to pass ? The higher that we soar, The less of moral sense like Man's we find : No sign of such before, — what comes behind, Who guesses ? But until there crown our sight The quite new — not the old mere infinite Of changings, — some fresh kind of sun and moon, — Then, not before, shall I expect a boon Of intuition just as strange, which turns Evil to good, and wrong to right, unlearns All Man's experience learned since Man was he. Accept in Man, advanced to this degree, The Prime Mind, therefore ! neither wise nor strong — Whose fault ? but were he both, then right, not wrong As now, throughout the world were paramount According to his will, — which I account The qualifying faculty. He stands Confessed supreme — the monarch whose commands 336 PARLEYINGS WITH Could he enforce, how bettered were the world ! He 's at the height this moment — to be hurled Next moment to the bottom by rebound Of his own peal of laughter. All around Ignorance wraps him, — whence and how and why- Things are, — yet cloud breaks and lets blink the sky Just overhead, not elsewhere ! What assures His optics that the very blue which lures Comes not of black outside it, doubly dense ? Ignorance overwraps his moral sense, Winds him about, relaxing, as it wraps, So much and no more than lets through perhaps The murmured knowledge — ' Ignorance exists.' " I at the bottom, Evolutionists, Advise beginning, rather. I profess To know just one fact — my self-consciousness, — 'Twixt ignorance and ignorance enisled, — Knowledge : before me was my Cause — that 's styled God : after, in due course succeeds the rest, — All that my knowledge comprehends — at best — At worst, conceives about in mild despair. Light needs must touch on either darkness : where ? Knowledge so far impinges on the Cause Before me, that I know — by certain laws Wholly unknown, whate'er I apprehend Within, without me, had its rise : thus blend I, and all things perceived, in one Effect. How far can knowledge any ray project On what comes after me — the universe ? Well, my attempt to make the cloud disperse Begins — not from above but underneath : I climb, you soar, — who soars soon loses breath And sinks, who climbs keeps one foot firm on fact* Ere hazarding the next step : soul's first act (Call consciousness the soul — some name we need) Getting itself aware, through stuff decreed Thereto (so call the body) — who has stept So far, there let him stand, become adept In body ere he shift his station thence One single hair's breadth. Do I make pretence To teach, myself unskilled in learning ? Lo, My life's work ! Let my pictures prove I know Somewhat of what this fleshly frame of ours Or is or should be, how the soul empowers FRANCIS FURINI 337 The body to reveal its every mood Of love and hate, pour forth its plenitude Of passion. If my hand attained to give Thus permanence to truth else fugitive, Did not I also fix each fleeting grace Of form and feature — save the beauteous face — Arrest decay in transitory might Of bone and muscle — cause the world to bless Forever each transcendent nakedness Of man and woman ? Were such feats achieved By sloth, or strenuous labor unrelieved, — Yet lavished vainly ? Ask that underground (So may I speak) of all on surface found Of flesh-perfection ! Depths on depths to probe Of ail-inventive artifice, disrobe Marvel at hiding under marvel, pluck Veil after veil from Nature — were the luck Ours to surprise the secret men so name, That still eludes the searcher — all the same, Repays his search with still fresh proof — ' Externe, Not inmost, is the Cause, fool ! Look and learn 1 ' Thus teach my hundred pictures : firm and fast There did I plant my first foot. And the next ? Nowhere ! 'T was put forth and withdrawn, perplexed At touch of what seemed stable and proved stuff Such as the colored clouds are : plain enough There lay the outside universe : try Man — My most immediate ! and the dip began From safe and solid into that profound Of ignorance I tell you surges round My rock-spit of self-knowledge. Well and 31, Evil and good irreconcilable Above, beneath, about my every side, — How did this wild confusion far and wide Tally with my experience when my stamp — So far from stirring — struck out, each a lamp, Spark after spark of truth from where I stood — Pedestalled triumph ? Evil there was good, Want was the promise of supply, defect Ensured completion, — - where and when and how ? Leave that to the First Cause ! Enough that now, Here where I stand, this moment 's me and mine, Shows me what is, permits me to divine What shall be. Wherefore ? Nay, how otherwise? Look at my pictures ! What so glorifies The body that the permeating soul 338 PARLEYINGS WITH Finds there no particle elude control Direct, or fail of duty, — most obscure When most subservient ? Did that Cause ensure The soul such raptures as its fancy stings Body to furnish when, uplift by wings Of passion, here and now, it leaves the earth, Loses itself above, where bliss has birth — (Heaven, be the phrase) — did that same Cause contrive Such solace for the body, soul must dive At drop of fancy's pinion, condescend To bury both alike on earth, our friend And fellow, where minutely exquisite Low lie the pleasures, now and here — no herb But hides its marvel, peace no doubts perturb In each small mystery of insect life — — Shall the soul's Cause thus gift the soul, yet strife Continue still of fears with hopes, — for why ? What if the Cause, whereof we now descry So far the wonder-working, lack at last Will, power, benevolence — a protoplast, No consummator, sealing up the sum Of all things, — past and present and to come — Perfection ? No, I have no doubt at all ! There 's my amount of knowledge — great or small, Sufficient for my needs : for see ! advance Its light now on that depth of ignorance I shrank before from — yonder where the world Lies wreck-strewn, — evil towering, prone good — hurled From pride of place, on every side. For me (Patience, beseech you !) knowledge can but be Of good by knowledge of good's opposite — Evil, — since, to distinguish wrong from right, Both must be known in each extreme, beside — (Or what means knowledge — to aspire or bide Content with half-attaining ? Hardly so !) Made to know on, know ever, I must know All to be known at any halting-stage Of my soul's progress, such as earth, where wage War, just for soul's instruction, pain with joy, Folly with wisdom, all that works annoy With all that quiets and contents, — in brief, Good strives with evil. Now then for relief, Friends, of your patience kindly curbed so long. ' What ? ' snarl you ; ' is the fool's conceit thus strong — Must the whole outside world in soul and sense FRANCIS FURJN1 339 Suffer, that he grow sage at its expense ? ' By no means ! 'T is by merest touch of toe I try — not trench on — ignorance, just know — And so keep steady footing : how you fare, Caught in the whirlpool — that 's the Cause's care, Strong, wise, good, — this I know at any rate In my own self, — but how may operate With you — strength, wisdom, goodness — no least blink Of knowledge breaks the darkness round me. Think ! Could I see plain, be somehow certified All was illusion, — evil far and wide Was good disguised, — why, out with one huge wipe Goes knowledge from me. Type needs antitype : As night needs day, as shine needs shade, so good Needs evil : how were pity understood Unless by pain ? Make evident that pain Permissibly masks pleasure — you abstain From outstretch of the finger-tip that saves A drowning fly. Who proffers help of hand To weak Andromeda exposed on strand At mercy of the monster ? Were all true, Help were not wanting : ' But 't is false,' cry you, ' Mere fancy-work of paint and brush ! ' No less, Were mine the skill, the magic, to impfess Beholders with a confidence they saw Life, — veritable flesh and blood in awe Of just as true a sea-beast, — would they stare Simply as now, or cry out, curse and swear, Or call the gods to help, or catch up stick And stone, according as their hearts were quick Or sluggish ? Well, some old artificer Could do as much, — at least, so books aver, — Able to make-believe, while I, poor wight, Make-fancy, nothing more. Though wrong were right, Could we but know — still wrong must needs seem wrong To do right's service, prove men weak or strong, Choosers of evil or of good. ' No such Illusion possible ! ' Ah, friends, you touch Just here my solid standing-place amid The wash and welter, whence all doubts are bid Back to the ledge they break against in foam, Futility : my soul, and my soul's home This body, — how each operates on each, And how things outside, fact or feigning, teach What good is and what evil, — just the same, Be feigning or be fact the teacher, — blame 340 PARLEY1NGS WITH Diffidence nowise if, from this I judge My point of vantage, not an inch I budge. All — for myself — seems ordered wise and well Inside it, — what reigns outside, who can tell ? Contrariwise, who needs be told ' The space "Which yields thee knowledge, — do its bounds embrace Well-willing and wise-working, each at height ? Enough : beyond thee lies the infinite — Back to thy circumscription ! ' Back indeed ! Ending where I began — thus : retrocede, Who will, — what comes first, take first, I advise ! Acquaint you with the body ere your eyes Look upward : this Andromeda of mine — Gaze on the beauty, Art hangs out for sign There 's finer entertainment underneath. Learn how they ministrate to life and death — Those incommensurably marvellous Contrivances which furnish forth the house Where soul has sway ! Though Master keep aloof, Signs of His presence multiply from roof To basement of the building. Look around, Learn thoroughly, — no fear that you confound Master with messuage ! He 's away, no doubt, But what if, all at once, you come upon A startling proof — not that the Master gone Was present lately — but that something — whence Light comes — has pushed Him into residence ? Was such the symbol's meaning, — old, uncouth — That circle of the serpent, tail in mouth ? Only by looking low, ere looking high, Comes penetration of the mystery." Thanks ! After sermonizing, psalmody ! Now praise with pencil, Painter ! Fools attaint Your fame, forsooth, because its power inclines To livelier colors, more attractive lines Than suit some orthodox sad sickly saint — Gray male emaciation, haply streaked Carmine by scourgings — or they want, far worse — Some self-scathed woman, framed to bless not curse Nature that loved the form whereon hate wreaked The wrongs you see. No, rather paint some full Benignancy, the first and foremost boon Of youth, health, strength, — show beauty's May, ere June FRANCIS FUR IN I 341 Undo the bud's blush, leave a rose to cull — No poppy, neither ! yet less perfect-pure, Divinely-precious with life's dew besprent. Show saintliness that 's simply innocent Of guessing sinnership exists to cure All in good time ! In time let age advance And teach that knowledge helps — not ignorance — The healing of the nations. Let my spark Quicken your tinder ! Burn with — Joan of Arc I Not at the end, nor midway when there grew The brave delusions, when rare fancies flew Before the eyes, and in the ears of her Strange voices woke imperiously astir : No, — paint the peasant girl all peasant-like, Spirit and flesh — the hour about to strike When this should be transfigured, that inflamed, By heart's admonishing " Thy country shamed, Thy king shut out of all his realm except One sorry corner ! " and to life forth leapt The indubitable lightning " Can there be Country and king's salvation — all through me ? " Memorize that burst's moment, Francis ! Tush — None of the nonsense-writing ! Fitlier brush Shall clear off fancy's film-work and let show Not what the foolish feign but the wise know — Ask Sainte-Beuve else ! — or better, Quicherat, The downright-digger into truth that 's — Bah, Bettered by fiction ? Well, of fact thus much Concerns you, that " of prudishness no touch From first to last defaced the maid ; anon, Camp-use compelling " — what says D'Alencon Her fast friend ? — *' though I saw while she undressed How fair she was — especially her breast — Never had I a wild thought ! " — as indeed I nowise doubt. Much less would she take heed — When eve came, and the lake, the hills around Were all one solitude and silence, — found Barriered impenetrably safe about, — Take heed of interloping eyes shut out, But quietly permit the air imbibe Her naked beauty till ... but hear the scribe ! Now as she fain would bathe, one even-tide, God's maid, this Joan, from the pool's edge she spied The fair blue bird clowns call the Fisher-king : And " 'Las, sighed she, my Liege is such a thing As thou, lord but of one poor lonely place 342 PARLEYINGS WITH FRANCIS FURINI Out of his whole wide France : were mine the grace To set my Dauphin free as thou, blue bird I " Properly Martin-fisher — that 's the word, Not yours nor mine : folks said the rustic oath In common use with her was — " By my troth ? " No, — " By my Martin " ! Paint this ! Only, turn Her face away — that face about to burn Into an angel's when the time is ripe ! That task 's beyond you. Finished, Francis ? Wipe Pencil, scrape palette, and retire content ! " Omnia non omnibus " — no harm is meant! WITH GERARD DE LAIRESSE Ah, but — because you were struck blind, could bless Your sense no longer with the actual view Of man and woman, those fair forms you drew In happier days so duteously and true, — Must I account my Gerard de Lairesse All sorrow-smitten ? He was hindered too — Was this no hardship ? — from producing, plain To us who still have eyes, the pageantry Which passed and passed before his busy brain And, captured on his canvas, showed our sky Traversed by flying shapes, earth stocked with brood Of monsters, — centaurs bestial, satyrs lewd, — Not without much Olympian glory, shapes Of god and goddess in their gay escapes From the severe serene : or haply paced The antique ways, god-counselled, nymph-embraced, Some early human kingly personage. Such wonders of the teeming poet's-age Were still to be : nay, these indeed began — Are not the pictures extant ? — till the ban Of blindness struck both palette from his thumb And pencil from his finger. Blind — not dumb, Else, Gerard, were my inmost bowels stirred With pity beyond pity : no, the word Was left upon your unmolested lips : Your mouth unsealed, despite of eyes' eclipse, Talked all brain's yearning into birth. I lack Somehow the heart to wish your practice back Which boasted hand's achievement in a score Of veritable pictures, less or more, Still to be seen : myself have seen them, — moved To pay due homage to the man I loved Because of that prodigious book he wrote 344 PARLE Y1NGS WITH On Artistry's Ideal, by taking note, Making acquaintance with his artist-work. So my youth's piety obtained success Of ail-too dubious sort : for, though it irk To tell the issue, few or none would guess From extant lines and colors, De Lairesse, Your faculty, although each deftly-grouped And aptly-ordered figure-piece was judged Worthy a prince's purchase in its day. Bearded experience bears not to be duped Like boyish fancy : 't was a boy that budged No foot's breadth from your visioned steps away The while that memorable " Walk " he trudged In your companionship, — the Book must say Where, when and whither, — " Walk," come what come may, No measurer of steps on this our globe Shall ever match for marvels. Faustus' robe, And Fortunatus' cap were gifts of price : But — oh, your piece of sober sound advice That artists should descry abundant worth In trivial commonplace, nor groan at dearth If fortune bade the painter's craft be plied In vulgar town and country ! Why despond Because hemmed round by Dutch canals ? Beyond The ugly actual, lo, on every side Imagination's limitless domain Displayed a wealth of wondrous sounds and sights Ripe to be realized by poet's brain Acting on painter's brush ! " Ye doubt ? Poor wights, What if I set example, go before, While you come after, and we both explore Holland turned Dreamland, taking care to note Objects whereto my pupils may devote Attention with advantage ? " So commenced That " Walk " amid true wonders — none to you, But huge to us ignobly common-sensed, Purblind, while plain could proper optics view In that old sepulchre by lightning split, Whereof the lid bore carven, — any dolt Imagines why, — Jove's very thunderbolt : You who could straight perceive, by glance at it, This tomb must needs be Phaeton's ! In a trice, Confirming that conjecture, close on hand, UEUAttD DE LAIRESSE 345 Behold, half out, half in the ploughed-up sand, A chariot-wheel explained its bolt-device : What other than the Chariot of the Sun Ever let drop the like ? Consult the tome * — I bid inglorious tarriers-at-home — For greater still surprise the while that " Walk " Went on and on, to end as it begun, Chokefull of chances, changes, every one No whit less wondrous. What was there to balk Us, who had eyes, from seeing ? You with none Missed not a marvel : wherefore ? Let us talk. rv. Say am I right ? Your sealed sense moved your mind, Free from obstruction, to compassionate Art's power left powerless, and supply the blind With fancies worth all facts denied by fate. Mind could invent things, add to — take away, At pleasure, leave out trifles mean and base Which vex the sight that cannot say them nay But, where mind plays the master, have no place. And bent on banishing was mind, be sure, All except beauty from its mustered tribe Of objects apparitional which lure Painter to show and poet to describe — That imagery of the antique song Truer than truth's self. Fancy's rainbow-birth Conceived 'mid clouds in Greece, could glance along Your passage o'er Dutch veritable earth, As with ourselves, who see, familiar throng About our pacings men and women worth Nowise a glance — so poets apprehend — Since nought avails portraying them in verse : While painters turn upon the heel, intend To spare their work the critic's ready curse Due to the daily and undignified. I who myself contentedly abide " Awake, nor want the wings of dream, — who tramp Earth's common surface, rough, smooth, dry or damp, — I understand alternatives, no less Conceive your soul's leap, Gerard de Lairesse ! How were it could I mingle false with true, * The Art of Painting, etc., by Gerard de Lairesse; translated by J. F. Fritsch. 1778. 346 PARLEY INGS WITH Boast, with the sights I see, your vision too ? Advantage would it prove or detriment If I saw double ? Could I gaze intent On Dryope plucking the blossoms red, As you, whereat her lote-tree writhed and bled, Yet lose no gain, no hard fast wide-awake Having and holding nature for the sake Of nature only — nymph and lote-tree thus Gained by the loss of fruit not fabulous, Apple of English homesteads, where I see Nor seek more than crisp buds a struggling bee Uncrumples, caught by sweet he clambers through ? Truly, a moot point : make it plain to me, Who, bee-like, sate sense with the simply true, Nor seek to heighten that sufficiency By help of feignings proper to the page — Earth's surface-blank whereon the elder age Put color, poetizing — poured rich life On what were else a dead ground — nothingness — Until the solitary world grew rife With Joves and Junos, nymphs and satyrs. Yes, The reason was, fancy composed the strife 'Twixt sense and soul : for sense, my De Lairesse, Cannot content itself with outward things, Mere beauty : soul must needs know whence there springs - How, when and why — what sense but loves, nor lists To know at all. Not one of man's acquists Ought he resignedly to lose, methinks : So, point me out which was it of the links Snapt first, from out the chain which used to bind Our earth to heaven, and yet for you, since blind, Subsisted still efficient and intact ? Oh, we can fancy too ! but somehow fact Has got to — say, not so much push aside Fancy, as to declare its place supplied By fact unseen but no less fact the same, Which mind bids sense accept. Is mind to blame, Or sense, — does that usurp, this abdicate ? First of all, as you " walked " — were it too late For us to walk, if so we willed ? Confess We have the sober feet still, De Lairesse ! Why not the freakish brain too, that must needs Supplement nature — not see flowers and weeds GERARD DE LAIRESSE 347 Simply as such, but link with each and all The ultimate perfection — what we call Rightly enough the human shape divine ? The rose ? No rose unless it disentwine From Venus' wreath the while she bends to kiss Her deathly love ? VII. Plain retrogression, this ! No, no : we poets go not back at all : What you did we could do — from great to small Sinking assuredly : if this world last One moment longer when Man finds its Past Exceed its Present — blame the Protoplast! If we no longer see as you of old, ' 'T is we see deeper. Progress for the bold ! You saw the body, 't is the soul we see. Try now ! Bear witness while you walk with me. I see as you : if we loose arms, stop pace, 'T is that you stand still, I conclude the race Without your company. Come, walk once more The " Walk " : if I to-day as you of yore See just like you the blind — then sight shall cry — The whole long day quite gone through — victory ! VIII. Thunders on thunders, doubling and redoubling Doom o'er the mountain, while a sharp white fire Now shone, now sheared its rusty herbage, troubling Hardly the fir-boles, now discharged its ire Full where some pine-tree's solitary spire Crashed down, defiant to the last : till — lo, The motive of the malice ! — all aglow, Circled with flame there yawned a sudden rift T the rock-face, and I saw a form erect Front and defy the outrage, while — as checked, Chidden, beside him dauntless in the drift — Cowered a heaped creature, wing and wing outspread In deprecation o'er the crouching head Still hungry for the feast foregone awhile. O thou, of scorn's unconquerable smile, Was it when this — Jove's feathered fury — slipped Gore-glutted from the heart's core whence he ripped — This eagle-hound — neither reproach nor prayer — Baffled, in one more fierce attempt to tear Fate's secret from thy safeguard, — was it then That all these thunders rent earth, ruined air 348 PARLE YINGS WITH To reach thee, pay thy patronage of men ? He thundered, — to withdraw, as beast to lair, Before the triumph on thy pallid brow. Gather the night again about thee now, Hate on, love ever ! Morn is breaking there — The granite ridge pricks through the mist, turns gold As wrong turns right. O laughters manifold Of ocean's ripple at dull earth's despair ! IX. But morning's laugh sets all the crags alight Above the baffled tempest : tree and tree Stir themselves from the stupor of the night, And every strangled branch resumes its right To breathe, shakes loose dark's clinging dregs, waves free In dripping glory. Prone the runnels plunge, While earth, distent with moisture like a sponge, Smokes up, and leaves each plant its gem to see, Each grass-blade's glory-glitter. Had I known The torrent now turned river ? — masterful Making its rush o'er tumbled ravage — stone And stub which barred the froths and foams : no bull Ever broke bounds in formidable sport More overwhelmingly, till lo, the spasm Sets him to dare that last mad leap : report Who may — his fortunes in the deathly chasm That swallows him in silence ! Bather turn Whither, upon the upland, pedestalled Into the broad day-splendor, whom discern These eyes but thee, supreme one, rightly called Moon-maid in heaven above and, here below, Earth's huntress-queen ? I note the garb succinct Saving from smirch that purity of snow From breast to knee — snow's self with just the tinct Of the apple-blossom's heart-blush. Ah, the bow Slack-strung her fingers grasp, where, ivory-linked Horn curving blends with horn, a moonlike pair Which mimic the brow's crescent sparkling so — As if a star's live restless fragment winked Proud yet repugnant, captive in such hair ! What hope along the hillside, what far bliss Lets the crisp hair-plaits fall so low they kiss Those lucid shoulders ? Must a morn so blithe Needs have its sorrow when the twang and hiss Tell that from out thy sheaf one shaft makes writhe Its victim, thou unerring Artemis ? GERARD DE LAIRESSE 349 Why did the chamois stand so fair a mark Arrested by the novel shape he dreamed Was bred of liquid marble in the dark Depths of the mountain's womb which ever teemed With novel births of wonder ? Not one spark Of pity in that steel-gray glance which gleamed At the poor hoof's protesting as it stamped Idly the granite ? Let me glide unseen From thy proud presence : well mayst thou be queen Of all those strange and sudden deaths which damped So oft Love's torch and Hymen's taper lit For happy marriage till the maidens paled And perished on the temple-step, assailed By — what except to envy must man's wit Impute that sure implacable release Of life from warmth and joy ? But death means peace. Noon is the conqueror, — not a spray, nor leaf, Nor herb, nor blossom but has rendered up Its morning dew : the valley seemed one cup Of cloud-smoke, but the vapor's reign was brief ; Sun-smitten, see, it hangs — the filmy haze — Gray-garmenting the herbless mountain-side, To soothe the day's sharp glare : while far and wide Above unclouded burns the sky, one blaze With fierce immitigable blue, no bird Ventures to spot by passage. E'en of peaks Which still presume there, plain each pale point speaks In wan transparency of waste incurred By over-daring : far from me be such ! Deep in the hollow, rather, where combine Tree, shrub and brier to roof with shade and cool The remnant of some lily-strangled pool, Edged round with mossy fringing soft and fine. Smooth lie the bottom slabs, and overhead Watch elder, bramble, rose, and service-tree And one beneficent rich barberry Jewelled all over with fruit-pendants red. What have I seen ! O Satyr, well I know How sad thy case, and what a world of woe Was hid by the brown visage furry-framed Only for mirth : who otherwise could think — Marking thy mouth gape still on laughter's brink, Thine eyes a-swim with merriment unnamed But haply guessed at by their furtive wink ? 350 PARLEYING S WITH And all the while a heart was panting sick Behind that shaggy bulwark of thy breast — Passion it was that made those breath-bursts thick I took for mirth subsiding into rest. So, it was Lyda — she of all the train Of f orest-thridding nymphs, — 't was only she Turned from thy rustic homage in disdain, Saw but that poor uncouth outside of thee. And, from her circling sisters, mocked a pain Echo had pitied — whom Pan loved in vain — For she was wishful to partake thy glee, Mimic thy mirth — who loved her not again, Savage for Lyda's sake. She crouches there — Thy cruel beauty, slumberously laid Supine on heaped-up beast-skins, unaware Thy steps have traced her to the briery glade, Thy greedy hands disclose the cradling lair, Thy hot eyes reach and revel on the maid ! Now, what should this be for ? The sun's decline Seems as he lingered lest he lose some act Dread and decisive, some prodigious fact Like thunder from the safe sky's sapphirine About to alter earth's conditions, packed With fate for nature's self that waits, aware What mischief unsuspected in the air Menaces momently a cataract. Therefore it is that yonder space extends Untrenched upon by any vagrant tree, Shrub, weed well-nigh ; they keep their bounds, leave free The platform for what actors ? Foes or friends, Here come they trooping silent : heaven suspends Purpose the while they range themselves. I see ! Bent on a battle, two vast powers agree This present and no after-contest ends One or the other's grasp at rule in reach Over the race of man — host fronting host, As statue statue fronts — wrath-molten each, • Solidified by hate, — earth halved almost, To close once more in chaos. Yet two shapes Show prominent, each from the universe Of minions round about him, that disperse Like cloud-obstruction when a bolt escapes. Who flames first ? Macedonian is it thou ? Ay, and who fronts thee, King Darius, drapes His form with purple, fillet-folds his brow. GERARD DE LAIRESSE 351 What, then the long day dies at last ? Abrupt The sun that seemed, in stooping, sure to melt Our mountain-ridge, is mastered : black the belt Of westward crags, his gold could not corrupt, Barriers again the valley, lets the flow Of lavish glory waste itself away — Whither ? For new climes, fresh eyes breaks the day ! Night was not to be baffled. If the glow Were all that 's gone from us ! Did clouds, afloat So filmily but now, discard no rose, Sombre throughout the fleeciness that grows A sullen uniformity. I note Rather displeasure, — in the overspread Change from the swim of gold to one pale lead Oppressive to malevolence, — than late Those amorous yearnings when the aggregate Of cloudlets pressed that each and all might sate Its passion and partake in relics red Of day's bequeathment : now, a frown instead Estranges, and affrights who needs must fare On and on till his journey ends : but where ? Caucasus ? Lost now in the night. Away And far enough lies that Arcadia. The human heroes tread the world's dark way No longer. Yet I dimly see almost — Yes, for my last adventure ! 'T is a ghost. So drops away the beauty ! There he stands Voiceless, scarce strives with deprecating hands. . . • Enough ! Stop further fooling, De Lairesse ! My fault, not yours ! Some fitter way express Heart's satisfaction that the Past indeed Is past, gives way before Life's best and last, The all-including Future ! What were life Did soul stand still therein, forego her strife Through the ambiguous Present to the goal Of some all-reconciling Future ? Soul, Nothing has been which shall not bettered be Hereafter, — leave the root, by law's decree Whence springs the ultimate and perfect tree ! Busy thee with unearthing root ? Nay, climb — Quit trunk, branch, leaf and flower — reach, rest sublime Where fruitage ripens in the blaze of day ! 352 PARLEYINGS WITH O'erlook, despise, forget, throw flower away, Intent on progress ? No whit more than stop Ascent therewith to dally, screen the top Sufficiency of yield by interposed Twistwork bold foot gets free from. Wherefore glozed The poets — " Dream afresh old godlike shapes, Recapture ancient fable that escapes, Push back reality, repeople earth "With vanished falseness, recognize no worth In fact new-born unless 't is rendered back Pallid by fancy, as the western rack Of fading cloud bequeaths the lake some gleam Of its gone glory ! " XIV. Let things be — not seem, I counsel rather, — do, and nowise dream ! Earth's young significance is all to learn : The dead Greek lore lies buried in the urn Where who seeks fire finds ashes. Ghost, forsooth ! What was the best Greece babbled of as truth ? " A shade, a wretched nothing, — sad, thin, drear, Cold, dark, it holds on to the lost loves here, If hand have haply sprinkled o'er the dead Three charitable dust-heaps, made mouth red One moment by the sip of sacrifice : Just so much comfort thaws the stubborn ice Slow-thickening upward till it choke at length The last faint flutter craving — not for strength, Not beauty, not the riches and the rule O'er men that made life life indeed." Sad school Was Hades ! Gladly, — might the dead but slink To life back, — to the dregs once more would drink Each interloper, drain the humblest cup Fate mixes for humanity. xv. Cheer up, — Be death with me, as with Achilles erst, Of Man's calamities the last and worst : Take it so ! By proved potency that still Makes perfect, be assured, come what come will, What once lives never dies — what here attains To a beginning, has no end, still gains And never loses aught : when, where, and how — Lies in Law's lap. What 's death then ? Even now GERARD BE LA1RESSE 353 With so much knowledge is it hard to bear Brief interposing ignorance ? Is care For a creation found at fault just there — There where the heart breaks bond and outruns time, To reach not follow what shall be ? XVI. Here 's rhyme Such as one makes now, — say, when Spring repeats That miracle the Greek Bard sadly greets : " Spring for the tree and herb — no Spring for us ! " Let Spring come : why, a man salutes her thus : Dance, yellows and whites and reds, — Lead your gay orgy, leaves, stalks, heads Astir with the wind, in the tulip-beds ! There 's sunshine ; scarcely a wind at all Disturbs starved grass and daisies small On a certain mound by a churchyard wall. Daisies and grass be my heart's bedfellows On the mound wind spares and sunshine mellows : ' Dance you, reds and whites and yellows ! WITH CHAKLES AVISON How strange ! — but, first of all, the little fact Which led my fancy forth. This bitter morn Showed me no object in the stretch forlorn Of garden-ground beneath my window, backed By yon worn wall wherefrom the creeper, tacked To clothe its brickwork, hangs now, rent and racked By five months' cruel winter, — showed no torn And tattered ravage worse for eyes to see Than just one ugly space of clearance, left Bare even of the bones which used to be Warm wrappage, safe embracement : this one cleft — — O what a life and beauty filled it up Startlingly, when methougnt the rude clay cup Ran over with poured bright wine ! 'T was a bird Breast-deep there, tugging at his prize, deterred No whit by the fast-falling snow-flake : gain Such prize my blackcap must by might and main — The cloth-shred, still a-flutter from its nail That fixed a spray once. Now, what told the tale To thee, — no townsman but born orchard-thief, — That here — surpassing moss-tuft, beard from sheaf Of sun-scorched barley, horsehairs long and stout, All proper country-pillage — here, no doubt, Was just the scrap to steal should line thy nest Superbly ? Off he flew, his bill possessed The booty sure to set his wife's each wing Greenly a-quiver. How they climb and cling, Hang parrot-wise to bough, these blackcaps ! Strange Seemed to a city-dweller that the finch Should stray so far to forage : at a pinch, Was not the fine wool's self within his range — Filchings on every fence ? But no : the need Was of this rag of manufacture, spoiled By art, and yet by nature near unsoiled, New-suited to what scheming finch would breed In comfort, this uncomfortable March. PARLEYINGS WITH CHARLES AVISON 355 II. Yet — by the first pink blossom on the larch ! — This was scarce stranger than that memory, — In want of what should cheer the stay-at-home, My soul, — must straight clap pinion, well-nigh roam A century back, nor once close plume, descry The appropriate rag to plunder, till she pounced — Pray, on what relic of a brain long still ? What old-world work proved forage for the bill Of memory the far-flyer ? " March " announced, I verily believe, the dead and gone Name of a music-maker : one of such In England as did little or did much, But, doing, had their day once. Avison ! Singly and solely for an air of thine, Bold-stepping " March," foot stept to ere my hand Could stretch an octave, I o'erlooked the band Of majesties familiar, to decline On thee — not too conspicuous on the list Of worthies who by help of pipe or wire Expressed in sound rough rage or soft desire — Thou, whileom of Newcastle organist ! m. So much could one — well, thinnish air effect ! Am I ungrateful ? for, your March, styled " Grand," Did veritably seem to grow, expand, And greaten up to title as, unchecked, Dream-marchers marched, kept marching, slow and sure, In time, to tune, unchangeably the same, From nowhere into nowhere, — out they came, Onward they passed, and in they went. No lure Of novel modulation pricked the flat Forthright persisting melody, — no hint That discord, sound asleep beneath the flint, Struck — might spring spark-like, claim due tit-for-tat, Quenched in a concord. No ! Yet, such the might Of quietude's immutability, That somehow coldness gathered warmth, well-nigh Quickened — which could not be ! — grew burning-brighi; "With fife-shriek, cymbal-clash and trumpet-blare, To drum-accentuation : pacing turned Striding, and striding grew gigantic, spurned At last the narrow space 'twixt earth and air, So shook me back into my sober self. 356 PARLEYINGS WITH IV. And where woke I ? The March had set me down There whence I plucked the measure, as his brown Frayed flannel-bit my blackcap. Great John Relfe, Master of mine, learned, redoubtable, It little needed thy consummate skill To fitly figure such a bass ! The key Was — should not memory play me false • — well, C. Ay, with the Greater Third, in Triple Time, Three crotchets to a bar : no change, I grant, Except from Tonic down to Dominant. And yet — and yet — if I could put in rhyme The manner of that marching ! — which had stopped — I wonder, where? — but that my weak self dropped From out the ranks, to rub eyes disentranced And feel that, after all the way advanced, Back must I foot it, I and my compeers, Only to reach, across a hundred years, The bandsman Avison whose little, book And large tune thus had led me the long way (As late a rag my blackcap) from to-day And to-day's music-manufacture, — Brahms, Wagner, Dvorak, Liszt, — - to where — trumpets, shawms, Show yourselves joyful ! — Handel reigns — supreme ? By no means ! Buononcini's work is theme For fit laudation of the impartial few : (We stand in England, mind you !) Fashion too Favors Geminiani — of those choice Concertos : nor there wants a certain voice Raised in thy favor likewise, famed Pepusch Dear to our great-grandfathers ! In a bush Of Doctor's wig, they prized thee timing beats While Greenway trilled "Alexis." Such were feats Of music in thy day — dispute who list — Avison, of Newcastle organist ! And here 's your music all alive once more — As once it was alive, at least : just so The figured worthies of a waxwork-show Attest — such people, years and years ago, Looked thus when outside death had life below, — Could say " We are now " not " We were of yore," — " Feel how our pulses leap ! " and not " Explore — Explain why quietude has settled o'er CHARLES AVISON 357 Surface once all-awork ! " Ay, such a " Suite " Boused heart to rapture, such a " Fugue " would catch Soul heavenwards up, when time was : why attach Blame to exhausted faultlessness, no match For fresh achievement ? Feat once — ever feat ! How can completion grow still more complete ? Hear Avison ! He tenders evidence That music in his day as much absorbed Heart and soul then as Wagner's music now, Perfect from centre to circumference — Orbed to the full can be but fully orbed : And yet — and yet — whence comes it that " O Thou " — Sighed by the soul at eve to Hesperus — Will not again take wing and fly away (Since fatal Wagner fixed it fast for us) In some unmodulated minor ? Nay, Even by Handel's help ! vr. I state it thus : There is no truer truth obtainable By Man than comes of music. " Soul " — (accept A. word which vaguely names what no adept In word-use fits and fixes so that still Thing shall not slip word's fetter and remain Innominate as first, yet, free again, Is no less recognized the absolute Fact underlying that same other fact Concerning which no cavil can dispute Our nomenclature when we call it " Mind " — Something not Matter) — " Soul," who seeks shall find Distinct beneath that something. You exact An illustrative image ? This may suit. We see a work : the worker works behind, Invisible himself. Suppose his act Be to o'erarch a gulf : he digs, transports, Shapes and, through enginery — all sizes, sorts, Lays stone by stone until a floor compact Proves our bridged causeway. So works Mind — by stress Of faculty, with loose facts, more or less, Builds up our solid knowledge : all the same, Underneath rolls what Mind may hide not tame, An element which works beyond our guess, Soul, the unsounded sea — whose lift of surge, 358 PARLEYINGS WITH Spite of all superstructure, lets emerge, In flower and foam, Feeling from out the deeps Mind arrogates no mastery upon — Distinct indisputably. Has there gone To dig up, drag forth, render smooth from rough Mind's flooring, — operosity enough ? Still the successive labor of each inch, Who lists may learn : from the last turn of winch That let the polished slab-stone find its place, To the first prod of pickaxe at the base Of the unquarried mountain, — what was all Mind's varied process except natural, Nay, easy even, to descry, describe, After our fashion ? " So worked Mind : its tribe Of senses ministrant above, below, Far, near, or now or haply long ago Brought to pass knowledge." But Soul's sea, — drawn whence, Fed how, forced whither, — by what evidence Of ebb and flow, that 's felt beneath the tread, Soul has its course 'neath Mind's work overhead, — Who tells of, tracks to source the founts of Soul ? Yet wherefore heaving sway and restless roll This side and that, except to emulate Stability above ? To match and mate Feeling with knowledge, — make as manifest Soul's work as Mind's work, turbulence as rest, Hates, loves, joys, woes, hopes, fears, that rise and sink Ceaselessly, passion's transient flit and wink, A ripple's tinting or a spume-sheet's spread Whitening the wave, — to strike all this life dead, Run mercury into a mould like lead, And henceforth have the plain result to show — How we Feel, hard and fast as what we Know — This were the prize and is the puzzle ! — which Music essays to solve : and here 's the hitch That balks her of full triumph else to boast. virr. All Arts endeavor this, and she the most Attains thereto, yet fails of touching : why ? Does Mind get Knowledge from Art's ministry ? What 's known once is known ever : Arts arrange, Dissociate, re-distribute, interchange Part with part, lengthen, broaden, high or deep Construct their bravest, — still such pains produce Change, not creation : simply what lay loose CHARLES AVI SON 359 At first lies firmly after, what design Was faintly traced in hesitating line Once on a time, grows firmly resolute Henceforth and evermore. Now, could we shoot Liquidity into a mould, — some way Arrest Soul's evanescent moods, and keep Unalterably still the forms that leap To life for once by help of Art ! — which yearns To save its capture : Poetry discerns, Painting is 'ware of passion's rise and fall, Bursting, subsidence, intermixture — all A-seethe within the gulf. Each Art a-strain Would stay the apparition, — nor in vain : The Poet's word-mesh, Painter's sure and swift Color-and-line-throw — proud the prize they lift ! Thus felt Man and thus looked Man, — passions caught I' the midway swim of sea, — not much, if aught, Of nether-brooding loves, hates, hopes and fears, Enwombed past Art's disclosure. Fleet the years, And still the Poet's page holds Helena At gaze from topmost Troy — " But where are they, My brothers, in the armament I name Hero by hero ? Can it be that shame For their lost sister holds them from the war ? " — Knowing not they already slept afar Each of them in his own dear native land. Still on the Painter's fresco, from the hand Of God takes Eve the life-spark whereunto She trembles up from nothingness. Outdo Both of them, Music ! Dredging deeper yet, Drag into day, — by sound, thy master-net, — The abysmal bottom-growth, ambiguous thing Unbroken of a branch, palpitating With limbs' play and life's semblance ! There it lies, Marvel and mystery, of mysteries And marvels, most to love and laud thee for ! Save it from chance and change we most abhor ! Give momentary feeling permanence, So that thy capture hold, a century hence, Truth's very heart of truth as, safe to-day, The Painter's Eve the Poet's Helena Still rapturously bend, afar still 'throw The wistful gaze ! Thanks, Homer, Angelo ! Could Music rescue thus from Soul's profound, Give feeling immortality by sound, Then, were she queenliest of Arts ! Alas — 360 PARLEYINGS WITH As well expect the rainbow not to pass ! " Praise ' Radamisto ' — love attains therein To perfect utterance ! Pity — what shall win Thy secret like ' Einaldo ' ? " — so men said : Once all was perfume — now, the flower is dead — They spied tints, sparks have left the spar ! Love, hate, Joy, fear, survive, — alike importunate As ever to go walk the world again, Nor ghost-like pant for outlet all in vain Till Music loose them, fit each family "With form enough to know and name it by For any recognizer sure of ken And sharp of ear, no grosser denizen Of earth than needs be. Nor to such appeal Is Music long obdurate : off they steal — How gently, dawn-doomed phantoms ! back come they Full-blooded with new crimson of broad day — Passion made palpable once more. Ye look Your last on Handel ? Gaze your first on Gluck ! Why wistful search, O waning ones, the chart Of stars for you while Haydn, while Mozart Occupies heaven ? These also, fanned to fire, Flamboyant wholly, — so perfections tire, — Whiten to wanness, till ... let others note The ever-new invasion ! I devote Rather my modicum of parts to use What power may yet avail to re-infuse (In fancy, please you !) sleep that looks like death With momentary liveliness, lend breath To make the torpor half inhale. O Relfe, An all-unworthy pupil, from the shelf Of thy laboratory, dares unstop Bottle, ope box, extract thence pinch and drop Of dusts and dews a many thou didst shrine Each in its right receptacle, assign To each its proper office, letter large Label and label, then with solemn charge, Reviewing learnedly the list complete Of chemical reactives, from thy feet Push down the same to me, attent below, Power in abundance : armed wherewith I go To play the enlivener. Bring good antique stuff ! Was it alight once ? Still lives spark enough CHARLES AVISON 361 For breath to quicken, run the smouldering ash Red right-through. What, " stone-dead " were fools so rash As style my Avison, because he lacked Modern appliance, spread out phrase unracked By modulations fit to make each hair Stiffen upon his wig ? See there — and there ! I sprinkle my reactives, pitch broadcast Discords and resolutions, turn aghast Melody's easy-going, jostle law With license, modulate (no Bach in awe) Change enharmonically (Hudl to thank) And lo, upstart the flamelets, — what was blank Turns scarlet, purple, crimson ! Straightway scanned By eyes that like new lustre — Love once more Yearns through the Largo, Hatred as before Rages in the Rubato : e'en thy March, My Avison, which, sooth to say — (ne'er arch Eyebrows in anger !) — timed, in Georgian years The step precise of British Grenadiers To such a nicety, — if score I crowd, If rhythm I break, if beats I vary, — tap At bar's off-starting turns true thunder-clap, Ever the pace augmented till — what 's here ? Titanic striding toward Olympus ! x. Fear No such irreverent innovation ! Still Glide on, go rolling, water-like, at will — Nay, were thy'melody in monotone, The due three-parts dispensed with ! This alone Comes of my tiresome talking : Music's throne Seats somebody whom somebody unseats, And whom in turn — by who knows what new feats Of strength — shall somebody as sure push down, Consign him dispossessed of sceptre, crown, And orb imperial — whereto ? Never dream That what once lived shall ever die ! They seem Dead — do they ? lapsed things lost in limbo ? Bring Our life to kindle theirs, and straight each king Starts, you shall see, stands up, from head to foot No inch that is not Purcell ! Wherefore ? (Suit Measure to subject, first — no marching on 382 PARLEYINGS WITH Yet in thy bold C major, Avison, As suited step a minute since : no : wait — Into the minor key first modulate — Gently with A, now — in the Lesser Third !) XII. Of all the lamentable debts incurred By Man through buying knowledge, this were worst : That he should find his last gain prove his first Was futile — merely nescience absolute, Not knowledge in the bud which holds a fruit Haply undreamed of in the soul's Spring-tide, Pursed in the petals Summer opens wide, And Autumn, withering, rounds to perfect ripe, — Not this, ■ — but ignorance, a blur to wipe From human records, late it graced so much. " Truth — this attainment ? Ah, but such and such Beliefs of yore seemed inexpugnable When we attained them ! E'en as they, so will This their successor have the due morn, noon, Evening and night — just as an old-world tune Wears out and drops away, until who hears Smilingly questions — ' This it was brought tears Once to all eyes, — this roused heart's rapture once ? ' So will it be with truth that, for the nonce, Styles itself truth perennial : 'ware its wile ! Knowledge turns nescience, — foremost on the file, Simply proves first of our delusions." xm. Now — Blare it forth, bold C major ! Lift thy brow, Man, the immortal, that wast never fooled With gifts no gifts at all, nor ridiculed — Man knowing — he who nothing knew ! As Hope, Fear, Joy, and Grief, — though ampler stretch and scope They seek and find in novel rhythm, fresh phrase, — Were equally existent in far days Of Music's dim beginning — even so, Truth was at full within thee long ago, Alive as now it takes what latest shape May startle thee by strangeness. Truths escape Time's insufficient garniture : they fade, They fall — those sheathings now grown sere, whose aid Was infinite to truth they wrapped, saved fine And free through March frost : May dews crystalline CHARLES AV1S0N 363 Nourish truth merely, — does June boast the fruit As — not new vesture merely but, to boot, Novel creation ? Soon shall fade and fall Myth after myth — the husk-like lies I call New truth's corolla-safeguard : Autumn comes, So much the better ! * XIV. Therefore — bang the drums, Blow the trumpets, Avison ! March-motive ? that's Truth which endures resetting. Sharps and fiats, Lavish at need, shall dance athwart thy score When ophicleide and bombardon's uproar Mate the approaching trample, even now Big in the distance — or my ears deceive — Of federated England, fitly weave March-music for the Future ! xv. Or suppose Back, and not forward, transformation goes ? Once more some sable-stoled procession — say, From Little-ease to Tyburn wends its way, Out of the dungeon to the gallows-tree Where heading, hacking, hanging is to be Of half-a-dozen recusants — this day Three hundred years ago ! How duly drones Elizabethan plain-song — dim antique Grown clarion-clear the while I humbly wreak A classic vengeance on thy March ! It moans — Larges and Longs and Breves displacing quite Crotchet-and-quaver pertness — brushing bars Aside and filling vacant sky with stars Hidden till now that day returns to night. XVI. Nor night nor day : one purpose move us both, Be thy mood mine ! As thou wast minded, Man 's The cause our music champions : I were loth To think we cheered our troop to Preston Pans Ignobly : back to times of England's best ! Parliament stands for privilege — life and limb Guards Hollis, Haselrig, Strode, Hampden, Pym, The famous Five. There 's rumor of arrest. Bring up the Train Bands, Southwark ! They protest : Shall we not all join chorus ? Hark the hymn, 364 PARLEY INGS WITH — Bough, rude, robustious — homely heart a-throb, Harsh voice a-hallo, as beseems the mob ! How good is noise ! what 's silence but despair Of making sound match gladness never there ? Give me some great glad " subject," glorious Bach, Where cannon-roar not organ-peal we lack ! Join in, give voice robustious rude and rough, — * Avison helps — so heart lend noise enough ! Fife, trump, drum, sound ! and singers then Marching say " Pym, the man of men ! " Up, heads, your proudest — out, throats, your loudest — " Somerset's Pym ! " Strafford from the block, Eliot from the den, Foes, friends, shout " Pym, our citizen ! " "Wail, the foes he quelled, — hail, the friends he held, " Tavistock's Pym ! " Hearts prompt heads, hands that ply the pen Teach babes unborn the where and when. — Tyrants, he braved them, — patriots, he saved them ■ " Westminster's Pym ! " CHARLES A VI SON 365 Lustily. £fTTrrtrjr-/iNB Is -*=-■ feB£^fa Sg£m^g Fgp pp E: f PTirjTT^^ P i3*3i ll=S^ --r rf -Hc£E£etfc Ei sS^ li ggj^a^ PS B5S -sh -*— »- *-#-H S 1 ^ 1 ? m IP ES FUST AND HIS FRIENDS AN EPILOGUE. (Inside the House of Fust, Mayence, 1457.) FIRST FRIEND. Up, up, up — next step of the staircase Lands us, lo, at the chamber of dread ! SECOND FKIEND. Locked and barred ? THIKD FRIEND. Door open — the rare case ! FOURTH FRIEND. Ay, there he leans — lost wretch ! FIFTH FRIEND. His head Sunk on his desk 'twixt his arms outspread ! SIXTH FRIEND. Hallo, — wake, man, ere God thunderstrike Mayence — Mulct for thy sake who art Satan's, John Fust ! Satan installed here, God's rule in abeyance, Mayence some morning may crumble to dust. Answer our questions thou shalt and thou must ! SEVENTH FRIEND. Softly and fairly ! Wherefore a-gloom ? Greet us, thy gossipry, cousin and sib ! Raise the forlorn brow, Fust ! Make room — Let daylight through arms which, enfolding thee, crib From those clenched lids the comfort of sunshine ! FIRST FRD3ND. So glib Thy tongue slides to " comfort " already ? Not mine ! Behoves us deal roundly : the wretch is distraught AN EPILOGUE 367 — Too well I guess wherefore ! Behoves a Divine — Such as I, by grace, boast me — to threaten one caught In the enemy's toils, — setting " comfort " at nought. SECOND FRIEND. Nay, Brother, so hasty ? I heard — nor long since — Of a certain Black Art'sman who, — helplessly bound By rash pact with Satan, — through paying — why mince The matter ? — fit price to the Church, — safe and sound Full a year after death in his grave-clothes was found. Whereas 't is notorious the Fiend claims his due During lifetime, — comes clawing, with talons aflame, The soul from the flesh-rags left smoking and blue : So it happed with John Faust ; lest John Fust fare the same, — Look up, I adjure thee by God's holy name ! For neighbors and friends — no foul hell-brood flock we ! Saith Solomon " Words of the wise are as goads : " Ours prick but to startle from torpor, set free Soul and sense from death's drowse ! FIRST FRIEND. And soul, wakened, unloads Much sin by confession : no mere palinodes ! — "I was youthful and wanton, am old yet no sage : When angry I cursed, struck and slew : did I want ? Right and left did I rob : though no war I dared wage With the Church (God forbid !) — harm her least minis, trant — Still I outraged all else. Now that strength is grown scant, I am probity's self " — no such Heatings as these ! But avowal of guilt so enormous, it balks Tongue's telling. Yet penitence prompt may appease God's wrath at thy bond with the Devil who stalks — Strides hither to strangle thee ! FUST. Childhood so talks. — Not rare wit nor ripe age — ye boast them, my neighbors ! — Should lay such a charge on your townsman, this Fust Who, known for a life spent in pleasures and labors 368 FUST AND HIS FRIENDS If freakish yet venial, could scarce be induced To traffic with fiends. FIRST FRIEND. So, my words have unloosed A plie from those pale lips corrugate but now ? FUST. Lost count me, yet not as ye lean to surmise. FIRST FRIEND. To surmise ? to establish ! Unbury that brow ! Look up, that thy judge may read clear in thine eyes ! SECOND FRIEND. By your leave,. Brother Barnabite ! Mine to advise ! — Who arraign thee, John Fust ! What was bruited erewhile Now bellows through Mayence. All cry — thou hast trucked Salvation away for lust's solace ! Thy smile Takes its hue from hell's smoulder ! FUST. Too certain ! I sucked — Got drunk at the nipple of sense. SECOND FRIEND. Thou hast ducked — Art drowned there, say rather ! Faugh — fleshly disport ! How else but by help of Sir Belial didst win That Venus-like lady, no drudge of thy sort Could lure to become his accomplice in sin ? Folk nicknamed her Helen of Troy ! FIRST FRIEND. Best begin At the very beginning. Thy father, — all knew, A mere goldsmith . . . FUST. Who knew him, perchance may know this — He dying left much gold and jewels no few : Whom these help to court with, but seldom shall miss The love of a leman : true witchcraft, I wis ! AN EPILOGUE 369 FIKST FRIEND. Dost flout me ? 'T is said, in debauchery's guild Admitted prime guttler and guzzler — swine ! — To honor thy headship, those tosspots so swilled That out of their table there sprouted a vine Whence each claimed a cluster, awaiting thy sign ■ To out knife, off mouthful : when — who could suppose Such malice in magic ? — each sot woke and found Cold steel but an inch from the neighbor's red nose He took for a grape-bunch ! Does that so astound Sagacity such as ye boast, — who -surround Your mate with eyes staring, hairs standing erect At his magical feats ? Are good burghers unversed In the humors of toping ? Full oft, I suspect, Ye, counting your fingers, call thumbkin their first, And reckon a groat every guilder disbursed. What marvel if wags, while the skinker fast brimmed Their glass with rare tipple's enticement, should gloat — Befooled and beflustered — through optics drink-dimmed — On this draught and that, till each found in his throat Our Rhenish smack rightly as Baphal ? For, note — They fancied — their fuddling deceived them so grossly — That liquor sprang out of the table itself Through gimletholes drilled there, — nor noticed how closely The skinker kept plying my guests, from the shelf O'er their heads, with the potable madness. No elf Had need to persuade them a vine rose umbrageous, Fruit-bearing, thirst-quenching ! Enough ! I confess To many such fool-pranks, but none so outrageous That Satan was called in to help me : excess I own to, I grieve at — no more and no less. SECOND FBIEND. Strange honors were heaped on thee — medal for breast, Chain for neck, sword for thigh : not a lord of the land But acknowledged thee peer ! What ambition possessed A goldsmith by trade, with craft's grime on his hand, To seek such associates ? 370 FUST AND HIS FRIENDS FUST. Spare taunts ! Understand — I submit me ! Of vanities under the sun, Pride seized me at last as concupiscence first, Crapulosity ever : true Fiends, everyone, Haled this way and that my poor soul : thus amerced — Forgive and forget me ! FIRST FRIEND. Had flesh sinned the worst, Yet help were in counsel : the Church could absolve : But say not men truly thou barredst escape By signing and sealing . . . SECOND FRIEND. On me must devolve The task of extracting . . . FIRST FRIEND. Shall Barnabites ape Us Dominican experts? SEVENTH FRIEND. Nay, Masters, — agape When Hell yawns for a soul, 't is myself claim the task Of extracting, by just one plain question, God's truth ! Where 's Peter Genesheim thy partner ? I ask ' Why, cloistered up still in thy room, the pale youth Slaves tongue-tied — thy trade brooks no tattling forsooth ! No less he, thy famulus, suffers entrapping, Succumbs to good fellowship : barrel a-broach Runs freely nor needs any subsequent tapping : Quoth Peter " That room, none but I dare approach, Holds secrets will help me to ride in my coach." He prattles, we profit : in brief, he assures Thou hast taught him to speak so that all men may hear — Each alike, wide world over, Jews, Pagans, Turks, Moors, The same as we Christians — speech heard far and near At one and the same magic moment ! AN EPILOGUE 371 FUST. That 's clear ! Said he — how ? SEVENTH FRIEND. Is it like he was licensed to learn ? Who doubts but thou dost this by aid of the Fiend ? Is it so ? So it is, for thou smilest ! Go, burn To ashes, since such proves thy portion, unscreened By bell, book and candle ! Yet lately I weened Balm yet was in Gilead, — some healing in store For the friend of my bosom. Men said thou wast sunk In a sudden despondency : not, as before, Fust gallant and gay with his pottle and punk, But sober, sad, sick as one yesterday drunk ! Spare Fust, then, thus contrite ! — who, youthful and healthy, Equipped for life's struggle with culture of mind, Sound flesh and sane soul in coherence, born wealthy, Nay, wise — how he wasted endowment designed For the glory of God and the good of mankind ! That much were misused such occasions of grace Te well may upbraid him, who bows to the rod. But this should bid anger to pity give place — He has turned from the wrong, in the right path to plod, Makes amends to mankind and craves pardon of God. Yea, friends, even now from my lips the " Heureka — Soul saved ! " was nigh bursting — unduly elate ! Have I brought Man advantage, or hatched — so to speak — a Strange serpent, no cygnet ? 'T is this I debate Within me. Forbear, and leave Fust to his fate ! FIKST FRIEND. So abject, late lofty ? Methiriks I spy respite. Make clean breast, discover what mysteries hide In thy room there ! SECOND FRIEND. Ay, out with them ! Do Satan despite I Remember what caused his undoing was pride ! 372 FUST AND HIS FRIENDS FIRST FRIEND. Dumb devil ! Remains one resource to be tried ! SECOND FRIEND. Exorcise! SEVENTH FRIEND. Nay, first — is there any remembers In substance that potent " Ne pulvis " — a psalm Whereof some live spark haply lurks 'mid the embers Which choke in my brain. Talk of " Gilead and balm " I mind me, sung half through, this gave such a qualm To Asmodeus inside of a Hussite, that, queasy, ' He broke forth in brimstone with curses. I 'm strong In — at least the commencement : the rest should go easy, Friends helping. " Ne pulvis et ignis "... SIXTH FRIEND. FIFTH FRIEND. I 've conned till I captured the whole. All wrong ! SEVENTH FRIEND. Get along ! " Ne pulvis et cinis superbe te geras, Namfulmina" . . . SIXTH FRIEND. Fiddlestick ! Peace, dolts and dorrs ! Thus runs it " Ne Numinis fidmina feras " — Then " Hominis perfidi justa sunt sors Fulmen et grando et horrida mors." SEVENTH FRIEND. You blunder. " Irati ne." . . . SIXTH FRIEND. Mind your own business ! FIFTH FRIEND. I do not so badly, who gained the monk's leave To study an hour his choice parchment. A dizziness May well have surprised me. No Christian dares thieve, Or I scarce had returned him his treasure. These cleave : AN EPILOGUE 373 " Nbs pulvis et cinis, Wementes, gwnentes, Venimus " — some such word — " ad te, Domine I Da lumen, juvamen, ut sancta sequentes Cor . . . cor da "... Plague take it ! SEVENTH FKEEND. — " erecta sint spe : " Bight text, ringing rhyme, and ripe Latin for me ! SIXTH FRIEND. A Canon's self wrote it me fair : I was tempted To part with the sheepskin. SEVENTH FRIEND. Didst grasp and let go Such a godsend, thou Judas ? My purse had been emptied Ere part with the prize ! FUST. Do I dream ? Say ye so ? Clouds break, then ! Move, world ! I have gained my " Pou sto"\ I am saved : Archimedes, salute me ! OMNES. Assistance ! Help, Angels ! He summons . . . Aroint thee ! — by name, His familiar ! FUST. Approach ! OMNES. Devil, keep thy due distance ! FUST. Be tranquillized, townsmen ! The knowledge ye claim Behold, I prepare to impart. Praise or blame, — Your blessing or banning, whatever betide me, At last I accept. The slow travail of years, The long-teeming brain's birth — applaud me, deride me, — At last claims revealment. Wait ! SEVENTH FKIEND. Wait till appears Uncaged Archimedes cooped-up there ? 374 FUST AND HIS FRIENDS SECOND FRIEND. Who fears ? Here 's have at thee ! SEVENTH FRIEND. Correctly now ! " Pidvis et cinis " . . FUST. The verse ye so value, it happens I hold In my memory safe from initium to finis. Word for word, I produce you the whole, plain enrolled, Black letters, white paper — no scribe's red and gold ! OMNES. Aroint thee ! FUST. I go and return. (He enters the inner room.) FIRST FRIEND. Ay, 't is " ibis " No doubt : but as boldly " redibis " — who '11 say ? I rather conjecture " in Oreo peribis / " SEVENTH FRIEND. Come, neighbors ! SIXTH FRIEND. I 'm with you ! Show courage and stay Hell's outbreak ? Sirs, cowardice here wins the day! FIFTH FRIEND. What luck had that student of Bamberg who ventured To peep in the cell where a wizard of note Was busy in getting some black deed debentured By Satan ? In dog's guise there sprang at his throat A flame-breathing fury. Fust favors, I note, An ugly huge lurcher ! SEVENTH FRIEND. If I placed reliance As thou, on the beads thou art telling so fast, I 'd risk just a peep through the keyhole. SIXTH FRIEND. Appliance Of ear might be safer. Five minutes are past. AN EPILOGUE 375 OMNES. Saints,* save us ! The door is thrown open at last ! fust (re-enters, the door closing behind him). As I promised, behold I perform ! Apprehend you The object I offer is poison or pest ? Receive without harm from the hand I extend you A gift that shall set every scruple at rest ! Shrink back from mere paper-strips ? Try them and test ! Still hesitate ? Myk, was it thou who lamentedst Thy five wits clean failed thee to render aright A poem read once and no more ? — who repentedst Vile pelf had induced thee to banish from sight The characters none but our clerics indite ? Take and keep ! FIRST FRIEND. Blessed Mary and all Saints about her ! SECOND FRIEND. "What imps deal so deftly, — five minutes suffice To play thus the penman ? THIRD FRIEND. By Thomas the Doubter, Five minutes, no more ! FOURTH FRIEND. Out on arts that entice hiuch scribes to do homage ! FIFTH FRD3ND. Stay ! Once — and now twice — Yea, a third time, my sharp eye completes the inspection Of line after line, the whole series, and finds Each letter join each — not a fault for detection ! Such upstrokes, such downstrokes, such strokes of all kinds In the criss-cross, all perfect ! SIXTH FRIEND. There 's nobody minds His quill-craft with more of a conscience, o'erscratches A sheepskin more nimbly and surely with ink, 376 FUST AND HIS FRIENDS Than Paul the Suh-Prior : here 's paper that matches His parchment with letter on letter, no link Overleapt — underlost ! SEVENTH FBIEND. No erasure, I think — No blot, I am certain ! FUST. Accept the new treasure ! SIXTH FBIEND. I remembered full half ! SEVENTH FBIEND. But who other than I (Bear witness, bystanders !) when he broke the measure Repaired fault with "fulmen " ? FUST. Put bickerings by ! Here 's for thee — thee — and thee, too : at need a supply (distributing Proofs) For Mayence, though seventy times seven should muster ! How now ? All so feeble of faith that no face Which fronts me but whitens — or yellows, were juster ? Speak out lest I summon my Spirits ! OMNES. Grace — grace ! Call none of thy — helpmates ! "We '11 answer apace ! My paper — and mine — and mine also — they vary In nowise — agree in each tittle and jot ! Fust, how — why was this ? FUST. Shall such " Cur " miss a " quare " 1 Within, there ! Throw doors wide ! Behold who complot To abolish the scribe's work — blur, blunder and blot ! (The doors open, and the Press is discovered in operation.) Brave full-bodied birth of this brain that conceived thee In splendor and music, — sustained the slow drag AN EPILOGUE 377 Of the days stretched to years dim with doubt, — yet believed thee, Had faith in thy first leap of life ! Pulse might flag — — Mine fluttered how faintly ! — Arch-moment might lag Its longest — I bided, made light of endurance, Held hard by the hope of an advent which — dreamed, Is done now : night yields to the dawn's reassurance : I have thee — I hold thee — my fancy that seemed, My fact that proves palpable ! Ay, Sirs, I schemed Completion that 's fact : see this Engine — be witness Yourselves of its working ! Nay, handle my Types ! Each block bears a Letter : in order and fitness I range them. Turn, Peter, the winch ! See, it gripes What 's under ! Let loose — draw ! In regular stripes Lies plain, at one pressure, your poem — touched, tinted, Turned out to perfection ! The sheet, late a blank, Filled — ready for reading, — not written but Printed ! Omniscient omnipotent God, Thee I thank, Thee ever, Thee only ! — Thy creature that shrank From no task Thou, Creator, imposedst ! Creation Revealed me no object, from insect to Man, But bore Thy hand's impress : earth glowed with salvation : " Hast sinned ? Be thou saved, Fust ! Continue my plan, Who spake and earth was : with my word things began. " As sound so went forth, to the sight be extended Word's mission henceforward ! The task I assign, Embrace — thy allegiance to evil is ended ! Have cheer, soul impregnate with purpose ! Combine Soul and body, give birth to my concept — called tbine ! "Far and wide, North and South, East and West, have dominion O'er thought, winged wonder, O Word ! Traverse world In sun-flash and sphere-song ! Each beat of thy pinion Bursts night, beckons day : once Truth's banner unfurled, Where 's Falsehood ? Sun-smitten, to nothingness hurled ! " More humbly — so, friends, did my fault find redemption. I sinned, soul-entoiled by the tether of sense : My captor reigned master : I plead no exemption From Satan's award to his servant : defence From the fiery and final assault would be — whence ? 378 FUST AND HIS FRIENDS By making — as man might — to truth restitution ! Truth is God : trample lies and lies' father, God's foe ! Fix fact fast : truths change by an hour's revolution : What deed's very doer, unaided, can show How 't was done a year — month — week — day — minute ago ? At best, he relates it — another reports it — A third — nay, a thousandth records it : and still Narration, tradition, no step but distorts it, As down from truth's height it goes sliding until At the low level lie-mark it stops — whence no skill Of the scribe, intervening too tardily, rescues — Once fallen — lost fact from lie's fate there. What scribe — Eyes horny with poring, hands crippled with desk-use, Brains fretted by fancies — the volatile tribe That tease weary watchers — can boast that no bribe Shuts eye and frees hand and remits brain from toiling ? Truth gained — can we stay, at whatever the stage, Truth a-slide, — save her snow from its ultimate soiling In mire, — by some process, stamp promptly on page Fact spoiled by pen's plodding, make truth heritage Not merely of clerics but poured out, full measure, On clowns — every mortal endowed with a mind ? Bead, gentle and simple ! Let labor win leisure At last to bid truth do all duty assigned, Not pause at the noble but pass to the hind ! How bring to effect such swift sure simultaneous Unlimited multiplication ? How spread By an arm-sweep a hand-throw — no helping extraneous — Truth broadcast o'er Europe ? " The goldsmith " I said " Graves limning on gold : why not letters on lead ? " So, Tuscan artificer, grudge not thy pardon To me who played false, made a furtive descent, Found the sly secret work-shop, — thy genius kept guard on Too slackly for once, — and surprised thee low-bent O'er thy labor — some chalice thy tool would indent With a certain free scroll-work framed round by a border Of foliage and fruitage : no scratching so fine, No shading so shy but, in ordered disorder, Each flourish came clear, — unbewildered by shine, On the gold, irretrievably right, lay each line. AN EPILOGUE 379 How judge if thy hand worked thy will ? By reviewing, Revising again and again, piece by piece, Tool's performance, — this way, as I watched. 'T was through glueing A paper-like film-stuff — thin, smooth, void of crease, On each cut of the graver : press hard ! at release, No mark on the plate but the paper showed double : His work might proceed : as he judged — space or spec'c Up he filled, forth he flung — was relieved thus from trouble Lest wrong — once — were right never more : what could check Advancement, completion ? Thus lay at my beck — At my call — triumph likewise ! " For " cried I " what hinders That graving turns Printing ? Stamp one word — not one But fifty such, phoenix -like, spring from death's cinders, — Since death is word's doom, clerics hide from the sun As some churl closets up this rare chalice." Go, run Thy race now, Fust's child ! High, O Printing, and holy Thy mission ! These types, see, I chop and I change Till the words, every letter, a pageful, not slowly Yet surely lies fixed : last of all, I arrange A paper beneath, stamp it, loosen it ! FIRST FRIEND. Strange ! SECOND FRIEND. How simple exceedingly ! FUST. Bustle, my Schcefer ! Set type, — quick, Genesheim ! Turn screw now ! THIRD FRIEND. Just that ! FOURTH FRIEND. And no such vast miracle ! FUST. J " Plough with my heifer, Ye find out my riddle," quoth Samson, and pat He speaks to the purpose. Grapes squeezed in the vat 380 FUST AND HIS FRIENDS Yield to sight and to taste what is simple — a liquid Mere urchins may sip : but give time, let ferment — You 've wine, 'manhood's master ! Well, " rectius si quid Novistis vnwper-ti-te 1 " "Wait the event, Then weigh the result ! But, whate'er Thy intent, Thou, the one force in the whole variation Of visible nature, — at work — do I doubt ? — From Thy first to our last, in perpetual creation — A film hides us from Thee — 'twixt inside and out, A film, on this earth where Thou bringest about New marvels, new forms of the glorious, the gracious, We bow to, we bless for : no star bursts heaven's dome But Thy finger impels it, no weed peeps audacious Earth's clay-floor from out, but Thy finger makes room For one world's-want the more in Thy Cosmos : presume Shall Man, Microcosmos, to claim the conception Of grandeur, of beauty, in thought, word or deed ? 1 toiled, but Thy light on my dubiousest step shone : If I reach the glad goal, is it I who succeed Who stumbled at starting tripped up by a reed, Or Thou ? Knowledge only and absolute, glory As utter be Thine who concedest a spark Of Thy spheric perfection to earth's transitory Existences ! Nothing that lives, but Thy mark Gives law to — life's light : what is doomed to the dark ? Where 's ignorance ? Answer, creation ! What height, What depth has escaped Thy commandment — to Know ? What birth in the ore-bed but answers aright Thy sting at its heart which impels — bids " E'en so, Not otherwise move or be motionless, — grow, " Decline, disappear ! " Is the plant in default How to bud, when to branch forth ? The bird and the beast — Do they doubt if their safety be found in assault Or escape ? Worm or fly, of what atoms the least But follows light's guidance, — will famish, not feast ? In such various degree, fly and worm, ore and plant, All know, none is witless : around each, a wall Encloses the portion, or ample or scant, Of Knowledge : beyond which one hair's breadth, for all Lies blank — not so ranch as a blackness — a pall AN EPILOGUE 38 Some sense unimagined must penetrate : plain Is only old license to stand, walk or sit, Move so far and so wide in the narrow domain Allotted each nature for life's use : past it How immensity spreads does he guess ? Not a whit. Does he care ? Just as little. Without ? No, within Concerns him ? he Knows. Man Ignores — thanks to Thee Who madest him know, but — in knowing — begin To know still new vastness of knowledge must be Outside him — to enter, to traverse, in fee Have and hold ! " Oh, Map's ignorance ! " hear the fool whim How were it, for better or worse, didst thou grunt Contented with sapience — the lot of the swine Who knows he was born for just truffles to hunt ? — Monks' Paradise — "Semper sint res uti sunt! " No, Man 's the prerogative — knowledge once gained — To ignore, — find new knowledge to press for, to swerve In pursuit of, no, not for a moment : attained — Why, onward through ignorance ! Dare and deserve ! As still to its asymptote speedeth the curve, So approximates Man — Thee, who, reachable not, Hast formed him to yearningly follow Thy whole Sole and single omniscience ! Such, friends, is my lot : I am back with the world : one more step to the goal Thanks for reaching I render — Fust's help to Man's soul ! Mere mechanical help ? So the hand gives a toss To the falcon, — aloft once, spread pinions and fly, Beat air far and wide, up and down and across ! My Press strains a-tremble : whose masterful eye Will be first, in new regions, new truth to descry ? Give chase, soul ! Be sure each new capture consigned To my Types will go forth to the world, like God's bread — Miraculous food not for body but mind, Truth's manna ! How say you ? Put case that, instead Of old leasing and lies, we superiorly fed These Heretics, Hussites • • . 382 FUST AND HIS FRIENDS FIRST FRIEND. First answer my query ! If saved, art thou happy ? FUST. I was and I am. FIRST FRIEND. Thy visage confirms it : how comes, then, that — weary And woe-begone late — was it show, was it sham ? — We found thee sunk thiswise ? SECOND FRIEND. — In need of the dram From the flask which a provident neighbor might carry ! FUST. Ah, friends, the fresh triumph soon flickers, fast fades ! I hailed Word's dispersion : could heartleaps but tarry ! Through me does Print furnish Truth wings ? The same aids Cause Falsehood to range just as widely. What raids On. a region undreamed of does Printing enable Truth's foe to effect ! Printed leasing and lies May speed to the world's farthest corner — gross fable No less than pure fact — to impede, neutralize, Abolish God's gift and Man's gain ! FIRST FRIEND. Dost surmise What struck me at first blush ? Our Beghards, Waldenses, Jeronimites, Hussites — does one show his head, Spout heresy now ? Not a priest in his senses Deigns answer mere speech, but piles fagots instead, Refines as by fire, and, him silenced, all 's said. Whereas if in future I pen an opuscule Defying retort, as of old when rash tongues Were easy to tame, — straight some knave of the Huss-School Prints answer forsooth ! Stop invisible lungs ? The barrel of blasphemy broached once, who bungs ? AN EPILOGUE 383 SECOND FRIEND. Does my sermon, next Easter, meet fitting acceptance ? _ Each captious disputative boy has his quirk "An cuique credendum sit ? " Well, the Church kept " oris " In order till Fust set his engine at work ! What trash will come flying from Jew, Moor, and Turk When, goosequill, thy reign o'er the world is abolished! Goose — ominous name ! With a goose" woe began : Quoth Huss — which means " goose " in his idiom unpolished — " Ye burn now a Goose : there succeeds me a Swan Ye shall find quench your fire ! " FUST. I foresee such a man. FRAGMENTS WOT HERETOFORE INCLUDED IN AUT COLLECTIVE EDITION BEN KARSHOOK'S WISDOM. (Printed in The Keepsake. 1856.) I. " Would a man 'scape the rod ? " Rabbi Ben Karshook saith, " See that he turn to God The day before bis death." " Ay, could a man inquire When it shall come ! " I say. The Rabbi's eye shoots fire — " Then let him turn to-day ! " n. Quoth a young Sadducee : " Reader of many rolls, Is it so certain we Have, as they tell us, souls ? " " Son, there is no reply ! " The Rabbi bit his beard : " Certain, a soul have I — We may have none," he sneered. Thus Karshook, the Hiram's-Hammer, The Right-hand Temple-column, Taught babes in grace their grammar, And struck the simple, solemn. Home, April 27, 1854. 386 FRAGMENTS OH LOVE! LOVE. [Translation of a lyric in the Hyppolytus of Euripides, and printed by J. P. Mahaffy in his Euripides, 1879.] Oh Love ! Love, thou that from the eyes diffusest Yearning, and on the soul sweet grace inducest — Souls against whom thy hostile march is made — Never to me be manifest in ire, Nor, out of time and tune, my peace invade ! Since neither from the fire — No, nor from the stars — is launched a bolt more mighty Than that of Aphrodite 1 Hurled from the hands of Love, the boy with Zeus for sire. Idly, how idly, by the Alpheian river And in the Pythian shrines of Phoebus, quiver Blood-offerings from the bull, which Hellas heaps : While Love we worship not — the Lord of men ! Worship not him, the very key who keeps Of Aphrodite, when She closes up her dearest chamber-portals : — Love, when he comes to mortals, Wide-wasting, through those deeps of woes beyond the deep ! HELEN'S TOWER. [ Written at the request of the Earl of Dufferin and Clandeboye, who had built a tower to the memory of his mother, Helen, Countess of Giffard, on a rock on his estate at Clandeboye, Ireland, and printed in the Pall Mall Gazette of December 28, 1883.] Who hears of Helen's Tower, may dream perchance How the Greek Beauty from the Scsean Gate Gazed on old friends unanimous in hate, Death-doom'd because of her fair countenance. • Hearts would leap otherwise, at thy advance, Lady, to whom this Tower is consecrate ! Like hers, thy face once made all eyes elate, Yet, unlike hers, was bless'd by every glance. WHY I AM A LIBERAL 387 The Tower of Hate is outworn, far and strange : A transitoiy shame of long ago, It dies into the sand from which it sprang ; But thine, Love's rock-built Tower, shalt fear no change : God's self laid stable earth's foundation so, When all the morning-stars together sang. April 26, 1870. THE FOUNDER OF THE FEAST. [Inscribed in an Album presented to Mr. Arthur Chappell, of the St James Hall Saturday and Monday popular concerts.] " Enter my palace," if a prince should say — " Feast with the Painters ! See, in bounteous row, They range from Titian up to Angelo ! " Could we be silent at the rich survey ? A host so kindly, in as great a way Invites to banquet, substitutes, for show Sound that 's diviner still, and bids us know Bach like Beethoven ; are we thankless, pray ? Thanks, then, to Arthur Chappell, — thanks to him Whose every guest henceforth not idly vaunts " Sense has received the utmost Nature grants, My cup was filled with rapture to the brim, When, night by night, — ah, memory, how it haunts ! — Music was poured by perfect ministrants, By Halle, Schumann, Piatti, Joachim. April 5, 1884 WHY I AM A LIBERAL. [Contributed to a volume of same title, edited by Andrew Eeid, and published by Cassell and Co., 1885.] " Why ? " Because all I haply can and do, All that I am now, all I hope to be, — • Whence comes it save from fortune setting free Body and soul the purpose to pursue, God traced for both ? If fetters, not a few, Of prejudice, convention, fall from me, 388 FRA GMENTS These shall I bid men — each in his degree Also God-guided — bear, and gayly too ? But little do or can the best of us : That little is achieved through Liberty. Who, then, dares hold, emancipated thus — His fellow shall continue bound ? Not I, Who live, love, labor freely, nor discuss A brother's right to freedom. That is " Why.' INDEX OF FIRST LINES About that strangest, saddest, sweetest song, iv. 263. A certain neighbor lying sick to death, vi. 246. Ah, but — because you were struck blind, could bless, vi. 343. Ah, but how each loved each, Marquis, vi. 202. Ah, did you once see Shelley plain, ii. 89. Ah, George Bubb Doddington Lord Melcombe, — no, vi. 319. Ah, Love, but a day, iv. 153. A king lived long ago, i. 356. All I believed is true, ii. 243. All I can say is — I saw it ! v. 345. All June I bound the rose in sheaves, ii. 75. All service ranks the same with God, i. 331. All 's over then : does truth sound bitter, ii. 20. All that I know, ii. 58. Among these latter busts we count by scores, ii. 320. And so, here happily we meet, fair friend, v. 1. And so you found that poor room dull, v. 351. And the font took them : let our laurels lie ! i. 238. And what might that bold man's announcement be, vi. 248. Anyhow, once full Dervish, youngsters came, vi. 242. A Babbi told me : On the day allowed, vi. 181. As I ride, as I ride, ii. 6. Ask not one least word of praise, vi. 271. " Aa like as a Hand to another Hand ! " iv. 161. " Ay, but, Ferishtah " — a disciple smirked, vi. 265. Ay, this same midnight, by this chair of mine, vi. 295. Beautiful Evelyn Hope is dead ! ii. 23. Boot, saddle, to horse, and away ! ii. 2. But do not let us quarrel any more, iv. 83. But give them me, the mouth, the eyes, the brow ! iv. 217. Christ God, who savest man, save most, ii. 234._ Cleon the poet, from the sprinkled isles, iv. 115. Come close to me, dear friends ; still closer ; thus ! i. 27. Could I but live again, v. 342. Dared and done : at last I stand upon the summit, Dear and True, vi. 54 Day ! Faster and more fast, i. 327. Dear and great Angel, would'st thou only leave, n. 88. Dear, had the world in its caprice, u. 79. Dervish — though yet un-dervished, call him so, vi. 240. Don, the divinest women that have walked, vi. 308. 390 INDEX OF FIRST LINES " Enter my palace," if a prince should say, vi. 387. Escape me ? ii. 80. " Fame ! " Yes, I said it and you read it. First, vi. 77. Fear death ? — to feel the fog in my throat, iv. 216. Fee, f aw, f una ! bubble and squeak ! ii. 316. Fire is in the flint : true, once a spark escapes, vi. 252. First I salute this soil of the blessed, river and rock, vi. 124 Flame at thy footfall, Parnassus ! Apollo, vi. 285. Flower — I never fancied, jewel — I profess you ! v. 346. Fortiu, Fortu, my beloved one, ii. 257. Give her but a least excuse to love me, i. 348. Going his rounds one day in Ispahan, vi. 241. Good, to forgive, vi. 53. Grand rough old Martin Luther, ii. 276. Grow old along with me ! iv. 185. Gr-r-r — there go, my heart's abhorrence ! ii. 12. Had I but plenty of money, money enough and to spare, ii. 32. Hamelin Town 's in Brunswick, ii. 281. Heap cassia, sandal-buds and stripes, i. 90. "Heigho," yawned one day King Francis, ii. 247. Here is a story, shall stir you ! Stand up, Greeks dead and gone, vi. 153. Here is a thing that happened. Like wild beasts whelped, for den, vi. 128, Here 's my case. Of old I used to love him, v. 344. Here '3 the garden she walked across, ii. 8. Here was I with my arm and heart, iv. 178. High in the dome, suspended, of Hell, sad triumph, behold us, vi. 207. Hist, but a word, fair and soft ! ii. 92. How of his fate, the Pilgrims' soldier-guide, vi. 257. How strange ! — but, first of all, the little fact, vi. 354. How very hard it is to be, iv. 31. How well I know what I mean to do, ii. 59. I am a goddess of the ambrosial courts, iv. 61. I am a painter who cannot paint, i. 347. I am indeed the personage you know, v. 358. I am poor brother Lippo, by your leave ! iv. 74. I and Clive were friends — and why not ? vi. 154. I could have painted pictures like that youth's, iv. 72. I dream of a red-rose tree, ii. 84. If a stranger passed the tent of Hoseyn, he cried " A churl's ! " vi. 163. If one could have that little head of hers, iv. 219. I hear a voice, perchance I heard, i. 52. I know a Mount, the gracious Sun perceives, iv. 123. I leaned on the turf, iv. 157- I— " Next Poet ? " No, my hearties, v. 332. I only knew one poet in my life, iv. 58. I said — Then, dearest, since 't is so, ii. 278. Is all our fire of shipwreck wood, iv. 154. I send my heart up to thee, all my heart, ii. 263. Is it the same Sordello in the dusk, i. 284. I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he, ii. 4. It is a lie — their Priests, their Pope, ii. 15. It once might have been, once only, iv. 217. It seems as if ... or did the actual chance, vi. 312. It was roses, roses, all the way, ii. 232. INDEX OF FIRST LINES 391 I 've a Friend, over the sea, ii. 251. I will be quiet and talk with you, iv. 156. I wish that when you died last May, iv. 215. I wonder do you feel to-day, ii. 71. June was not over, ii. 76. Just for a handful of silver he left us, ii. 3. Karshish, the picker-up of learning's crumbs, iv. 64. Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King, ii. 1. King Charles, and who '11 do him right now ? ii. 2. ' ' Knowledge deposed, then ! " — groaned whom that most grieved, vi. 267. Let 's contend no more, Love, ii. 22. Let them fight it out, friend ! things have gone too far, ii. 86. Let the watching lids wink ! i. 332. Let us begin and carry up this corpse, ii. 310. Look, I strew beans, vi. 271. Man I am and man would be, Love — merest man and nothing more, vi. 248. May I print, Shelley, how it came to pass, v. 368. Meantime Ferrara lay in rueful case, i. 261. Morning, evening, noon and night, ii. 238. Moses the Meek was thirty cubits high, vi. 234. My first thought was, he lied in every word, ii. 330. My grandfather says he remembers he saw, when a youngster long ago, vi. 117. My heart sank with our claret-flask, ii. 7. My love, this is the bitterest, that thou, ii. 67. Nay but you, who do not love her, ii. 21. Nay, that, Furini, never I at least, vi. 328. Never any more, ii. 82. Never the time and the place, vi. 235. "No, boy, we must not " — so began, v. 375. Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-West died away, ii. 46. No, for I'll save it! Seven years since, iv. 257. No more wine ? then we '11 push back chairs, and talk, iv. 91. No protesting, dearest, v. 351. Not with my Soul, Love ! — bid no soul like mine, vi. 267. Now, don't, sir ! Don't expose me ! Just this once ! iv. 222. Now that I, tying thy glass mask tightly, ii. 14. bell' andare, i. 183. but is it not hard, Dear ? vi. 206. Of the million or two, more or less, ii. 241. , Oh Galuppi, Baldassaro, this is very sad to find !_ n.