Cornell University Library 
 PR 6003.I63D2 
 
 The death of Adam, and other poems. 
 
 3 1924 013 589 019 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013589019 
 
THE DEATH OF ADAM 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
THE DEATH OF ADAM 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY LAURENCE BINYON 
 
 METHUEN & CO. 
 
 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 1904 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 THE DEATH OF ADAM . 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 TO THE SUMMER NIGHT 
 
 
 26 
 
 THE SNOWS OF SPRING . 
 
 
 
 30 
 
 A VISION OF RESURRECTION 
 
 
 
 34 
 
 "queen VENUS ON A DAY OF CLOUD" 
 
 
 
 37 
 
 THE BELFRY . 
 
 
 
 40 
 
 LOOK NOT TOO DEEP 
 
 
 
 44 
 
 HAREBELL AND PANSY . 
 
 
 
 45 
 
 GRIEF 
 
 
 
 46 
 
 LAMENT 
 
 
 
 47 
 
 SURSUM cor! . 
 
 
 
 48 
 
 EUROPE, MDCCCCI. (TO NAPOLEON) 
 
 
 
 49 
 
 UMBRIA 
 
 
 
 54 
 
 S. FRANCESCO DEL DESERTO 
 
 
 
 56 
 
 A DREAM 
 
 
 
 58 
 
 THE TUNNEL . 
 
 
 
 59 
 
 AN HOUR 
 
 
 
 60 
 
 AT EVENING . 
 
 
 
 6i 
 
 A HYMN OF LOVE 
 
 
 
 63 
 
 BAHRAM THE HUNTER . 
 
 
 65 
 
 THE DESERTED PALACE . 
 
 
 70 
 
 SANTA CRISTINA 
 
 
 83 
 
 WORDS .... 
 
 94 
 
 A PRAYER TO TIME 
 
 
 
 95 
 
TO C. M. P. 
 
 Love, in whose heart-murmured name 
 Is charm against life's endless wrong, 
 Since all the untuned world became 
 
 In you a song I 
 
 T bring not only all I wrought 
 Into the faltering words of speech, 
 
 1 dedicate the song I sought 
 Yet could not reach. 
 
 Nay, all that passionately fired 
 My heart with hope for ever new 
 Of unattained, but deep-desired 
 Beauty, to you. 
 
 1 6 August, 1903 
 
THE DEATH OF ADAM 
 
 Cedars, that high upon the untrodden slopes 
 
 Of Lebanon stretch out their stubborn arms, 
 
 Through all the tempests of seven hundred years 
 
 Fast in their ancient place, where they look down 
 
 Over the Syrian plains and faint blue sea, 
 
 When snow for three days and three nights hath fall'n 
 
 Continually, and heaped those terraced boughs 
 
 To massy whiteness, still in fortitude 
 
 Maintain their aged strength, although they groan ; 
 
 In such a wintriness of majesty, 
 
 O'ersnowed by his uncounted years, and scarce 
 
 Supporting that hard load, yet not o'ercome, 
 
 Was Adam : all his knotted thews were shrunk. 
 
 Hollow his mighty thighs, toward which his beard, 
 
 Pale as the stream of far-seen waterfalls, 
 
 Hung motionless ; betwixt the shoulders grand 
 
 Bowed was the head, and dim the gaze ; and both 
 
 His heavy hands lay on his marble knees. 
 
 So sits he all day long and scarcely stirs. 
 
 And scarcely notes the bright shapes of his sons 
 
 Moving in the broad light without his tent, 
 
 B 
 
2 THE DEATH OF ADAM 
 
 That propt on poles about a giant oak 
 
 Looks southward to the river and the vale : 
 
 Only sometimes slowly he turns his head, 
 
 As seeking to recover some lost thought 
 
 From the dear presence of the white-haired Eve 
 
 Who, less in strength, hath less endured, and still 
 
 With slow and careful footsteps tendeth him. 
 
 Or seated opposite with silent eyes 
 
 Companions him ; their thoughts go hand in hand. 
 
 So now she sits reposing in the dusk 
 
 Of their wide tent, like a great vision throned 
 
 Of the Earth Mother, tranquil and august, 
 
 Accorded to some youthful votary 
 
 Deep in an Asian grove, under the moon. 
 
 Peace also rests on Adam ; not such peace 
 
 As comes forlornly to men dulled with cares. 
 
 Whom no ennobling memory uplifts ; 
 
 Peace of a power far mightier than his own. 
 
 Outlasting all it fostered into life, 
 
 Pervades him and sustains him : such a peace 
 
 As blesses mossed and mouldering architraves 
 
 Of pillars standing few among the wreck 
 
 Of many long since fallen, pillars old. 
 
 Reared by a race long vanished, where the birds 
 
 Nest as in trees, and every crevice flowers. 
 
 As mothering Earth, having some time indulged 
 
 Men's little uses, makes their ruin fair 
 
 Ere in her bosom it be folded up. 
 
THE DEATH OF ADAM 3 
 
 Thus Adam's mind relinquishing the world, 
 
 That grows more dim around him every day, 
 
 Withdraws into itself, and in degree 
 
 As all that mates him to the moving hours, 
 
 Even as his outward joy and vigour fail. 
 
 So surely turns his homing spirit back 
 
 Unto those silent sources whence delight 
 
 And hope and strength and buoyancy of old 
 
 Flowed fresh upon his youth, persisting still 
 
 To seek those first and fairest memories 
 
 In youth and sunshine O how lightly lost. 
 
 How difficult in darkness to regain ! 
 
 He sits in idle stillness, yet at times 
 
 From the dark wells of musing some old hour 
 
 Floats upward, as the tender lotus lifts 
 
 Her swaying stalk up through the limpid depth 
 
 Of pools in rivers never known to man, 
 
 And buoyed on idle wet luxurious leaves 
 
 Peacefully opens white bloom after bloom. 
 
 He is rapt far from this last shore of age ; 
 
 He sees the face of Eve as she approached 
 
 To bring him flowers new-found in Paradise, 
 
 Or hiding her young sorrow on his breast ; 
 
 And Abel as a child and Cain with him 
 
 Playing beneath the shadow of old trees, 
 
 All dearer by the desert interposed 
 
 Of time and toil and passionate regret. 
 
 Troubling his inmost spirit, until his face. 
 
 Wrought with remembrance and with longing, wears 
 
4 THE DEATH OF ADAM 
 
 The pressure and the sign of all that swells 
 And brims his heart, fain to be freed in speech. 
 
 " What ails thee, Adam ? " gentle Eve began. 
 
 "Why art thou troubled, what thoughts vex thy mind? 
 
 For though my eyes are dim, yet I can see 
 
 Thy breast heaves upward, and long sighs go forth. 
 
 And thou dost move thy hands, and shake thy head.' 
 
 But Adam answered not ; he seemed alone. 
 
 Then, lifting up his eyes, he saw his sons 
 
 Slowly approaching in the evening light 
 
 With all their flocks ; and many voices rose 
 
 On the clear air about the tents and trees, 
 
 As they made ready for the sacrifice 
 
 Before the evening meal : soon they drew near 
 
 To Adam's tent ; and he looked on them all, 
 
 Standing to wait his blessing, of all years, 
 
 From the boy Adriel to the aged Seth, 
 
 Outlined with glory by the sinking sun. 
 
 Strange in their strength and beauty they appeared ; 
 
 And Adam, though he saw them, seemed to gaze 
 
 Beyond them, seeking what he found not there. 
 
 Over them all his eyes unresting roved, 
 
 While they in silence waited for his word. 
 
 At last he spoke : " Where is my first-born Cain ? " 
 
 They looked on one another. Few had heard 
 
 That darkened name ; but Eve bowed down her head. 
 
 And Seth stood forth amid them hushed and spoke 
 
 With a grave utterance, " Cain is far away. 
 
THE DEATH OF ADAM 5 
 
 Thou knowest, O my father, how we have heard 
 That far beyond the mountains to the east 
 He dwells, and ever wanders o'er that land. 
 Many days' journey must a man be gone 
 Ere he reach thither and return again ; 
 Nor know we certainly where Cain may dwell. 
 Yet what thou biddest, that shall be performed ; 
 Shall we send to him ? " Adam answered, " Send : 
 Let them go quickly, see that they make haste. 
 But on the tenth day bid them come again, 
 Whether they have found him, or have found him not. 
 For mine eyes fail, yea, and my heart grows cold." 
 
 Heavy as pale clouds of October roll 
 
 Over the soaring snows of Ararat, 
 
 The vapour of oblivion fell once more 
 
 Down over Adam's head, in languor drooped 
 
 Between his mighty shoulders on his breast. 
 
 From morn to night, from night to morn he sat 
 
 As in a trance of deep thought undivined. 
 
 His children looking on his face were filled 
 
 With desolation and disquietude, 
 
 Sad as Armenian shepherds when they watch 
 
 For the still clouds to roll from those great peaks. 
 
 Praying the clear bright North winds to restore 
 
 Their guardian mountain ; with such heavy hearts 
 
 They waited for his face to give a sign 
 
 That still gave none. Listless amid their toil 
 
 They grew, and sitting idle by their flocks 
 
6 THE DEATH OF ADAM 
 
 Each from his station, scattered on the hills, 
 
 Turned often to the east, in hope to spy 
 
 The messengers returning : but at eve 
 
 While the grey-bearded elders patient sat 
 
 In the cool tent-doors, they would pace the shore 
 
 Under the gathering stars, and murmured low 
 
 One to another saying, " What is this 
 
 That comes upon us all, what evil thing 
 
 Whereof we have not heard ? What cloud is fallen 
 
 Upon our father Adam, and why seeks he 
 
 This Cain whose name we know not ? Peace is gone. 
 
 And nothing now is as it was before." 
 
 And others answered, " Well for us, if they 
 
 Whom we have sent on such a hazard come 
 
 Ever again or we behold them more ! 
 
 Would they had never gone on this dark quest ! 
 
 We have no hunters brave and swift as they, — 
 
 Ophir, that was the strongest of us all. 
 
 And Iddo, that could match the eagle's sight." 
 
 Thus the young men spoke their despondent mind. 
 
 But every morn renewing wearied hope 
 
 They turned with the sunrising to the east. 
 
 And numbered the long hours till noon, and still 
 
 Nor morn nor noon brought tidings ; and each eve 
 
 Watching tall herons by the sandy pools 
 
 Widen their wings and slow with trailing feet 
 
 And lifted head sail off into the sky. 
 
 They followed them with long and silent thoughts 
 
 Over the darkening mountains, far and far 
 
THE DEATH OF ADAM 7 
 
 Into that never yet imagined world 
 
 Beginning to oppress them ; whither now 
 
 Their fears went wandering through enormous night. 
 
 Thus waxed and waned each heavy day ; at last 
 
 From mouth to mouth the unquiet murmur ran, 
 
 " 'Tis the ninth evening, and they are not come ! " 
 
 The kingly star had stolen from his throne 
 
 In the first brightening of the morrow morn : 
 
 And far in the east, with frail cloud overspread. 
 
 Light hovered in the pale immensity, 
 
 A mile-broad shade beneath the, mountain slept ; 
 
 But opposite a dewy glimmer soon 
 
 Moulded the shapes of rough crags, and beneath 
 
 Strewn boulders, and thin streams, and slopes obscure. 
 
 There, on the slopes amid the rocks appeared 
 
 The youth of Adam's race, assembled forms 
 
 Sitting or standing with hand-shaded eyes 
 
 At gaze into the eastern gorge, where hills 
 
 Between dark shoulders inaccessible 
 
 Opened a narrowing way into the dawn. 
 
 Stiller than statues, yet with beating hearts 
 
 They waited while the wished light kindled clear. 
 
 Invading that deep valley, until the sun 
 
 Flamed warm upon their limbs through coloured air. 
 
 And slow rose upward : it was nigh to noon : 
 
 At last a motion on the horizon stirred 
 
 And a faint dust in the far gorge was blown. 
 
 Then those that sat rose up and gazed erect, 
 
8 THE DEATH OF ADAM 
 
 And those that stood moved and stept on a pace. 
 And as they watched amid the shining dust 
 Two far-off forms appeared, but only two. 
 Their straining eyes watched, but no other came. 
 A sigh ran through their troubled ranks, they turned 
 To one another, then again to those 
 Two lonely journeyers downcast and slow. 
 Who now discerned them from afar and raised 
 Their hands in greeting ; then some ran, with cakes 
 Of bread, and skins of milk, and honeycombs, 
 Down the great slope to meet the messengers ; 
 And others climbed the ridge and backward ran 
 Down to the tents, the river, and the vale. 
 And came to where Seth sat beneath a tree 
 Waiting, with folded arms, and cried to him, 
 " They come, they come ; but Cain comes not with 
 
 them." 
 Then Seth arose and came to Adam's tent. 
 And stood before his father in the door. 
 Eve questioning sought his eyes : he shook his head 
 And looked on Adam ; motionless he sat 
 Plunged in a trance, yet dimly was aware 
 Of tidings, as he heard the voice of Seth, 
 " 'Tis the tenth morning, and thy sons return." 
 Faintly by imperceptible degrees 
 Light stole o'er Adam's features, and Seth saw 
 The wellings of his troubled mind on them. 
 As one who in a cavern lifts a torch 
 And sees the gradual recesses grow 
 
THE DEATH OF ADAM 9 
 
 Out of their ancient gloom, uncertain shapes 
 
 Of rugged roof and walls without an end : 
 
 So dark from innermost obscurity 
 
 The slumbrous memories of Adam rose 
 
 And on his face appeared : yet still a veil 
 
 Remained betwixt his senses and the world ; 
 
 When now the noise of many feet drew nigh 
 
 Softly approaching : and Seth spoke again, 
 
 " Behold ! thy sons, thy messengers are here." 
 
 He drew the matted curtains of the tent 
 
 Aside, and Adam raised his head and saw 
 
 All his assembled children coming on. 
 
 Hushing their steps in awe ; they stopped at gaze 
 
 Now as his eyes were on them ; but before 
 
 Came the two messengers and stood alone, 
 
 How soiled and burnt with travel ! Round the neck 
 
 Of Ophir hung the leopard's spotty hide 
 
 Stripped from that fierce beast strangled by his hand, 
 
 Torn now and stained ; neither had paused to wash 
 
 The thick dust from his feet ; but Iddo held 
 
 A spray of leaves new-plucked to freshen him 
 
 Seared on the parching mountain ; thus they stood 
 
 With troubled countenance and hanging head 
 
 Till Ophir spoke ; all listened rapt and still. 
 
 " Father, we went ; and lo, we are come back 
 
 On the tenth morn, according to thy word. 
 
 For we have sought Cain but have found him not. 
 
 We passed beyond the mountains and we crossed 
 
 The sultry desert, toiling in hot sands 
 
lo THE DEATH OF ADAM 
 
 Two heavy days, and thence with difficulty 
 
 Climbed the far ridge unto the land beyond. 
 
 It is a land not fruitful like our vale, 
 
 Barren it is with short grass and few trees ; 
 
 On the fifth day we came into the midst 
 
 Of that bare country and we saw no man, 
 
 Nor knew we whither to direct our steps, 
 
 When on a slope at unawares we spied 
 
 A sheepfold made of stones, and Lo ! we said 
 
 To one another, Surely he was here. 
 
 Then eagerly we climbed the highest hill 
 
 And all around gazed long, but saw no more. 
 
 But toward the evening, when the light was low 
 
 And the extremest mountains grew distinct, 
 
 Far off in the clear air, but very far. 
 
 We saw a little smoke go up to heaven, 
 
 And we cried out. It is the home of Cain ! 
 
 But deeply we were troubled and perplext. 
 
 For we were faint and footsore, and thy word 
 
 Lay heavy on our thoughts, remembering it. 
 
 On the tenth morning see that ye be here ! 
 
 Surely our hearts were eager to go on ; 
 
 But thinking of thy word we feared to go. 
 
 And hardly even now are we returned. 
 
 Father, we did thy bidding. Is it well ? " 
 
 All gathered nearer, hushed and wistful ; all 
 
 Awaited Adam's voice, but he was mute. 
 
 They would have prayed him, but they ventured not; 
 
 Like hunters that at hot noon, lost in woods. 
 
THE DEATH OF ADAM ii 
 
 Pressing through boughs and briers, at unawares 
 
 Come on the huge throat of a hollow cliff 
 
 Ribbed with impending ledges of wet moss, 
 
 Whence in a smooth-lipped basin of black stone 
 
 Some secret water wells without a sound : 
 
 Then sorely though they thirst they fear to drink, 
 
 Awed by the mystery of that silent source, 
 
 So these awhile with beating hearts delayed 
 
 To speak, awaiting what his words might be. 
 
 At last he raised his head and turned his eyes 
 
 On Eve, and looked upon her long, while she 
 
 On him hung gazing : light began to burn 
 
 In his dimmed eyes, and his whole frame was wrought 
 
 With the stirring of his spirit, as of old. 
 
 At length the thoughts were kindled on his tongue : 
 
 He lifted up his voice and cried aloud. 
 
 " O that mine eyes had seen thee once again, 
 Cain, that my hands had blessed thee ! Thou art gone. 
 For ever gone, and still that curse abides 
 On thee who wast my joy, my first-born child. 
 Eve, Eve, hast thou forgotten that far hour. 
 When our first child, our baby newly-born, 
 Held up his little and defenceless hands 
 Crying toward thy bosom ?" And Eve sighed : 
 " Surely my bosom hath not forgotten Cain, 
 Who sucked the tender first milk from its paps. 
 His feet are worn, wandering the desert wide, 
 But I have washed them with my tears in dreams. 
 
12 THE DEATH OF ADAM 
 
 O, in my heart he has not left his home. 
 
 Would I might lay my arms about him now ! 
 
 Yet why, O Adam, utterest thou these thoughts ? 
 
 Thou knowest how betwixt us and our son 
 
 There lies a land we may not overleap 
 
 More than the flames of those exiling swords. 
 
 Because of our fault, Adam, and of his. 
 
 Why dost thou waken this our ancient pain ?" 
 
 But Adam still uplifted his lament : 
 
 " He is gone from us, gone beyond our reach, 
 
 Beyond our yearning, he remembers not 
 
 These arms that were around his weakness once, 
 
 These hands that fed him and that fostered him 
 
 And now would bless him. All these have I blessed 
 
 With many blessings, but him whom I cursed 
 
 Him would I bless at last, and be at peace. 
 
 He is gone from me, and now these also go 
 
 Whither I know not, and I fear for them. 
 
 How often have I seen them going forth 
 
 Into the woods upon these hills, how oft 
 
 See them with night returning, but now they 
 
 Depart for ever and return no more." 
 
 Eve wondering replied with earnest voice, 
 
 " Behold them„Adam, they are very fair 
 
 And strong with all the strength that we have lost. 
 
 What ill shall harm them more than hath harmed us ? 
 
 Remember how when I was used to fear, 
 
 Beholding our first child in his soft youth 
 
 Go from us on his tender feet alone — 
 
THE DEATH OF ADAM 13 
 
 His tender feet a little stone might bruise, 
 
 And would have caught him back to my fond breast, 
 
 Thou didst rebuke me, saying it must be 
 
 That he go forth alone ; now thou dost fear, 
 
 When these are strong and we can help no more." 
 
 But Adam shook his head and answered not. 
 
 For he was like a shepherd who hath lit 
 
 A fire to warm him on the mountain side 
 
 In the first chill after the summer heats. 
 
 And drowsing by the embers wakes anon 
 
 With wonder-frighted eyes, to see the sparks 
 
 Blowing astray run kindling over grass 
 
 And withered heath and bushes of dry furze, 
 
 And ere his heavy senses, pricked with smoke, 
 
 Uncloud, the white fire rushes from his reach. 
 
 Leaps to embrace the tall pines, tossing up 
 
 A surge of trembling stars, and eagerly 
 
 Roars through their topmost branches, wide aflame, 
 
 While all around enormous shadows rock 
 
 And wrestle, as tumultuous light o'errides 
 
 The darkness as with charging spears and plumes. 
 
 Till the whole hillside reddens, and beyond 
 
 Far mountains waken flushed out of the night : 
 
 Then he who ignorantly had started up 
 
 This wild exulting glory from its sleep 
 
 Forgets to stir his steps or wring his hands ; 
 
 The swiftness and the radiance and the sound 
 
 Beget a kind of rapture in his dread ; 
 
14 THE DEATH OF ADAM 
 
 Like that amazed shepherd Adam saw 
 
 His race, sprung out of darkness, fill the earth 
 
 Increasing swift and terrible like fire 
 
 That feeds on all it ruins, wave on wave 
 
 Streaming impetuous without rest or pause 
 
 Right onward to the boundaries of the world : 
 
 And he how helpless who had caused it all ! 
 
 So stood his soul still in a gaze of awe 
 
 Filled with the foretaste of calamity : 
 
 And his lips broke into a groaning cry. 
 
 " What is this thing that I have done, what doom, 
 
 What boundless and irrevocable doom, 
 
 My children, have I wakened for you all ? 
 
 O could I see the end, but end is none. 
 
 My thoughts are carried from me, and they faint, 
 
 As birds that come from out the farthest sky, 
 
 Voyaging to a home far, far beyond, 
 
 Sink in our valley on a drooping wing 
 
 Quite wearied out, yea, we have seen them sink, 
 
 So my thoughts faint within my bosom old ; 
 
 The vision is too vast, I am afraid." 
 
 But understanding nothing of his speech. 
 
 That yet seemed opening some mysterious door 
 
 Disclosing an horizon all unknown, 
 
 His children listened, touched to trouble vague 
 
 And longing without name : like travellers 
 
 Who in a company together pass 
 
 On some spring evening by an upland road. 
 
THE DEATH OF ADAM 15 
 
 And as they travel, each in thought immersed, 
 Rich merchants, wise in profitable cares, 
 Adventurous youths, and timorous old men. 
 Through deepening twilight the young rising moon 
 Begins to cast along them a mild gleam. 
 And shadows trembling from the wayside trees 
 In early leaf steal forward on the ground 
 Beside them, and faint balm is past them blown ; 
 All troubles them with beauty fresh and strange. 
 Stealing their thoughts away ; so tenderly 
 Were Adam's children troubled when they heard. 
 
 Long silence fell. At last with heavy voice 
 
 And weakened utterance Adam spoke again : 
 
 " My children, bring me fruits and bring me flowers, 
 
 Set them within my sight that I may see 
 
 And touch them, and their sweetness smell once more." 
 
 They hasted and plucked flowers and gathered fruit 
 
 Such as their valley yielded ; balsam boughs, 
 
 Late roses, darkly flushed, or honey-pale, 
 
 And heavy clustered grapes, and yellowing gourds. 
 
 Plump figs, and dew-moist apples, and smooth pears. 
 
 All these they brought and heaped before his sight. 
 
 Voyagers in the utmost seas, when ice 
 
 Pinions their vessel fast and they prepare 
 
 For the blind frozen winter's boundless night, 
 
 How jealously they watch the last low rays, 
 
 How from the loftiest vantage in their view 
 
 Cherish the rosy warmth still on their limbs, 
 
i6 THE bEATH OF ADAM 
 
 Tarrying until the bright rim wholly dips ! 
 
 Adam, by huger darkness overhung, 
 
 So longed to taste life warm even to the last ; 
 
 And fostering those fair flowers upon his lap 
 
 And holding a gold apple in his hand 
 
 Remembered Eden. O what blissful light 
 
 Flowed o'er his heart and bathed it in its beams ! 
 
 It seemed the deep recesses of his soul 
 
 Welled up their inmost wisdom at the last : 
 
 He glowed with some transfiguring fire ; his lips 
 
 Moved, and his face uplifted was inscribed 
 
 With mighty thoughts, that thus at length unrolled 
 
 Their solemnly assembled syllables. 
 
 " Look well on me, my children, whom ye lose ! 
 Behold these eyes that have wept tears for you. 
 Behold these arms that have long toiled for you ! — 
 These hands in Paradise have gathered flowers ; 
 These limbs, which ye have seen so wasted down 
 In feebleness, so utterly brought low. 
 They grew not into^ stature like your limbs. 
 I wailed not into this great world a child 
 Helpless and speechless, understanding naught, 
 But from God's rapture perfect and full-grown 
 I suddenly awoke out of the dark. 
 How sweet a languor did enrich the blood 
 In my warmed veins, as on my opening eyes 
 The splendour of the world shone slowly in, 
 Mingling its radiant colours in my soul ! 
 
THE DEATH OF ADAM 17 
 
 Yea, in my soul and only in my soul 
 
 I deemed them to abide : sky, water, trees, 
 
 The moving shadows and the tender light, 
 
 This solid earth, this wide and teeming earth, 
 
 Which we have trodden, weary step by step. 
 
 Nor found beginning of an end of it, 
 
 I deemed it all abounding in my brain : 
 
 The murmur of the waters and the winds 
 
 Seemed but a music sighing from my joy ; 
 
 Then I arose, and ventured forth afoot ; 
 
 And soon, how soon, was dispossessed of all ! 
 
 By every step I travelled into truth 
 
 That stripped me of my proud dreams, one by one, 
 
 Till all were taken. On such faltering feet 
 
 By gradual but most certain steps I came 
 
 Into my real and perfect solitude, 
 
 Alone amid the world that knew not me. 
 
 O Eve, thou knowest what I tell not now. 
 
 How I was comforted, and all the woe 
 
 That fell on our transgression ; yet not less 
 
 When that first child lay babbling on thy knees. 
 
 Then again said I, ' Surely this is mine.' 
 
 And you, my children, whom I saw increase 
 
 Around me, stronger as my strength decayed. 
 
 How often have I called you also mine ! 
 
 But now my first-born is not any more. 
 
 Or wanders lost from me, and ye, ye too 
 
 Go from me over earth, forgetting me. 
 
 So surely I perceive, for all that I 
 
i8 THE DEATH OF ADAM 
 
 In joy begot you, ye are mine no more. 
 
 But ye, who seem the proud and easy lords 
 
 Of this fair earth, ye too must tread the path 
 
 Which I trod in my ignorant longing, lose 
 
 What I have lost, and find what I have found. 
 
 What seek you, O my children, what seek you ? 
 
 For I behold you in this narrow vale. 
 
 That mountains and deep forests compass round 
 
 Filled with desires. Beyond is all the world 
 
 That hardly shall content them ; ye must go 
 
 Forth into that vast world, as from my feet 
 
 This water glides, we know not whither ; yea. 
 
 Even as this stream is prisoned in its speed. 
 
 So shall ye be imprisoned in desire. 
 
 But when you have imagined peace and balm 
 
 For your endeavour, musing, ' This is mine,' 
 
 When you shall say, ' I have a cause for joy,' 
 
 Then be distrustful, lest you only learn 
 
 How cruel is desire till it attain. 
 
 And being baffled yet more cruel grows. 
 
 Indignant not to find >vhat it had sought, v 
 
 And suffering ye rage, and raging fall 
 
 Upon your own flesh. Ah, deal tenderly 
 
 With one another, O my sons, for ye, 
 
 Caged in these limbs that toil under the noon. 
 
 Are capable of sorrow huge as night ; 
 
 And still must ye bear all, whatever come. 
 
 Look how the trees in an untimely spring 
 
 Put forth their sweet shoots on the frosty air 
 
THE DEATH OF ADAM 19 
 
 That withers up the tender sap, yet still 
 Cannot delay their ripening, nor fold back 
 Their wounded buds into the sheltering rind ; 
 So shall ye shrink, yet so must ye endure. 
 I that was strong and proud in strength, and now 
 Am come to this last weakness, tell you this : 
 Alas, could ye but know it as I know. 
 I speak in vain, ye cannot understand." 
 
 He ended sighing : for his mind was filled 
 
 With apprehensions rolling up from far 
 
 The doom and tribulation of his race. 
 
 Looking upon the faces of his sons, 
 
 Well he divined their weakness from his own. 
 
 He knew what they should suffer ; yet the worst 
 
 He knew not ; had he known, he would have rued 
 
 Less to be parent of their feebleness 
 
 Than of their strength, the power to maim and rend 
 
 And ravage even that which to their hearts 
 
 Is dearest, though they know not what they do, 
 
 Trampling their peace in dust ; had he seen all 
 
 The dreadful actors on the endless stage, 
 
 Sprung from his loins, — the triumphing blind hordes. 
 
 Spurred by an ignorant fury to create 
 
 An engine of fierce pleasure in the pangs 
 
 Wrung from the brave, the gentle, and the wise, 
 
 And raging at a beauty not their own 
 
 That vexes all their vileness ; till the world. 
 
 Discovering too late its precious loss. 
 
20 THE DEATH OF ADAM 
 
 Loves and laments in vain : had he seen this, 
 His grief had gone forth in a bitterer cry. 
 But they that heard him heard incredulous. 
 Trouble was far, and sweet youth in their hearts. 
 The beauty of the world encompassed them ; 
 All else was fable ; and they stood elate 
 Yet stirred and pensive, in such wondering pause 
 As might a troop of children who have found 
 In a king's garden, under shadowy yews. 
 Ancestral marbles on a sculptured wall, 
 Half hid in vines, and lifting up the leaves 
 Gaze in a bright-eyed wonder on fair shapes 
 Of arming heroes and unhappy queens. 
 Or press soft lips on Helen's woeful mouth, 
 Touching her perfect breast, and smile on her. 
 Unknowing how beneath that heavenly mould 
 Swelled, like a sea, the powers of love and pain. 
 Powers that shall surely also rock themselves 
 In storms, and their young courage crush to sobs. 
 Toss them on easeless beds, blind their hot eyes 
 With tears, in longing violent as vain. 
 Till they shall quite forget how life was once 
 Sweet as a rose's breath and only fair. 
 As now 'tis fair and sweet to Adam's sons. 
 Exalted in expectancy, they mused. 
 And in their veins a warmer current glowed 
 Round their full-moulded limbs ; 'their open eyes 
 Shone wistful, and they murmured to themselves, 
 When Adam's voice recalled them to his grief. 
 
THE DEATH OF ADAM 21 
 
 Out of unfathomable deeps his words 
 Seemed drawn in solemn slowness. " Lo, the light 
 Makes ready to go from you, even as I. 
 Hearken, my sons ! Upon the mountain side 
 There is a cave that looks toward the East : 
 And thence in the evening clearness have I oft 
 Far-off beheld the gates of Paradise. 
 Mine eyes would feel that glory once again 
 Ere they be turned for ever to the night. 
 Therefore go down and strew a bed for me. 
 Lay me upon that bed and bear me up. 
 It grows late and I may not tarry more." 
 
 But noyir at last the certainty of woe 
 Smote through them, and they feared exceedingly. 
 Scarce knowing yet what this command might mean. 
 They would have stayed, but Adam with raised hands 
 Moved them unto his bidding ; they went down 
 And busied them, most sadly, o'er that toil 
 By the stream's shore, plaiting a bed of withes. 
 And some prepared rough poles, some gathered leaves. 
 Adam with Eve remained alone ; the light 
 Slept warm upon the grass and on their feet. 
 And round about them in the spacious tent 
 Struck upward hovering glories, pale and clear. 
 He turned to her those eyes which never yet 
 Sought there a solace or heart's ease in vain, 
 And spoke, " O Eve ! " but even there his voice 
 Stopt in the shadow of his coming thoughts. 
 
22 THE DEATH OF ADAM 
 
 And he could say no more ; but she came near 
 
 To lay her hands on his cold hands, and looked 
 
 On his bowed face, and with a soft reproach 
 
 Answered him, " Adam, thou didst say but now 
 
 That all were going from thee o'er the earth 
 
 And thou shouldst be alone, and none be thine, 
 
 And no companion with thee any more. 
 
 Am I not with thee ? Shall I go from thee ? 
 
 Am I not thine ? Am I not wholly thine ? " 
 
 Then Adam lifted up his fallen brow 
 
 And gently laid his great arms round her neck ; 
 
 He looked into her eyes, into her soul. 
 
 The face of Eve was falling toward his breast ; 
 
 Her hair with his was mingled ; now no more 
 
 They spoke, for they had come beyond all words. 
 
 They spoke not, stirred not, but together leaned. 
 
 Grand in the marble gesture of a grief 
 
 Becalmed for ever in the certitude 
 
 Of this last hour that over them stood still. 
 
 Thus had they stayed, nor moved, nor heeded aught ; 
 
 But 'twixt them and the light a shadow fell : 
 
 And Adam lifted up his eyes, and saw 
 
 Seth standing there ; he knew the hour was come. 
 
 For lo, about the doorway were the sons 
 
 Of Adam all assembled, with their wives 
 
 And children weeping ; they had brought a bed 
 
 Of plaited osiers heaped with leaves ; and now 
 
 Laying him on that litter, silently 
 
 They lifted up the poles. Eve weeping sank 
 
THE DEATH OF ADAM 23 
 
 Upon her knees : she kissed the dear last kiss ; 
 She held his body in her tender arms 
 One aching moment, then relinquished him. 
 Thus they began, the young men and the old. 
 To bear him forth, unwillingly, with slow 
 Sad footsteps planted on the yielding sand, 
 While all the women wailed and wept aloud. 
 Beating their breasts ; they felt and were afraid 
 Yet understood not ; their despair was blind. 
 But Eve, who understood her perfect loss 
 Even to the utmost pang, wept now no more. 
 Her daughters sobbing round her, hid their heads : 
 She only, with dim eyes, stretched forth her hands. 
 
 But they that bore the litter passed beside 
 
 The bright stream's pebbly margin ; and with them 
 
 The bearded men and boys, all overcome 
 
 With desolating thoughts and silent fears. 
 
 Followed : soon slowly they began to climb 
 
 Slopes scattered darkly o'er their bossy knolls 
 
 With shadowy cedars, where the jutting ribs 
 
 Of grey rock interposed ; until at last 
 
 They came to the great cavern in the cliff. 
 
 And rested, gazing backward o'er the vale 
 
 Reposing in the golden solitude. 
 
 Then Adam said, " Lift me, that I may see." 
 
 With careful arms they lifted him : he gazed 
 
 Down on the valley stretched out at his feet. 
 
 Marked with the shining stream ; he saw beyond 
 
24 THE DEATH OF ADAM 
 
 Ranges of endless hills, and very far 
 
 On the remote horizon high and clear 
 
 Shone marvellous the gates of Paradise. 
 
 There was his home, his lost home, there the paths 
 
 His feet had trod in bliss and tears, the streams, 
 
 The heavenly trees that had o'ershadowed him, 
 
 Removed all into radiance, clear and strange 
 
 As to a fisher on dark Caspian waves. 
 
 Far from the land, appears the glimmering snow 
 
 Of Caucasus, already bathed in dawn, 
 
 Like a suspended opal huge in heaven. 
 
 And wonder awes him to remember how 
 
 Long happy mornings of his youth he strayed 
 
 Over those same far valleys of his home, 
 
 Now melted and subdued to phantom shade 
 
 Beneath that lonely mount hung in the dawn : 
 
 So over darkened intervening vales 
 
 Tinged in the sweet fire of the light's farewell. 
 
 Shone Eden upon Adam. Then he sighed 
 
 A sigh not all of grief, " It is enough. . 
 
 Leave me, my children, to my peace ; go ye 
 
 And comfort Eve, go, prosper and be blest." 
 
 They each turned fearfully to each, but Seth 
 
 Bowed down his head and hushed them with his hand. 
 
 Silent with running tears they wept farewell. 
 
 And, often looking backward, on slow feet 
 
 Moved down the wide slope. Adam was alone. 
 
 At last his eyes were closing, yet he saw 
 
 Dimly the shapes of his departing sons. 
 
THE DEATH OF ADAM 25 
 
 Inheriting their endless fate ; for them 
 
 The world lay free, and all things possible. 
 
 Perchance his dying gaze, so satisfied, 
 
 Was lightened, and he saw how vast a scope 
 
 Ennobled them of power to dare beyond 
 
 Their mortal frailty in immortal deeds. 
 
 Exceeding their brief days in excellence, 
 
 Not with the easy victory of gods 
 
 Triumphant, but in suffering more divine ; 
 
 Since that which drives them to unnumbered woes. 
 
 Their burning deep unquenchable desire. 
 
 Shall be their glory, and shall forge at last 
 
 From fiery pangs their everlasting peace. 
 
TO THE SUMMER NIGHT 
 
 A SULTRY perfume of voluptuous June 
 Enchants the air still breathing of warm day ; 
 But now the impassioned Night draws over, soon 
 To fold me, in this high hollow, quite away 
 From oaken groves beneath and glimmering bay 
 And valley rock-bestrewn ; 
 From all but shadowy leaves and scented ground 
 And this intense blue slowly deepening round, 
 From all but thoughts of beauty and delight 
 And thee that stealest as with hair unbound 
 O'er the hushed earth, and lips sighing, enamoured 
 Night. 
 
 Not the fair vestal of the Spring's cold sky. 
 But flushed from the ancestral East, thy home. 
 Drowsing the land, thou stirrest joy to a sigh. 
 Longing to passion and wild thoughts, that roam 
 As through those hungering Asian forests come 
 Panthers of ardent eye ; 
 While over worlds wandering extravagant. 
 Like some divine and naked Corybant, 
 Thou movest ; dark woods tremble and suspire ; 
 
 26 
 
TO THE SUMMER NIGHT 27 
 
 And mortal spirits for life's full fountain pant, 
 As in content awakes the genius of desire. 
 
 Richer than jewelled Indian realm is thine, 
 
 stepper from the mountain-tops ! for whom 
 On viewless branches of the heavenly vine 
 The white stars cluster faint or thickly bloom 
 Through the sapphire abyss of glowing gloom. 
 Press out a magic wine 
 
 For me — I thirst — from that intensest height, 
 Where even our keen thought, outsoaring sight, 
 Faints and despairs, ay, from some virgin star 
 Brim me a cup of that untreasured light 
 Lone in a world unreached, abounding, and afar ! 
 
 Most far is now most dear. Blot out the near ! 
 Lost is the earth beneath me, lost the day's 
 Removed ambition, all that fretful sphere 
 Drowned in the dark, and quenched its trivial praise. 
 
 1 would behold beyond a mortal's gaze, 
 Behold eVn now, ev'n here, 
 
 The beauty strange, the ecstasy extreme, 
 
 Of what should this divine gloom best beseem, 
 
 The bosom of a Goddess, or her hair. 
 
 Invisible and fragrant — gliding dream, 
 
 Yet near as my heart beating, of such charm aware. 
 
 Why have we toiled so patiently to bend 
 This bow of arduous life ? Unto what mark ? 
 
28 TO THE SUMMER NIGHT 
 
 For what have set to our desire no end, 
 
 Steered to the utmost stormy sea our bark, 
 
 Piercing with eagle thought the frozen dark. 
 
 Been bold and gay to spend 
 
 Our warm blood, hazarded wild odds, and let 
 
 The bright world perish ? What far prize to get ? 
 
 What thing is this no speech could ever frame. 
 
 Nor hundred creeds ever imprison yet ? 
 
 We breathe for it, and die, yet never named its name. 
 
 Star-trembling Night, Mother of songs unsung 
 
 And leaves unborn beneath the barren rind, 
 
 Who findest for forbidden hope a tongue. 
 
 Who treasurest most the treasure undivined 
 
 And flowers that banquet but the careless wind ; 
 
 To whom all joy is young ; 
 
 Prophetess of the fire that one day leaping 
 
 Shall burn the world's corruption, of the sleeping 
 
 Swords that shall strike down tyrants from their 
 
 throne. 
 Mother of faith, our frail thought onward sweeping, 
 Breathe nearer, whisper close, spells of the dear un- 
 known. 
 
 O of thy fated children number me ! 
 Now while the alien day deep-sunken lies 
 And only the awakened soul may see, 
 Far from the lips that flatter or despise, 
 Foster my fond hope with thy certainties. 
 From time's subjection free, 
 
TO THE SUMMER NIGHT 29 
 
 That I may woo from some bare branch a flower, 
 Yea, from this world a beauty and a power 
 She gives not of herself ; sustain me still 
 Through the harsh day, through every taming hour, 
 To find thy promise truth, thy secret grace fulfil. 
 
THE SNOWS OF SPRING 
 
 O WAILING gust, what hast thou brought with thee, 
 
 What sting of desolation ? But an hour 
 
 And brave was every shy new-opened flower 
 
 Smiling in sun beneath a budding tree. 
 
 Now over black hills the skies stoop and lour ; 
 
 Now on this lonely upland the shrill blast 
 
 Thrusts under brown dead crumpled leaves to find 
 
 Soft primroses that were unfolding fast ; 
 
 Now the fair Spring cries through the shuddering 
 
 wood 
 Lamenting for her darlings to the wind 
 That ravishes their youth with laughter rude. 
 
 The whole air darkens, sweeping up in storm. 
 What breath is this of what far power that slays ? 
 What God in blank and towering cloud arrays 
 His muffled, else intolerable form ? 
 What beautiful Medusa's frozen gaze ? 
 Lo, out of gloom the first flakes floating pale. 
 Lost like a dreamer's thoughts ! They shall lie deep 
 To-morrow on green shoot, pn petal frail 
 And living branches borne down in despair 
 
 30 
 
THE SNOWS OF SPRING 31 
 
 By the mere weight of that soft-nesting sleep, 
 Though all the earth look still and white and fair. 
 
 Fantasmal and extreme as some blind plain 
 
 Upon the far side of the moon, unknown 
 
 Deep Polar solitudes of ice enthrone 
 
 In the white night of mountain and moraine 
 
 The Power of that cold Sleep that dwells alone, 
 
 Absolute in remotest idleness. 
 
 Yet from his fancied lips the freezing breath 
 
 Wandering about the world's warm wilderness 
 
 Has drifted on the north wind even hither 
 
 These gently whispering syllables of death 
 
 Among the English flowers, our Spring to wither. 
 
 Not only the brief tender flowers, ah me ! 
 
 Suffer such desolation, but we too 
 
 Who boast our godlike liberty to do 
 
 Whate'er we will, and range all climes, ev'n we 
 
 Must still abide its coming and our rue. 
 
 It breathes in viewless winds and gently falls 
 
 Over our spirits, till desire grown sere. 
 
 Faith frozen into words, custom like walls 
 
 Of stone imprison us, and we acquiesce. 
 
 O more than raging elements to fear 
 
 Is snow-soft death that comes like a caress. 
 
 Life lives for ever : Death of her knows naught. 
 Our souls through radiant mystery are led. 
 
32 THE SNOWS OF SPRING 
 
 Clothed in fresh raiment as the old is shed. 
 But Death the unchanging has no aim, no thought, 
 Deaf, blind, indifferent, feeds not yet is fed. 
 Moves not yet crushes, is not rent yet rends : 
 For as from icebergs killing airs are blown, 
 His cold sleep to our life- warm ardour sends 
 Frost wreathing round us delicate as rime, 
 Making most real what should be dream alone 
 To the free spirit, the gnawing tooth of time. 
 
 Who shall escape, since death and life inweave 
 
 Their threads so subtly ? Yet may truth be wooed 
 
 In our own natures, shaken off the brood 
 
 Of thoughts not ours, beliefs our lips believe 
 
 But our hearts own not, — alien fortitude. 
 
 These are of death ; and with his realm conspire 
 
 Faint souls that drowse in ignorance unjust. 
 
 That with the world corrupt their true desire, 
 
 And dully hate and stagnantly despise. 
 
 Already they begin to die, to rust ; 
 
 But those that love are always young and wise. 
 
 O Love, my Love, the dear light of whose eyes 
 Shines on the world to show me all things new. 
 Falsehood the falser and the true more true, 
 And tenfold precious all my soul must prize. 
 Since from our life's core love so deeply grew, 
 O let us cleave fast to the heavenly powers 
 That brought us this, whose unseen spirit flows 
 
THE SNOWS OF SPRING 33 
 
 Pure as the wind and sensitive as flowers. 
 They are with us ! Let the storm-gathering night 
 Cover the bleak earth with these whirling snows, 
 Our hands are joined, our hearts are brimmed with 
 light. 
 
A VISION OF RESURRECTION 
 
 The Genius of an hour that fading day 
 Resigned to wide-haired Night's impending brow 
 Stole me apart, I knew not where nor how, 
 And from my sense ravished the world away. 
 Rose in my view a visionary ground, 
 A rugged plain, beneath uncoloured skies. 
 There slowly iri the midst without a sound 
 Upheaved a motion as of birth. I gazed. 
 When lo ! a head, with upcast empty eyes 
 And semblance of dead shoulders' majesties. 
 Whose fleshless arms a marble breast upraised. 
 
 But even as this emerged, nor yet was free. 
 Behold it ripen into bloom and form. 
 The shrunk limbs round and into colour warm. 
 The hair spring new as leaves upon a tree, 
 And curl like small flames round the forehead fair. 
 At last the eyelids open wide : it seems 
 A glorious-statured youth that wakens there. 
 Casting his eyes in wonder down, to feel 
 This body that with clear blood newly teems, 
 How perfect, yet still heavy as from dreams. 
 And over it the ancient beauty steal. 
 
 34 
 
A VISION OF RESURRECTION 35 
 
 O lost in musing recollection sweet, 
 What summoning cry thine age-long slumber stirred ? 
 In that profound grave has thy cold ear heard 
 From heaven the mailed Archangel call, whose feet 
 Stand planted in the stream of stars, and whose 
 Time-shattering trump hath pealed to the world's 
 
 core? 
 Yet still doth thy averted head refuse 
 To lift its eyes up ; still thy spread hands lean 
 On earth, while pensive thou surveyest o'er 
 This radiant shape that all thy sorrows bore. 
 Strong now as if no pain had ever been. 
 
 What thoughts begin to glide upon thy brain. 
 And part thy lips with sighs ? Is it some fear 
 'Mid flattering heavenly airs approaching near 
 This strange unproven peace to entertain ? 
 Musing, " O rebel flesh, in my hard need 
 How often didst thou fail me ! I know well 
 How thou didst make me suffer toil and bleed, 
 At once my prison and my enemy. 
 Dear body, I fear thee yet : dark rages dwell 
 Within thee : how shalt thou in peace excel ? 
 How learn to bear perfect felicity ? " 
 
 Nay, rather that fond wonder in thy look 
 Is wonder to have lost the thoughts that maim, 
 The wounds of evilly-invented shame 
 And fear that each sweet impulse overtook. 
 
36 A VISION OF RESURRECTION 
 
 Now thou art free, and all thy being whole, 
 Perceivest in that peril-haunted earth 
 The fair and primal gestures of thy soul. 
 And knowest how all thy full completion fed, 
 The urging hungers, the sun-sweetened mirth ; 
 Yea, finding even in those furies worth. 
 Which lacking, hardly art thou perfected. 
 
 What trees are these whose dim young branches rise 
 Above thee ? Springing waters freshen sweet 
 New tender green for thee to pace and greet 
 The growing of the dawn of Paradise. 
 Thou gazest round thee with a listening face, 
 Hearkening perhaps to some far-floating song 
 Unheard of men. Ah, go not ere thy grace, 
 O glorified, of me be throughly learned ! 
 But as I prayed in supplication strong 
 The vision faded, and the world, whose wrong 
 Mocks holy beauty and our jdesire, returned. 
 
QUEEN VENUS 
 
 Queen Venus on a day of cloud 
 Forsook heaven's argent palaces, 
 Beneath the roofing vapours bowed 
 And sought a promontory loud 
 Far in the utmost seas. 
 
 There to a caverned shore she made retreat, 
 
 Where granite shoulders of the mountain slant 
 
 Down to wet ledges that the waters beat. 
 
 Haunted of gull and diving cormorant. 
 
 Her garment was of green that deeply glowed ; 
 
 One foot beneath its fluttering border showed, 
 
 As on a rocky solitary seat, 
 
 Sitting with both hands clasped about her knee. 
 
 She gazed unmoving over restless sea, 
 
 Heard not the wild birds scream and circling soar 
 
 Up the black cliffs and round their craggy tops. 
 
 But watched the full waves towering toward the shore, 
 
 Heaved up and ever falling in dumb roar. 
 
 And snowed into a thousand stormy drops. 
 
 Gardens of sultry Paphos, far away 
 
 Your doves among the strewn rose-petals play ! 
 
 37 
 
38 QUEEN VENUS 
 
 But doves nor roses please her heart to-day, 
 Who, child of ocean, comes to taste once more 
 The sting and splendour of the ocean spray. 
 
 Out of the cold mist curling, 
 The waters onward hurling, 
 As if a wizard driving 
 A myriad rebel spirits swept them thither. 
 Mounting, despairing, crying, and ever striving, 
 Swell toward her feet and in a moment wither. 
 O, idly in the wells of Venus' eyes 
 Those perishing proud glories fall and rise. 
 Like to a mirror where have come and gone 
 Faces of pain and passion, nor have left 
 Of all the abandoned story of their sighs 
 An image more than where a moonbeam shone. 
 She sees, she hearkens, but of thought bereft ; 
 Her gaze holds neither pity, fear, nor wonder : 
 Yet in the exultation and the thunder 
 Of those waves moving as to music rolled. 
 Wherein their briefness is a tone half-told, 
 A spirit lives that doth her spirit claim ; 
 Then she remembers how she also came 
 From deep-moved waters tossing and uptorn. 
 And 'mid such bitter idle foam was born 
 The serene charm that sets the world aflame. 
 
 Throned in an immortal throne. 
 Beauty holds her perfect place. 
 
QUEEN VENUS 39 
 
 Without memory and alone, 
 
 Whether passionately known, 
 
 Or of all unknown her face. 
 
 But O, we mortals, that tormented see 
 
 Glimpses of our far felicity, 
 
 We that like wild waters hurled 
 
 Against the blind rocks of the world, 
 
 Ever vainly seek to climb 
 
 An hour beyond the clutch of time ; 
 
 We whom fathomless desire 
 
 Lifts and fills with glorious fire, 
 
 Yet even in our triumph shakes 
 
 With trembling and in weakness breaks — 
 
 Sudden comes the gloom, and we expire ; 
 
 Had we but strength to dwell in 
 
 The music of our dream. 
 
 Lifted from those gulfs we fell in 
 
 On the pure and rhythmic stream, 
 
 Then though we like shattered waves 
 
 Vanished in forgotten graves, 
 
 From that music and that motion 
 
 Power should flow to boundless ocean, 
 
 And from tumult far upborne 
 
 On the tide of rapt endeavour, 
 
 Merging all its pains forlorn 
 
 In its fulness, should be born 
 
 Beauty that should burn for ever ! 
 
THE BELFRY 
 
 Dark is the stair, and humid the old walls 
 Wherein it winds, on worn stones, up the tower. 
 Only by loophole chinks at intervals 
 Pierces the late glow of this August hour. 
 
 Two truant children climb the stairway dark, 
 With joined hands, half in glee and half in fear. 
 The boy mounts brisk, the girl hangs back to hark 
 If the gruff sexton their light footstep hear. 
 
 Dazzled at last they gain the belfry-room. 
 Barred rays through shutters hover across the floor 
 Dancing in dust ; so fresh they come from gloom 
 That breathless they pause wondering at the door. 
 
 How hushed it is ! What smell of timbers old 
 From cobwebbed beams ! The warm light here and 
 
 there 
 Edging a darkness, sleeps in pools of gold, 
 Or weaves fantastic shadows through the air. 
 
 40 
 
THE BELFRY 41 
 
 How motionless the huge bell ! Straight and stiff, 
 Ropes through the floor rise to the rafters dim. 
 The shadowy round of metal hangs, as if 
 No force could ever lift its gleamy rim. 
 
 A child's awe, a child's wonder, who shall trace 
 What dumb thoughts on its waxen softness write 
 In such a spell -brimmed, time-forgotten place. 
 Bright in that strangeness of approaching night ? 
 
 As these two gaze, their fingers tighter press ; 
 For suddenly the slow bell upward heaves 
 Its vast mouth, the cords quiver at the stress, 
 And ere the heart prepare, the ear receives 
 
 Full on its delicate sense the plangent stroke 
 
 Of violent, iron, reverberating sound. 
 
 As if the tower in all its stones awoke. 
 
 Deep echoes tremble, again in clangour drowned. 
 
 That starts without a whir of frighted wings 
 
 And holds these young hearts shaken, hushed, and 
 
 thrilled. 
 Like frail reeds in a rushing stream, like strings 
 Of music, or like trees with tempest filled. 
 
 And rolls in wide waves out o'er the lone land. 
 Tone following tone toward the far-setting sun. 
 Till where in fields long-shadowed reapers stand 
 Bowed heads look up, and lo, the day is done. 
 
42 THE BELFRY 
 
 At last it ebbs. Then silence on the last 
 Vibrating murmur builds its gradual weight ; 
 Another silence from that silence past, 
 Charged with the will of only sleeping Fate, 
 
 Such as some venturous listener appals 
 
 In world-old forest, when, untouched by hand. 
 
 Utterly ripe, a great tree crashing falls 
 
 And not a sound succeeds. The children stand 
 
 Rapt in that silence with the life-lit eye 
 Of expectation, and awe-parted lips ; 
 Yet in their breasts the heart is beating high. 
 Flushed are they, tingling to the finger-tips 
 
 With a dim sense of the world's meaning changed. 
 And Time dissolved, and a lost freedom found, 
 As if the soul had glimpse of regions ranged 
 Ere she was born into these senses bound. 
 
 They know not yet. But surely once again 
 Some touch of chance, a thought upon some face, 
 A sunned wall, a far voice, still midnight rain, 
 Shall strike them home into this hour and place. 
 
 And seized by memory in profounder spell, 
 So shall they listen with suspended breath 
 While, like that solemnly awakened bell. 
 Life deepens out to mystery more than Death ; 
 
THE BELFRY 43 
 
 And thrilling fear, like hope, to grandeur grown, 
 Losing the world, lets, ocean-vast, inroll 
 The power and glory of all that is unknown 
 Yet seeks in us the secret and the soul. 
 
LOOK NOT TOO DEEP 
 
 Look not too deep in my heart, 
 
 My beloved ; nay, lean not too near 
 
 From the shores of thy peace, lest thou start 
 
 From the midst of thy sweet thoughts to hear 
 
 The sound of waters of pain, 
 
 Blindly knocking and thronging, 
 
 The waters of heavy longing. 
 
 That deep in my heart has lain. 
 
 Sleeplessly circle the waves 
 Far under, and dumbly resound 
 In throats of the sea-filled caves, 
 Where daylight wholly is drowned, 
 Where frail fair shells are scattered 
 And broken in random foam. 
 With weeds that have found no home, 
 And drift-wood of ships long shattered. 
 
 But I would, my beloVd, that for thee, 
 Who bring'st me a sky all blue. 
 My spirit were stilled as a sea 
 That the fires of the noon warm through, 
 When the waves have forgotten tTieir sighs 
 And from shore unto shore are at rest, 
 As my whole soul bathes and is blest 
 In the peace of thy beautiful eyes. 
 44 
 
HAREBELL AND PANSY 
 
 O'er the round throat her little head 
 
 Its gay delight upbuoys : 
 
 A harebell in the breeze of June 
 
 Hath such melodious poise ; 
 
 And chiming with her heart, my heart 
 
 Is only hers and joy's. 
 
 But my heart takes a deeper thrill, 
 
 Her cheek a rarer bloom, 
 
 When the sad mood comes rich as glow 
 
 Of pansies dipped in gloom. 
 
 By some far shore she wanders — where ? 
 
 And her eyes fill — for whom ? 
 
 4S 
 
GRIEF 
 
 Grief is like a child, 
 Led with relentless hand 
 By a strange nurse, whose face 
 Seems never to have smiled, 
 Whose onward gaze severe 
 Slackens not, nor her pace. 
 Nor that child's faltering fear 
 Stoops she to understand. 
 
 So strides the world, while grief 
 Unwilling is borne on. 
 With ever lingering mind, 
 Through the strange days, alone. 
 Oh, like a fluttering leaf 
 On the ways of the strong wind, 
 Or pebbles helpless thrown 
 By night on a wild strand, 
 Lost are the thoughts of grief, 
 That none can understand ! 
 
 46 
 
LAMENT 
 
 Fall now, my cold thoughts, frozen fall 
 My sad thoughts, over my heart, 
 To be the tender burial 
 Of sweetness and of smart. 
 
 Fall soft as the snow, when all men sleep, 
 On copse and on bank forlorn. 
 That tenderly buries, yet buries deep 
 Frail violets, freshly born. 
 
 47 
 
SURSUM COR! 
 
 Lament no more, my heart, lament no more, 
 Though all these clouds have covered up the light, 
 And thou, so far from shore. 
 Art baffled in mid flight ; 
 Still proudly as in joy through sorrow soar ! 
 As the wild swan, 
 
 Voyaging over dark and rising seas, 
 Into the stormy air adventures on 
 With wide unfaltering wings, the way he bore 
 When blue the water laughed beneath the breeze 
 And morning round the radiant beaches shone. 
 So thou through all this pain 
 Endure, my heart, whither thy course was bound ; 
 Though never may the longed-for goal be found. 
 Thy steadfast will maintain. 
 Thou must not fail, for nothing yet hath failed 
 Which was to thee most dear and most adored ; 
 Still glorious is Love, thy only lord. 
 Truth still is true, and sweetness still is sweet : 
 The high stars have not changed, nor the sun paled. 
 Still warmly, O my heart, and bravely beat, 
 Remember not how lovely was delight. 
 How piteous is pain. 
 Keep, keep thy passionate flight. 
 Nor find thy voyage vain. 
 
 Yea, till thou break, my heart, all meaner quest disdain. 
 
 48 
 
EUROPE, MDCCCCI 
 
 TO NAPOLEON 
 
 Soars still thy spirit, Child of Fire ? 
 Dost hear the camps of Europe hum ? 
 On eagle wings dost hover nigher 
 At the far rolling of the drum ? 
 To see the harvest thou hast sown 
 Smilest thou now, Napoleon ? 
 
 Long had the world in blinded mirth 
 Or suffering patience dreamed content, 
 When lo ! like thunder over earth 
 Thy challenge pealed, the skies were rent ; 
 Thy terrible youth rose up alone 
 Against the old world on its throne. 
 
 With shuddering then the peoples gazed. 
 And such a stupor bound them dumb 
 As those fierce Colchian ranks amazed 
 Who saw the youthful Jason come. 
 And challenging the War God's name 
 Step forth, his fiery yoke to tame. 
 E 49 
 
50 EUROPE, MDCCCCI 
 
 He took those dread bulls by the horn, 
 Harnessed their fury to his will. 
 And in the furrow swiftly torn 
 The dragon's teeth abroad did spill : 
 When lo ! behind his trampling heel 
 The furrow flowered into steel ! 
 
 A spear, a plume, a warrior sprung — 
 Arm'd gods in wrath by hundreds ; he 
 Faced all, and full amidst them flung 
 His magic helmet : instantly 
 Their swords upon themselves they drew, 
 And shouting each the other slew. 
 
 But no Medean spell was thine. 
 
 Napoleon, nor anointed charm ; 
 
 Thy will was as a fate divine 
 
 To wavering men who watched thine arm 
 
 Drive on through Europe old thy plough. 
 
 The harvest ripens even now ! 
 
 Time's purple flauntings, king and crown. 
 Old custom's tall and idle weeds. 
 Were tossed aside and trampled down. 
 While thou didst scatter fiery seeds, 
 That in the gendering lap of earth 
 Prepared a new world's Titan birth. 
 
EUROPE, MDCCCCI 51 
 
 Then in thy path from underground, 
 Where long benumbed in trance they froze, 
 The Nations, giant forms unbound. 
 Slow to their aching stature rose ; 
 And through their wintry veins again 
 Slow flushed the streams of life in pain. 
 
 Thy thunder, O Napoleon, passed. 
 
 But these whom thou hadst stirred to life. 
 
 On them the imperious doom was cast 
 
 Of inextinguishable strife. 
 
 For peace they longed, but blood and tears 
 
 Still blinded the tempestuous years. 
 
 A hundred years have flown, and still 
 For peace they pine ; peace tarries yet. 
 These groaning armies Europe fill. 
 And war's red planet hath not set. 
 O mockery of peace, that gnaws 
 Their hearts for so abhorred a cause ! 
 
 Is peace so easy ? Nay, the names 
 That are most dear and most divine 
 To men, are like the heavenly flames 
 That farthest from possession shine. 
 Peace, love, truth, freedom, unto these 
 The way is through the storming seas. 
 
52 EUROPE, MDCCCCI 
 
 Ye wakened nations, now no more 
 You battle fpr a monarch's whim ; 
 The cause is now in your heart's core. 
 Your soul must strive through every limb ; 
 They who with all their soul contend 
 Bear more, but to a nobler end. 
 
 Be patient in your strife ! And thou, 
 O England, dearer than the rest ; 
 England, with proud looks on thy brow, 
 England, with trouble at thy breast, 
 Seek on in patient fortitude 
 Strong peace, most worthy to be wooed. 
 
 Take up thy task, O nobly born ! 
 With both hands grasp thy destiny. 
 Easy is ignorance, easy scorn, 
 And fluent pride, unworthy thee. 
 Grand rolls the planet of thy fate : 
 Be thy just passions also great ! 
 
 Turn from the sweet lure of content. 
 Rise up among the courts of ease ; 
 Be all thy will as a bow bent, 
 Thy sure on-coming like thy seas. 
 Purge clear within thy deep desires 
 To be our burning altar-fires 1 
 
EUROPE, MDCCCCI 53 
 
 Then welcome peril, so it bring 
 Thy true soul leaping into light ; 
 A glory for our mouths to sing 
 And for our deeds to match in might. 
 Till thou at last our hope enthrone, 
 And make indeed thy peace our own. 
 
UMBRIA 
 
 Deep Italian day with a wide-washed splendour fills 
 Umbria green with valleys, blue with a hundred hills. 
 Dim in the south Soracte, a far rock faint as a cloud 
 Rumours Rome, that of old spoke over earth, " Thou 
 
 art mine!" 
 Mountain shouldering mountain circles us forest- 
 browed 
 Heaped upon each horizon in fair uneven line ; 
 And white as on builded altars tipped with a vestal 
 
 flame 
 City on city afar from the thrones of the mountains 
 
 shine, 
 Kindling, for us that name them, many a memoried 
 
 fame. 
 Out of the murmuring ages, flushing the heart like 
 
 wine. 
 Pilgrim-desired Assisi is there ; Spoleto proud 
 With Rome's imperial arches, with hanging woods 
 
 divine : 
 Monte Falco hovers above the hazy vale 
 Of sweet Clitumnus loitering under poplars pale ; 
 O'er Foligno, Trevi clings upon Apennine. 
 
 54 
 
UMBRIA 55 
 
 And over this Umbrian earth — from where with bright 
 
 snow spread 
 Towers abrupt Leonessa, huge, like a dragon's chine, 
 To western Ammiata's mist-apparelled head, 
 Ammiata that sailors watch on wide Tyrrhenian 
 
 waves, — 
 Lie in the jealous gloom of cold and secret shrine 
 Or Gorgon-sculptured chamber hewn in old rock 
 
 caves. 
 Hiding their dreams from the light, the austere 
 
 Etruscan dead. 
 O lone forests of oak and little cyclamens red 
 Flowering under shadowy silent boughs benign ! 
 Streams that wander beneath us over a pebbly bed ! 
 Hedges of dewy hawthorn and wild woodbine ! 
 Now as the eastern ranges flush and the high air 
 
 chills 
 Blurring meadowy vale, blackening heaths of pine. 
 Now as in distant Todi, loftily-towered — a sign 
 Ta wearying travellers — lights o'er hollow Tiber 
 
 gleam, 
 Now our voices are stilled and our eyes are given to 
 
 a dream. 
 As night, upbringing o'er us the ancient stars anew, 
 Stars that triumphing Caesar and tender Francis 
 
 knew. 
 With fancied voices mild, august, immortal, fills 
 Umbria dim with valleys, dark with a hundred hills. 
 
S. FRANCESCO DEL DESERTO 
 
 Peace in smooth summer hour 
 Paces the seas awhile ; 
 But Peace has built her tower 
 Upon this chosen isle. 
 
 Scarcely a ripple stirs 
 In this lone shore's recess, 
 Scarcely a motion blurs 
 The mirrored cypresses 
 
 Ranked on a crumbling wall, 
 O'er slopes of flowery grass ; 
 Where their long shadows fall, 
 Butterflies gleam and pass. 
 
 The idle sunshine sleeps 
 Before a porch ; within. 
 Cool the white cloister keeps 
 Peace that has always been. 
 
 Beyond, a tangled plot 
 Of garden and tall trees, 
 Soothing its frc^ance hot 
 In freshness from the seas. 
 56 
 
S. FRANCESCO DEL DESERTO 57 
 
 There young monks slowly pace 
 With seldom-lifted eyes, 
 With world-unwritten face, 
 Not mournful yet nor wise. 
 
 Have they in this fair fold 
 Lost the fierce world in truth ? 
 Or must the storms of old 
 Still shake the heart of youth ? 
 
 Far in blue northern haze 
 The vast Alps glimmer pale, 
 Faint through the slumbrous blaze 
 Comes the white sea-gull's wail. 
 
A DREAM 
 
 Behold an endless evening over land 
 That lapped in vast vales rises up afar 
 Into the frozen mountains ; evening brimmed 
 With silence, so miraculously clear 
 That crevices in peaks of distant stone 
 And rust-red boughs of cedars, at the foot 
 Of those remote and voiceless waterfalls. 
 Which down the black steeps of lone gorges plunge, 
 Are shaped distinct unto the wondering eye ; 
 And the mind, seeing, notes not how 'tis fair. 
 But throned in languor has already summ'd 
 All the vain journey thither. Not a sound 
 Near by ; no motion lifts a single leaf. 
 Nor stirs one cold stalk of the sappy spurge 
 And powdery hemlock, nor 'mid clustered reeds 
 The peeping heads of certain dim blue flowers 
 Mirrored in water idle as themselves. 
 And she that sits upon the bank, whose head 
 Droops toward her shoulder, whose full lips are closed. 
 And whose wide eyes seem vacant, yet contain 
 Profound remembrance sunken like a wreck 
 Beneath gray seas, is she of this entranced 
 And glimmering land the sole inhabitant ? 
 
 S8 
 
THE TUNNEL 
 
 Sitting with strangers in the hurrying train, 
 We spoke not to each other. Golden May 
 Flooded those warm fields greener from the rain, 
 Then sudden darkness stole it all away. 
 
 Her face was gone ; but on the dark I framed 
 Its features, to my fancy's utmost height, 
 And with love's utmost fondness, never named, 
 Painted the image of my life's delight. 
 
 But lo ! a gleam the window's edge outlined. 
 And beautifully dawning through the gloom. 
 She came back, O how much more than my mind 
 Had pictured, triumphing in breath and bloom ! 
 
 Then I, ashamed, gave thanks with joy ; I knew 
 That my best dream was bettered by the true. 
 
 59 
 
AN HOUR 
 
 Together by bright water 
 We sat, my love and I. 
 Light as a skimming swallow 
 The perfect hour went by 
 With words like ripples breaking 
 On full thoughts softly waking ; 
 With thoughts so dear and shy 
 That no word dared to follow. 
 
 Down by that sunny water 
 The spring's sweet voice we heard. 
 The wind, the leaves' young lover, 
 My love's hair gently stirred. 
 An hour ago we parted ; 
 I wander heavy-hearted. 
 Heavily, like a wounded bird, 
 The day lags, night draws over. 
 
 60 
 
AT EVENING 
 
 Fly home, my thoughts, that fretting 
 
 In alien words all day, 
 
 Have longed for the sun's setting 
 
 And wished all words away. 
 
 Fly home to her that knows you. 
 
 And in her heart repose you. 
 
 Fly home, my thoughts, and flutter 
 
 Like doves to gentle hands. 
 
 You need no lips to utter 
 
 What her heart well understands. 
 
 Her heart will open to you : 
 
 From far, my thoughts, she knew you. 
 
 Breathe out your breath, like roses. 
 About her loosened hair ; 
 Soothe each eyelid that closes 
 With tender murmured prayer ; 
 Your happy vigil keeping 
 Over her sacred sleeping. 
 6i 
 
62 AT EVENING 
 
 Fly home, my thought's devotion, 
 
 Fly fast and there abide. 
 
 A barren senseless ocean 
 
 Is all the world beside. 
 
 Your home is only there, where she 
 
 Shrines all the world's desire for me. 
 
A HYMN OF LOVE 
 
 HUSH, sweet birds, that linger in lonely song ! 
 Hold in your evening fragrance, wet May-bloom ! 
 But drooping branches and leaves that greenly throng. 
 Darken and cover me over in tenderer gloom. 
 
 As a water-lily unclosing on some shy pool, 
 Filled with rain, upon tremulous water lying, 
 With joy afraid to speak, yet fain to be sighing 
 Its riches out, my heart is full, too full. 
 
 Votaries that have veiled their secret shrine 
 In veils of incense falteringly that rise, 
 And stealing in milky clouds of wavering line 
 Round soaring pillars hang like adoring sighs. 
 They watch the smoke ascending soft as thought, 
 Till wide in the fragrant dimness peace is shed. 
 And out of their perfect vision the world is fled. 
 Because the heart sees pure when the eye sees not 
 
 1 too will veil my joy that is too divine 
 
 For my heart to comprehend or tongue to speak. 
 The whole earth is my temple, and Love the shrine 
 That all the hearts of the world worship and seek. 
 
 63 
 
64 A HYMN OF LOVE 
 
 But the incense cloud I burn to veil my bliss 
 Is woven of air and waters and living sun, 
 Colour and odour and music and light made one. 
 Come down, O night, and take from me all but this ! 
 
 I dreamed of wonders strange in a strange air ; 
 
 But this my joy, my dream, my wonder, is near 
 
 As grass to the earth, that clings so close and fair. 
 
 Nourished by all it nourishes. O most dear, 
 
 I dreamed of beauty pacing enchanted ground. 
 
 But you with beauty over my waiting soul, 
 
 As the blood steals over the cheek at a heart-throb, 
 
 stole ! 
 In the beating of my heart I have known you, I 
 
 have found. 
 
 Incredulous world be far, and tongues profane ! 
 For now in my spirit there burns a steadfast faith. 
 No longer I fear you, earth's sad bondage vain, 
 Nor prison walls of Time, nor the gates of Death. 
 For the marvel that was most marvellous is most 
 
 true; 
 To the music that moves the universe moves my 
 
 heart. 
 And the song of the starry worlds I sing apart 
 In the night and shadow and stillness, Love, for you. 
 
BAHRAM THE HUNTER 
 
 When Bahram rode to the chase, 
 
 Then saw ye his soul's delight 
 
 Full on his kingly face. 
 
 Who could his steed outpace ? 
 
 He swooped like a falcon's flight ; 
 
 Like a sunbeam that strikes from a cloud, 
 
 Exulting and eager-browed. 
 
 So rode he his reckless race. 
 
 Bright flashed the pools at morn, 
 
 And the sun o'er the mountains burned 
 
 And gilded the antelope's horn 
 
 In the plain, and the wild ass in scorn 
 
 Of the hunter the hard soil spurned. 
 
 Snuffing the wind, most fleet 
 
 Of quarries, the beat of whose feet 
 
 Is music to kings' ears borne. 
 
 Bahram smiled as he rode 
 On the dew-starred turf; debonair 
 Was his look, and his glad voice flowed. 
 White was the horse he bestrode, 
 
 F 6s 
 
66 BAHRAM THE HUNTER 
 
 And over his black beard and hair 
 The white-furred cap on his head 
 Was hung with tassels of red : 
 On his mantle a gold sun glowed. 
 
 And round him glittering gay 
 Rode princes and lords ; he turned 
 To each with a word to say 
 In his royal courtesy ; nay, 
 Not a heart but joyously burned 
 To be near to a heart so great, 
 And was fain to be proved its mate 
 In a glorious deed this day. 
 
 But the king's men shouted ; for lo ! 
 The wild ass afar they espied 
 In the shallowing valley below. 
 Where bright springs fathomless flow. 
 He was shaking his neck in pride, 
 And his heels the dust upthrew : 
 Then Bahram shot forth to pursue. 
 As a bolt that is shot from a bow. 
 
 The princes of Persia spurred. 
 But he left them all ; this day 
 There was neither second nor third 
 To the king. Now a startled bird 
 
BAHRAM THE HUNTER 67 
 
 From the low grove fluttered away ; 
 Then the plain smoked up in a cloud 
 Behind them, and thundered aloud ; 
 Yet never the king they neared. 
 
 Swifter the onaga fled, 
 But swifter the king came nigher, 
 Wherever those fleet heels led ; 
 Now soft upon grass he sped, 
 Now the hoofs upon stone struck fire ; 
 Till the wild ass turned in his fear 
 For an instant, and showed him clear 
 The eyeball strained in his head. 
 
 Then the princes shouted as one. 
 For they heard the king's glad shout, 
 And saw his spear raised in the sun. 
 And the light o'er the long shaft run ; 
 As they looked for the steel to flash out 
 On a sudden the place was bare ; 
 Bahram was no more there. 
 And the onaga galloped alone. 
 
 Pale they spurred o'er the ground 
 Then reined in close with a,cry. 
 Gazing in terror around : 
 Neither king nor horse they found. 
 
68 BAHRAM THE HUNTER 
 
 But before them laughed to the sky 
 A pool of springs that well 
 From the streams under earth and swell 
 Through her secret caverns profound. 
 
 The women of Shiraz wail, 
 
 And the young men cry in the street, 
 
 " No more now in the Vale 
 
 Of Heroes shall Bahram hail 
 
 His quarry of glancing feet, 
 
 No more shall his voice delight 
 
 Our hearts through the battle, and smite 
 
 The ranks of the Tartar pale ! " 
 
 The mother of Bahram hath made 
 
 Amid pillars his empty tomb 
 
 Of porphyry, jasper, and jade. 
 
 Clear gums in fire she hath frayed 
 
 To cloud it in idle fume. 
 
 Yet riches from isles of the dawn. 
 
 Nor spices from far Damaun, 
 
 Lure hither the strong-winged shade. 
 
 Tomb nor prison shall tame 
 Bahram the hunter's soul. 
 As of old to the chase he came, 
 He is turned not aside from his aim. 
 
BAHRAM THE HUNTER 69 
 
 He is mixed with the streams that roll 
 
 Unending as man's desire, 
 
 That shall not abate of its fire 
 
 Till the whole world crumble in flame. 
 
THE DESERTED PALACE 
 
 " My feet are dead, the cold rain beats my face ! " 
 " Courage, sweet love, this tempest is our friend ! " 
 " Yet O, shall we not rest a little space ? 
 This city sleeps ; some corner may defend 
 Our weary bodies till the storm amend." 
 " So tired, dear heart ? Then we will seek some place 
 Safe from rude weather and this night air chill, 
 And prying eyes of those that mean us ill." 
 
 These lovers, fleeing through the midnight street. 
 Breathlessly pause amid the gusty moan 
 Of winds that have not heard their echoing feet. 
 Blind houses, towering up, leave light alone 
 From narrow skies in glimmering swiftness blown : 
 In front, from vales of darkness wild airs beat ; 
 Behind them, shouldering crests of cloudy pine 
 Looms, lost in heaven, the cloven Apennine. 
 
 Down the strange street their doubtful steps explore 
 Each shadowy archway, angle, and recess. 
 For shelter, nor have travelled far before 
 Giselda, half-despaired for weariness, 
 
 70 
 
THE DESERTED PALACE 71 
 
 Feels on her fingers Raymond lightly press ; 
 Heavy above the surging wind's uproar 
 With a dull echo, clanging now, then drowned, 
 Reverberates a sullen stormy sound. 
 
 What heart so fixed that darkness cannot shock ? 
 When the mind stumbles with the blind footfall, 
 What world may not a random sound unlock. 
 Wild as a fever-dream's original, 
 Where through black void we should for evet fall. 
 Did not our hearts freeze as in dungeon rock ? 
 So Night may mask, when reason, numbed in trance, 
 Quails at the wandering cyclops, idiot Chance. 
 
 Beyond a buttress both had crept more near. 
 In this dim wall was it a gate that swung? 
 Still hesitating, half-bewitched in fear, 
 Upon the silent intervals they hung. 
 Again it clanged as if the senseless tongue 
 Of Chaos knelled upon the startled ear, 
 Resounding mockery of that tranquil, bright 
 Well-featured earth men fable in daylight. 
 
 A gate so old it leaned and swung awry, 
 With such indifferent motion to and fro 
 As a stone rolled by shore waves fitfully. 
 Heavy and melancholy, wavering slow. 
 
72 THE DESERTED PALACE 
 
 Then closed and clashing with a sudden blow : 
 To what forlorn abode, left long to lie 
 For spider, gray owl, and the blind bat's wing, 
 Could this be door ? What ruin mouldering ? 
 
 Raymond with doubtful hand felt on the bar 
 Rusty and wet ; pushed slow the ponderous wood 
 That gaped on blackness ; moaning from afar 
 A riotous gust rolled back the hinge ; he stood, 
 And leaning pressed the dark weight all he could ; 
 Again it yielded with a grinding jar ; 
 They entered, where they knew not ; empty ground 
 Seemed closed by heights of doubled gloom around 
 
 " What place is this ? My feet tread soft on grass," 
 Giselda whispered. Raymond drew her on. 
 Across what seemed a weed-grown court they pass- 
 Black walls around them, heaven above them wan- 
 Till soon a row of pillars dimly shone 
 Before them, o'er wet marble steps. " Alas ! 
 I fear," she cried ; but he drew close to his 
 Her cheek, and made her blood brave with a kiss. 
 
 Wondering in that deserted colonnade. 
 They hearkened to the storm, less boisterous there. 
 Till to their peering sight a hollower shade 
 Signalled a doorway deep in quiet air ; 
 
THE DESERTED PALACE 73 
 
 And now their hearts beat at an omen fair ; 
 For venturing hands, on either doorpost laid, 
 Found, sculptured there, soft features of a child, 
 Where, ignorant of darkness, beauty smiled. 
 
 As sailors, nearing home, but blown from land. 
 When the wind bears them scent of fields they knew ; 
 As a blind father, when his son's young hand, 
 Laid confident on his, brings faith anew 
 In the lost light and the pure heavenly blue ; 
 As homeless Psyche, when she trembling scanned 
 Love's fair strange house, and a mild voice drew near 
 Invisibly, and soothed away her fear. 
 
 So thrilled by silent sweet encouragement. 
 As if some guardian presence ministered 
 To aid them, onward, hand in hand, they went. 
 No living sound in all the place they heard ; 
 Still on they groped, but not a form appeared ; 
 Sometimes beneath an arch their heads were bent : 
 At last a window, pallid through the gloom. 
 Showed them each other 'mid an empty room. 
 
 Each in the other's face, with breathing stilled, 
 The tender bright eyes tenderly discerned ; 
 And they embraced, while both their bosoms filled 
 With growing charm of peace so strangely earned. 
 
74 THE DESERTED PALACE 
 
 Rapt thus they stood, nor any longer turned 
 At sudden gusts that through the midnight thrilled. 
 He smoothed the rain-drops from her hair that strayed; 
 She smiled and spoke : " I am no more afraid." 
 
 But soon a nest secure from wind they found, 
 Pillowing their cloaks against the corner wall, 
 And rested happy ; there the roar was drowned, 
 And only in subsiding interval 
 Of shuddering flaws, they heard the rushing fall 
 From rain-swept eaves ; 'mid desolation round 
 Their hearts beat closer to each other, warm 
 Because of those wild blasts of wandering storm. 
 
 Giselda drooped her heavy-lidded eyes ; 
 Tired out, her peaceful bosom sank and swelled : 
 Soft upon Raymond's shoulder breathed her sighs ; 
 His fostering arm her leaning breast upheld ; 
 Her drowsing head by slumber sweetly quelled 
 Now and then, lifted in a child's surprise. 
 Murmured, and soon from all the long day's ache 
 Slipped into sleep ; but Raymond stayed awake. 
 
 Bold was his heart ; yet extreme tenderness 
 For that dear heaven enfolded in his arm 
 Sharpened his fond thoughts to a strange distress. 
 Threatening his secret storm-encircled charm. 
 
THE DESERTED PALACE 75 
 
 As by the violent waters walled from harm 
 Amidst the whirlpool's roaring heedlessness 
 A stillness keeps, most perfect, yet so frail, 
 That in an instant shattered it may fail. 
 
 Then he bethought him of what laughter dead 
 Had under those old rafters leapt and rung ; 
 What companies of joy had banqueted ; 
 What lovers listened and what ladies sung : 
 Here had they dwelt, been beautiful, been young ! 
 He bent in tears above that precious head 
 Slumbering, a thousand times more dear than life. 
 By him, and whispered, " O my wife, my wife ! 
 
 " Alas ! what eager hearts and hands once wrought 
 
 This chosen place to fashion and adorn ! 
 
 And now their names are faded out of thought. 
 
 And their fond toil neglected and forlorn. 
 
 This is their grave. O would that it were morn ! 
 
 All my great love in this dark house seems naught. 
 
 And I in a dead midnight-world alone, 
 
 Save for thy dear heart beating on my own. 
 
 " Beat close, warm heart, ere my sad spirit cower. 
 From those dead bosoms not a single sigh ! 
 Year heaped on year, hour creeping over hour. 
 The wilderness of silence spreads more nigh. 
 
76 THE DESERTED PALACE 
 
 And what a momentary moth am I ! 
 Beat nearer, heart ! tell me I still have power 
 To breathe, to move ; I grow so faint and dead, 
 So Time's wide seas weigh heavy on my head ! " 
 
 Thus murmuring with daunted forehead low 
 
 Leant to her breaths, he listened to the rain. 
 
 The gloom seemed living, seemed to tower and grow 
 
 O'er him, a shadow among shadows vain. 
 
 At last the thoughts grew cloudy in his brain ; 
 
 The young blood in his wearied limbs grew slow ; 
 
 His arms relaxed, and in his senses lulled 
 
 The sadness faded, exquisitely dulled. 
 
 Birds that have nested in tall elm-tree tops 
 
 Sleep not more sound, when winds that rock them roar, 
 
 Whirling dry leaves about the wintry copse. 
 
 Than both slept now, while on the wild night wore. 
 
 At last the storm ebbed and was heard no more. 
 
 Save in brief gusts and sudden shaken drops : 
 
 The dawn came hushed, and found each peaceful face 
 
 Turned to the other in entranced embrace. 
 
 Raymond awoke. It was the early light 
 
 That stole through half-closed shutters o'er the room : 
 
 With gleaming stillness it caressed his sight. 
 
 And on the floor lay tender like a bloom. 
 
THE DESERTED PALACE 77 
 
 It seemed his own heart wholly to illume, 
 Soft as a smile, and growing slowly bright. 
 Spilled its reflected clearness everywhere 
 Into all corners of that chamber bare. 
 
 Slow in delicious languor turn his eyes 
 Wondering around him. Still Giselda dreams ; 
 But all things else how new a wonder dyes ! 
 From the sunned floor the young light upward gleams, 
 Hovers about the ceiling's coffered beams, 
 And those deep squares of shadow glorifies. 
 Smiling fresh colours on the cornice old 
 And shielded corbels' rich abraded gold ; 
 
 Where underneath, in clear or faded stain. 
 The walls were pictured with old stories fair : 
 The selfsame walls that, prisoning his pain. 
 Gloomed yesternight so desolately bare 
 Now blushed and gloried in the morning air, 
 More beautiful in Time's enchanting wane. 
 As leaves by spoiling Autumn fostered few 
 Treasure the wonder of her tenderest hue. 
 
 On the left hand there was a wild seashore. 
 And Hero, leaning from her turret lone. 
 Gazed out impassioned where the surge upbore 
 Leander's face turned fainting to her own. 
 
78 THE DESERTED PALACE 
 
 Careless of chill spray through her deep hair blown, 
 She stretched her arms, never to clasp him more. 
 Even now his hands were tossed up in the foam. 
 But from his eyes his soul leapt towards its home. 
 
 Upon the right flushed Cephalus hallooed, 
 Parting green thickets ; knew his spear had sped, 
 But knew not yet the white doe of that wood 
 Was his own Procris. Low her piteous head 
 Lay on the grass ; her bosom brightly bled, 
 And her lips trembling strove, while yet they could, 
 To pardon the dear hand that wrought that wound. 
 While dumbly she caressed his whimpering hound. 
 
 These upon either end wall were pourtrayed ; 
 But in the midst was Orpheus with his lyre. 
 Singing to the ear of one beloved shade. 
 Lost somewhere in those aisles of gloomy fire. 
 Only for her he poured his soul's desire : 
 Yet the grim Pluto hearkened as he played. 
 And Proserpine remembered the sweet spring, 
 And with wet cheek besought him still to sing. 
 
 Eurydice, through darkness music-drawn. 
 Was gliding (none forbad her) toward his feet ; 
 And other ghosts like, in the earliest dawn. 
 Sparrows that stir and raise their restless tweet, 
 
THE DESERTED PALACE 79 
 
 Stole fluttering, because of sound so sweet, 
 Over the pale flowers of their shadowy lawn. 
 Lifting their drooping heads as they drew nigh ; 
 And all those faces listening seemed to sigh. 
 
 Love, whom no goal, no haven satisfies. 
 Love hungered and athirst, bound, scarred, and lame, 
 Proud rebel, who through fading mortal eyes 
 Shoots beams of that clear fire Time cannot tame, 
 Burned here in suffering flesh his beacon flame. 
 Ah, who can read these passionate histories. 
 Nor feel vibrations as of music roll 
 Ennobling challenge to his kindled soul ? 
 
 Raymond beheld them ; and it seemed all time. 
 
 Till now a cave of dimness, without hue. 
 
 Flushed back love's colours from its farthest prime. 
 
 Claiming the sacrificial fire anew 
 
 From his full heart. Nay, every age foreknew 
 
 This moment, and the dumb years seemed to climb 
 
 Patiently growing toward this latest hour 
 
 That bore his own love like a folded flower. 
 
 He hung above her slumber, and he spelled 
 Upon her face the still soul unaware. 
 A whiter throat than Hero's sorrow swelled 
 Shone faint beside the flame-brown wave of hair 
 
8o THE DESERTED PALACE 
 
 But on her cheek the blood's clear tinge how rare ! 
 And the red mouth, how sweet a song it held 
 Asleep until the living dawn should rise 
 Brimmed in the perfect sunbirth of her eyes ! 
 
 O surely here the dead world's shadow-brood 
 Of spirits yearning from the misty tomb 
 Hung o'er the presage of earth's coming good, 
 And poured for her their prayerful hope, in whom 
 Life triumphing wore all their ravished bloom — 
 Soft image of immortal womanhood. 
 For whose dear sake the world waits in its need, 
 And heroes of the farthest age must bleed. 
 
 Raymond gazed on, and could not gaze his fill, 
 
 Rapt on a silent stream of thought afloat. 
 
 The soft light stirred not ; all the house was still ; 
 
 Only at times with negligent sweet note 
 
 A thrush without would fill his freshened throat, 
 
 Where the sun slept on the warm window sill, 
 
 And in translucent leaves of trailing vine 
 
 Melted his glittering rays to golden wine. 
 
 Giselda's face gleamed in the shadowed light. 
 He bent to wake her ; then again delayed, 
 Lingering upon the foretaste of delight. 
 " O you dear spirits," suddenly he prayed, 
 
THE DESERTED PALACE 8i 
 
 " Whose hearts imagined and whose hands arrayed 
 This home in beauty, ere you turned to night, 
 And having shed your grosser mortal part 
 Live in the beatings of the gazer's heart ! 
 
 Peace be upon you, peace for ever be ! 
 
 Let my lips bless you, whose bright faith unmarred 
 
 Shows me the core of my felicity. 
 
 And who, though deep in drear oblivion barred. 
 
 Committing Sorrow into Beauty's guard, 
 
 Pour your immortal ardour into me : 
 
 To such a faith all my desire I vow, 
 
 May it burn ever as 'tis kindled now ! 
 
 Wake, love, awake. O thou art grown so dear. 
 Yet in the enriching beams of this new day 
 So glorious a spirit, I almost fear 
 That from sleep's prison thou wilt soar away 
 Beyond the stretching of my arms. Nay, nay, 
 I'll hazard hope for truth. Love, I am here. 
 Shine out thine answer from those opening eyes, 
 And lift my soul up into Paradise ! " 
 
 Enraptured thus, he kissed her. She awoke. 
 Her gaze that wandered, anchored upon his 
 In happiness, and dreamingly she spoke : 
 " Do I sleep still ? Or what fair house is this ? 
 
 G 
 
82 THE DESERTED PALACE 
 
 Smiling, he answered with joy's perfect kiss, 
 And raised her up and wrapt her in her cloak. 
 So both stole forth. The still world seemed to lie 
 Their radiant kingdom under the wide sky : 
 Young was the morning, and their hearts were high. 
 
SANTA CRISTINA 
 
 At Tiro, in her father's tower, 
 The young Cristina had her bower, 
 Over blue Bolsena's lake, 
 Where small frolic ripples break 
 Under a grove of sycamore 
 On the sandy eastern shore. 
 There one clear May eve she sat 
 Leaning over the rich mat 
 Hung across the window-sill. 
 While her doves with eager bill 
 Fluttered round her for the grain 
 In her spread hands ; up again 
 Now they soared through golden light, 
 Radiant in a swerve of white. 
 Round the trees, now scattering 
 With a shiver of many a wing, 
 Soft as snowy drops of foam 
 Singly they alighted home. 
 And swaying each a sheeny throat 
 Crooned their comfortable note. 
 
 On a sudden another sound 
 Smote Cristina from the ground. 
 83 
 
84 SANTA CRISTINA 
 
 Bending over, she espied 
 
 Wretched ragged folk, who cried. 
 
 Hoarsely : " See, the doves are fed ; 
 
 We, men and women, have not bread." 
 
 While Cristina, with a shy. 
 
 Courteous simplicity. 
 
 Looked upon them, her young heart. 
 
 New to sorrow, felt the dart 
 
 Of pity pierce her body through, 
 
 And she spoke : " What must I do ? " 
 
 Then with a thought her bosom beat, 
 
 And swift away on frightened feet 
 
 To her father's chapel, rich 
 
 With images in carven niche. 
 
 Breathless and bright-eyed she sped, 
 
 Most in dread of her own dread. 
 
 Traitor to her purpose ; took 
 
 The idols in her hands that shook 
 
 And brought them gathered in her gown 
 
 And from the window cast them down. 
 
 The ragged people cried and snatched 
 
 This broken treasure ; then were matched 
 
 Strange companions : here the bust 
 
 Of gazing Jupiter august 
 
 Weighed on a sore-blotched cripple ; there 
 
 Against a scullion's clouted hair 
 
 Apollo's silver shoulder shone, 
 
 While, near by, a withered crone 
 
 Hugged into her bosom old 
 
SANTA CRISTINA 85 
 
 Venus' arm and breast of gold. 
 Mumbling o'er their spoils they went, 
 A troop to stir the merriment 
 Of gods ; but sad Cristina sobbed. 
 
 When the stately father robbed, 
 
 Entering found his pagan shrine 
 
 Emptied of its works divine, 
 
 Each by a famous craftsman wrought. 
 
 Chosen well and dearly bought, 
 
 And suffered only to be scanned 
 
 (With fond touches of the hand) 
 
 By the nice appraising eye, , 
 
 Duke Urban cried a grievous cry : 
 
 But when at last he understood 
 
 The crime of his own flesh and blood, 
 
 Grief was swallowed up in rage. 
 
 " Pest on this corrupted age ! " 
 
 He cried. " This is this new god's work. 
 
 And now I find the venom lurk 
 
 In my own child, in my own home ! 
 
 I am a citizen of Rome, 
 
 She shall have justice : take her hence. 
 
 And let my dungeon teach her sense." 
 
 Cristina weeping pleads the pain 
 
 Of the famished folk ; in vain ! 
 
 Straightway she is cast and bound 
 
 In a dungeon underground. 
 
86 SANTA CRISTINA 
 
 Three days went. " Now bring her out," 
 Said Urban. Servants, much in doubt, 
 Led her from the dungeon door. 
 Much in doubt yet wondering more. 
 For the damp and starving gloom 
 Had but glorified her bloom. 
 And her brow was brave, as she 
 Stepped before her father : he 
 With a sullen doubtful glance 
 Some moments looked on her askance. 
 " Art thou taught ? " at last he said. 
 Proud she lifted up her head. 
 " Father, if I wronged thee, thou 
 Didst mar the face of mercy. Now, 
 By God's grace, thy cruel wrong 
 Hath but made my soul more strong. 
 I have suffered for thy pride : 
 Let thy poor be satisfied. 
 See, God stands upon my side ! " 
 Duke Urban flushed an angry hue. 
 " Wilt thou brave me to thy rue. 
 Child ? " he cried. " Since in thee still 
 Some imp of evil works his will. 
 Pricking thee outrageously, 
 I will burn him out of thee. 
 Go, build a furnace ; bind her in, 
 And let the flame purge out her sin." 
 All her women wept, implored, 
 " Ah, be merciful, dear lord ! " 
 
SANTA CRISTINA 87 
 
 But the more imperious came 
 
 His answer-: " Cast her to the flame." 
 
 When that evening fell, a light 
 Rose and shuddered up the night. 
 On the reddened shore around 
 Soldiers kept the fiery ground, 
 Where amid the furnace stood 
 Cristina : spite of hardihood, 
 None but turned away his eye 
 To see so sweet a creature die. 
 Swifter roared the bright fire, dancing 
 Madder, on their armour glancing. 
 While the people kneeling wailed. 
 Suddenly all faces paled. 
 In their ears a clear voice sang. 
 From amidst the fire it sprang 
 Joyous ; and the soldiers raised 
 Their heads, and all the people gazed ; 
 There in the moving crimson core 
 Of the flames that sound and soar. 
 Coil and quiver, twist and spire, 
 'Mid the insufferable fire. 
 Like a breathing beauteous rose. 
 Nay, like a precious vase that glows 
 Outlined intense and clear and white. 
 Absorbing all the burning light 
 Into its tissue, through and through. 
 To purify the shell-like hue. 
 
88 SANTA CRISTINA 
 
 They behold Cristina stand, 
 
 Lifting either Httle hand, 
 
 And with parted lips, and eyes 
 
 That the fierce flame glorifies. 
 
 See her form transfigured shine 
 
 Singing in that fiery shrine — 
 
 An embodied rapture ! Awe 
 
 Fell upon all them that saw. 
 
 The young voice melted in their ears. 
 
 And beauty hushed them into tears. 
 
 Heaven seemed opening on their sight 
 
 To its inmost soul of light, 
 
 And the daily world of woes 
 
 Fell from off them, and they rose 
 
 In a rapture : faces, turned 
 
 Each unto his neighbour, burned. 
 
 While they cried with voices full, 
 
 " A miracle, a miracle ! " 
 
 Urban in his dark tower heard 
 Trembling that exultant word. 
 Rage by stabbing terror spurred 
 Swelled his heart to madness. Straight 
 With a torch from the open gate 
 Striding he commanded : " Curst 
 Be this snake that I have nursed ! 
 She has witched to her desire 
 A demon lover, a fiend of fire ; 
 Yet she shall not 'scape me now. 
 
SANTA CRISTINA 89 
 
 Ere another night, I vow, 
 
 She shall die. With morning take 
 
 And throw her deep into the lake." 
 
 Though men groaned and women shrieked 
 At such cruel vengeance wreaked, 
 None this old man's rage gainsaid ; 
 For within their hearts they prayed 
 Some new marvel should confound 
 All his fury. 
 
 Morning found. 
 On the glimmering shore assembled, 
 A great multitude that trembled 
 Half with hope and half with fear. 
 Hemmed behind the levelled spear 
 Of armed ranks ; and over all. 
 Ringed by silent lances tall. 
 In a high seat Urban sat, 
 By threatening fingers pointed at. 
 Motionless with eager frown 
 And on the wide lake gazing down. 
 Soon the sun's uprising glowed 
 Over the eastern hill, and showed, 
 'Mid the waters that anew 
 Shivered silvering into blue, 
 A single boat ; it brightly shone 
 Where Cristina knelt thereon. 
 And the hangman at her side 
 Busy bending over tied 
 
90 SANTA CRISTINA 
 
 Round her neck a great mill-stone ; 
 In the water she was thrown. 
 Passionate arose the groan 
 From those watchers, but as soon 
 Changed into a paean's tune ; 
 For she sank not, but was seen. 
 Where death's bubble should have been. 
 Standing on the stone that bore 
 Her bare feet floating toward the shore, 
 With little tremblings at the knees 
 As the buoyant, urging breeze 
 Rocked her onward. With a shout 
 Thronged the people, stretching out 
 Eager arms, or under spears 
 Thrust their heads with joyful tears. 
 Clapped their hands and cried to see 
 So magical a wonder. She, 
 Simple in her loveliness. 
 By one hand holding up her dress 
 From the wave that washed its hem 
 With white sparkle, seemed to them 
 Fresh as Venus on her shell 
 Borne o'er the blue Ionian swell. 
 Round her head the soft-blown hair 
 Played in sunny streams of air, 
 Save one long tress on her breast 
 That her clasping fingers pressed. 
 In a dream she heard the cries, 
 Saw the bright and crowding eyes 
 
SANTA CRISTINA 91 
 
 Near and nearer ; when a strong 
 Sudden tumult rose ; the throng 
 Turned, and lo ! on his high chair, 
 'Mid the spearmen struggling there, 
 Duke Urban with head fallen back 
 And the full vein swollen black 
 On his throat : his fingers tear 
 At the suffocating fear 
 That holds him by the panting heart 
 Breathless, and his fixed eyes start, 
 While the heaving hubbub round 
 Rocks about him ; in hoarse sound 
 Of vengeance his death-gasp is drowned. 
 
 But Cristina floating nigh 
 
 When she saw this, piteously 
 
 Bowed her gentle forehead low 
 
 In her hands, and cried, " Ah, woe 
 
 On me and mine ! O Lord of Peace, 
 
 Now my wretchedness release ! " 
 
 Even as in despair she prayed. 
 
 One that on the shore delayed 
 
 At the crowd's edge, watching all 
 
 And doubtful what might yet befall. 
 
 Scowled and said within his teeth, 
 
 " This witch-girl comes to be our death," 
 
 Strung his bow and spurred by fear 
 
 Drew an arrow to his ear. 
 
 And while still this fierce uproar 
 
92 SANTA CRISTINA 
 
 Held the wild throng on the shore 
 Sharp upon the tender throat 
 The iron barb Cristina smote. 
 Ere a man had turned to note, 
 She was falling ; ere a tongue 
 Had one cry of warning rung, 
 She had fallen, and the foam 
 Tossing shoreward washed her home. 
 As a sudden silence rushed 
 Over lips in terror hushed. 
 Rolled amid the shallow spray 
 At their feet her body lay. 
 
 Dark is the world to the weak will 
 As to feet stumbling on a hill 
 Benighted, when no stars appear. 
 But as a star that beacons clear, 
 O beauty of courage, thou dost shine 
 On souls that falter and that pine. 
 But most in bodies frail and young 
 Is thy beauty seen and sung. 
 There, like a fountain ever new, 
 Thou dost scatter sunny dew, 
 Troubling our self-bewildered night 
 With simplicity of light. 
 Therefore is Bolsena's lake 
 Dear for fair Cristina's sake. 
 Yea, the stone that bore her feet 
 And still bears the footprint sweet. 
 
SANTA CRISTINA 93 
 
 Housed in alabaster shrine 
 Of carved work, as a thing divine, 
 And by dead lips' kisses worn, 
 Shall be kissed in sorrow's scorn 
 By lips of thousands yet unborn. 
 
WORDS 
 
 Words, breathing words, full-murmuring syllables ! 
 How you enrich the thoughts that dwell in you 
 With far-brought perfume, that no meaning tells 
 Yet stirs the mind to flower in thoughts anew ! 
 
 Sometimes how lulling like the rain's soft veil. 
 Then vivid as the pressure of a hand, 
 Now filled with fair surmises like a sail 
 Before the blue coast of some foreign land. 
 
 O words, you live and therefore you can die. 
 Ill-yoked, imprisoned, tamed in a dull task ! 
 So callous tongues may use you, but not I, 
 Who for your grace, a wooing lover, ask. 
 
 Dead things may kill ; and you being dead entomb 
 The frozen thought that once you clothed in bloom. 
 
 94 
 
A PRAYER TO TIME 
 
 Move onward, Time, and bring us sooner free 
 From this self-clouding turmoil where we ply 
 On others' errands driven continually : 
 O lead us to our own souls, ere we die ! 
 
 We toil for that we love not ; thou concealest 
 Our true loves from us ; all we thirst to attain 
 Thou darkly holdest, and alone revealest 
 A mirror that our sighs for ever stain. 
 
 Art thou so jealous of our full delight ? 
 Thou takest our strength, toil, fervour, and sweet youth; 
 And when thou hast taken these, thou givest sight 
 At last to see and to endure the truth. 
 
 Thou art too swift to our weak steps ; but oh, 
 To our desire thou movest. Time, how slow ! 
 
 95 
 
NOTE 
 
 The Author desires to express his thanks 
 to the Editors of the Monthly Review, the 
 Speaker, the Saturday Review, the Student, 
 the Sheaf, the Tiger, and the Dome, for 
 permission to reprint various pieces in this 
 book. 
 
 PLYMOUTH 
 WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, PRINTERS