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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
MARAH 
 
MARAH 
 
 OWEN MEREDITH 
 
 
 w: 
 
 NEW YORK 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 AND LONDON 
 1892 
 
 h\ij X 
 

 Copyright, 1892 
 By LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 TROW DIRECTORY 
 
 PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
PREFACE 
 
 These poems, written in leisure hours during the 
 past and previous years, were already in proof at 
 the time of my husband's death, and he was occu- 
 pied during the last few weeks of his life in revis- 
 ing them. No doubt they would have received 
 from himself still further correction, and he had 
 ordered several privately printed copies, to submit 
 to the judgment of friends. These did not arrive 
 till the day after his death. 
 
 While each of the poems is complete in itself, 
 they are so arranged as to form a connected whole, 
 and are meant to be read consecutively. My hus- 
 band's intention was to represent progressive 
 
MARAH 
 
 stages of feeling, and, in accordance with this 
 design, he divided the book into four parts, each 
 with its corresponding motto prefixed. There was 
 a poem originally included in the first part which 
 he did not think good enough, and had made up 
 his mind to omit. The last days of his life were 
 spent, as if in haste, in the composition of another, 
 to take its place. This was never finished, but I 
 give the fragment at the end of the volume, as I 
 found it by his bedside, with the ink hardly dry 
 on the paper. 
 
 A longer and more elaborate poetical work is 
 also ready for publication, but my husband con- 
 templated publishing these shorter poems first, 
 and they will, I am sure, be especially welcomed 
 by the old faithful friends and admirers of "Owen 
 Meredith." 
 
 E. L. 
 
 Bramfield House : 
 
 Jamiary 9, 1892. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PROLOGUE I 
 
 I. 
 
 TEARS ARE CHRISTIAN, KISSES PAGAN . . . . 4 
 
 "THAT IS THE QUESTION" 5 
 
 HIC INCEPIT 6 
 
 CHI LO SA? 8 
 
 IF .... ? . . . IO 
 
 TELEPATHY . 15 
 
 HER PORTRAIT 17 
 
 DEFECTIVE TITLE 21 
 
 INVESTITURE 22 
 
 CORROBORATION 23 
 
 SUMMER NIGHT 26 
 
 vii 
 
MARAH 
 
 PAGE 
 
 AWAY ! 28 
 
 ABSENCE 30 
 
 WAITING 32 
 
 DEATH 34 
 
 II. 
 
 / gave her love: i gave her faith, &*c. . . 40 
 
 experientia docet ? 41 
 
 omens and oracles 44 
 
 idolatry 46 
 
 antagonisms 48 
 
 amari aliquid 50 
 
 ars amoris 51 
 
 marah's dower 54 
 
 rubies and pearls 55 
 
 dreams 58 
 
 figures of speech 67 
 
 the only difference 69 
 
 ONE ROSE 70 
 
 BY THE GATES OF HELL 71 
 
 WHEN ALL IS OVER 73 
 
 viii 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 III. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 IF THOU ART STILL A GRIEF LESS GIRL OR BOY . 78 
 
 LIFE . . . . . ■ 79 
 
 SEMPER EADEM 80 
 
 FIRELIGHT . . 82 
 
 GHOSTS 84 
 
 NUNC STANS 87 
 
 PERVERSITY .89 
 
 HAUNTED 90 
 
 EPISODE . . g2 
 
 LIES . . . . . . . . . 94 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST 98 
 
 HORACE AND LYDIA {Modern) IOO 
 
 fugiens imago iio 
 
 still! 114 
 
 SELENE Il6 
 
 TRAVELLING ACQUAINTANCES 122 
 
MARAH 
 
 IV. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 / HAVE SEARCHED THE UNIVERSE, &c. 1 32 
 
 SEAWARD 133 
 
 NOCTURN 135 
 
 OCEANUS I37 
 
 A LOST CHANCE I43 
 
 SATURNALIA I46 
 
 PERTURBATION 1 53 
 
 STORM 157 
 
 DIMINUENDO . . . " . . . . 164 
 
 MOONLAND l66 
 
 SELENITES 172 
 
 SOMNIUM BELLUINUM 1 75 
 
 EPILOGUE 187 
 
 APPENDIX — LORD LYTTON'S LAST POEM . . 193 
 
PROLOGUE 
 
 Lured by the promise of a better land, 
 They wander'd in the wilderness of Shur : 
 
 Vagrants, from bondage fled, a weary band, 
 Whose weariness each day made wearier ; 
 
 And waterless was all the desert sand, 
 No wells. at hand! 
 
 A place at last they reach'd, in sore distress, 
 Where water flow'd, but from a bitter spring. 
 
 Then cried they, ' Here we die of thirst, unless 
 God turn this bitter sweet!' And, murmuring, 
 
 They call'd it Marah. Nor can speech express 
 More bitterness. 
 
I. 
 
I 
 
 Tears are CJiristian, kisses Pagan. Love is both, 
 
 and each his prize. 
 On his lips are Pagan kisses, Christian tears are in 
 
 his eyes. 
 
 2 
 
 Magdalens with Moenads mingle in his rites, and 
 
 round his way 
 Intertwine the rose of Paphos with the thorns of 
 
 Golgotha. 
 
 3 
 Thorn or rose, which best becomes him ? Both his 
 
 loveliness endears : 
 Roses red with Pagan kisses, thorns bedew' d with 
 
 Christian tears I 
 
THAT IS THE QUESTION' 
 
 One ask'd me suddenly if I thought her fair ; 
 
 And then, for the first time, I felt, ' How dull 
 These eyes, that have so long been unaware 
 
 Whether she is, or is not, beautiful ! ' 
 
 But I have had no time to find that out, 
 
 Nor thought to spare to it from days all pass'd 
 
 In one continual fluctuating doubt 
 
 Whether she loves me yet, or will at last. 
 
HIC INCEPIT 
 
 Something wild as the heart of a boy 
 (But what is it ?) awakens in me, 
 
 Like the love of a love, and the joy 
 Of a joy, that are going to be ; 
 
 2 
 
 Or the nebulous beam in the breast 
 Of a mist the moon brightens behind ; 
 
 A prediction that does but suggest 
 A fulfilment it leaves undefined. 
 
 6 
 
H1C INCEPIT 
 
 3 
 
 It was born of a breath and a dream, 
 Tis the soul of a look or a tone, 
 
 And the parent of pleasures that seem 
 But as preludes to others unknown. 
 
 Yet how soon could its sweetness be kill'd 
 By the pang of a premature bliss, 
 
 And so die of a promise fulfill'd 
 On the lips I am longing to kiss ! 
 
CHI LO SA f 
 
 Prithee tell me, Sweet, how shall I ever 
 
 Have deserved thee ? What trials, what tears, 
 
 What renewals of daily endeavour, 
 
 What endurance of sorrowful years, 
 
 May bear witness how well I have loved thee, 
 
 And establish my claim to thy heart ? 
 
 Or when long thou hast tried me and proved me, 
 
 Will it be but to bid me depart ? 
 
 Ah, could love be obtain'd for love's sake ! 
 
 But the gift is bestow'd, and not owed, 
 
 Nor can worth any claim to it make. 
 
 For the blessing of love is a boon from above 
 
 And no heed of desert doth it take. 
 
CHI LO SA? 
 
 Blowing tree, the full blossoms that bend thee 
 
 May be all of them promises vain ! 
 
 Who can say whether heaven will yet send thee 
 
 The good chance of its ripening rain ? 
 
 Glowing heart, the fond dreams that possess thee 
 
 May be all lying prophets at best ! 
 
 Who can say if she ever will bless thee 
 
 With one moment of bliss on her breast ? 
 
 Ah, could love be obtain'd for love's sake ! 
 
 But 'tis purchased by none, nor yet won, 
 
 Tho' to win it life's all be the stake. 
 
 For the blessing of love is a boon from above, 
 
 And no heed of desert doth it take. 
 
IF 
 
 So you but love me, be it your own way, 
 
 In your own time, no sooner than you will, 
 No warmer than you would from day to day, 
 But love me still ! 
 
 Each day that still you love me seems to me 
 
 A little fairer than the day before ; 
 For, daily given, love's least must daily be 
 A little more. 
 
IF . . . . ? 
 
 3 
 
 And be my most gain'd your least given, if such 
 
 Your sweet will be ! I reckon not the cost, 
 Nor count the gain, by little or by much, 
 Or least or most. 
 
 4 
 
 Little or much, to me the gift I crave 
 
 Is all in all. There is not any measure 
 Of more or less can gauge the need I have 
 Of that dear treasure. 
 
 5 
 
 So you but love me, tho' your love be cold, 
 
 Mine it can chill not. Tho' your love come 
 late, 
 Mine for its coming, by sweet dreams foretold, 
 Will dreaming wait. 
 
MARAH 
 
 Yet ah, if some far chance, before I die, 
 
 One hour of waking life might let me live, 
 Rich with the dream'd-of dear reality 
 'Tis yours to give ! 
 
 7 
 Your whole sweet self, with your sweet self's 
 whole love! 
 Those eyes of fire and dew, those lips wish- 
 haunted, 
 Those feet whose steps like elfin music move 
 Thro' worlds enchanted ! 
 
 8 
 Your whole sweet self! The unutter'd thoughts 
 that stir 
 Your lonest musings with light wings unheard, 
 And feelings that find no interpreter 
 In deed or word ! 
 
IF 
 
 Your whole sweet self, that, till by love reveal'd, 
 
 Even to yourself still half unknown must be ! 
 For of the wealth in souls like yours conceal'd 
 Love keeps the key. 
 
 10 
 
 Ah, if your whole sweet self, by all the power 
 
 Of your sweet self's whole love in some divine 
 Far distant hour made wholly yours, that hour 
 Made wholly mine, 
 
 II 
 
 And if in that blest hour all dreams came true, 
 
 All doubts dissolved, all fears were whirl'd away 
 In one wild storm of tendernesses new 
 As time's first day, 
 
MARAH 
 12 
 
 What should we both be ? Hush ! I do not dare 
 
 Even to hear my own heart's whisper utter'd 
 Be its sole answerer the silent air 
 This sigh has flutter'd ! 
 
TELEPA THY 
 
 Last night we met, where others meet, 
 
 To part as others part ; 
 And greeted but as others greet, 
 
 Who greet not heart to heart ; 
 
 We talk'd of other things, and then 
 
 To other folk pass'd by ; 
 You turn'd and sat with other men ; 
 
 With other women, I. 
 
MAR AH 
 
 And yet a world of things unsaid 
 Meanwhile between us pass'd ; 
 
 Your cheek my phantom kiss flush'd red, 
 And you look'd up at last ; 
 
 And then your glance met mine midway 
 
 Across the chattering crowd ; 
 And all that heart to heart can say 
 
 Was in that glance avow'd. 
 
HER PORTRAIT 
 
 Her form has the mingled grace 
 Of a child and a queen in one. 
 
 There is pride in her pure young face, 
 In her voice is a far-off tone, 
 And her eyes have the gaze of a forest creature 
 That has lived in the woods alone. 
 
 A creature whose steps are light 
 As the leaflets brusht by its brow, 
 
 When 'tis stay'd in its buoyant flight 
 By the sound of a rustling bough, 
 17 
 
MA RAH 
 
 And, suddenly motionless, looks and listens 
 As she looks and is listening now. 
 
 But a young queen, too, she looks. 
 
 And I think that a woodland doe, 
 If transform'd, as in fairy books, 
 
 By the magic of long ago 
 To a mystical, milk-white, maiden princess 
 
 Would listen and look just so. 
 
 Her summers, at most nineteen, 
 Are yet short of a single score ; 
 
 Twice as much has the number been 
 Of my winters, and something more ; 
 And my knowledge of life is a cramm'd museum, 
 Hers only an infant's store. 
 
 x8 
 
HER PORTRAIT 
 
 5 
 Yet I see but thro' her wild eyes, 
 
 And my thoughts are whatever she thinks ; 
 If she praises, I feel I am wise ; 
 
 If she censures, my confidence sinks ; 
 And, as judged by the least of her looks and glances, 
 My spirit expands or shrinks. 
 
 6 
 
 Ihave faced the world in my day, 
 And have fought it and overthrown ; 
 
 I have struggled and won my way, 
 And no rival has beaten me down ; 
 Yet my courage fails, and my whole frame falters, 
 If she chances to chide or frown. 
 
 7 
 Her light little step outstrips 
 My stride, to ascents sublime ; 
 
MARAH 
 
 Hid in shadows that haunt her lips 
 Are the secrets of space and time ; 
 And, attuned to the music around her moving, 
 The stars in their courses chime. 
 
 8 
 
 She has read not the tedious tale 
 
 Of the dead world's grief and glee, 
 Nor been stirr'd by the shrill birth-wail 
 Of the ages beginning to be ; 
 But she carries secure at her simple girdle 
 The Infinite's golden key. 
 
 9 
 I have gather'd what life can give, 
 With the prizes its pains confer; 
 Yet for naught do I care to live 
 But to love and be loved by her. 
 Fate, grant me but this, and all gains and glories 
 I surrender without demur! 
 
DEFECTIVE TITLE 
 
 Mine, and mine only, and all mine, 
 Spirit and flesh, and brain and heart, 
 
 By right of birth, and right divine, 
 And every right but one, thou art. 
 
 But, wanting that one right, I know 
 The rest are wrongs without redress. 
 
 Ah, child, a kingless kingdom thou, 
 And I a king that's kingdomless ! 
 
INVESTITURE 
 
 i 
 
 KiNGDOMLESS ? No ! For infinite 
 The kingdom is, thro' thee made mine ; 
 
 And there I reign by royal right 
 Sole lord of regions all divine. 
 
 Nor kingless thou, whose monarch crown'd 
 And robed am I, in realms afar, 
 
 Fairer than all that here are found 
 On earth. For not of earth they are. 
 
CORROBORA TION 
 
 Is it the echo of a word, 
 
 Whose lingering tones betoken 
 I dream'd it not, but really heard ? 
 
 And was it sung, or spoken ? 
 
 Some great good news has come to me, 
 I know. But who averr'd it ? 
 
 And it is true ? And was it she 
 That whisper'd, I that heard, it ? 
 
MARAH 
 
 So light that whisper fell, methought 
 No sense but mine it flutter'd. 
 
 What tell-tale Spirit can have caught 
 A sound so softly utter'd, 
 
 And spread the message wide, and told 
 The gathering stars to greet it 
 
 With signals flash'd from shafts of gold, 
 The sea-waves to repeat it, 
 
 The woods its influence to attest, 
 
 And the soft winds that heave them ? 
 
 They all assure me I am blest, 
 And I must needs believe them. 
 
C ORR OB OR A TION 
 
 Stars, waves, and woods, and winds, no fear 
 
 Have I lest you be lying, 
 For to your tale my heart can hear 
 
 The harps of Heaven replying. 
 
 25 
 
SUMMER NIGHT 
 
 The summer night fills heaven's remotest spheres 
 With stars and meteors. And with fluttering 
 fires 
 My heart's thrill'd deeps . are throng'd by radiant 
 tears 
 
 And bright desires. 
 
 Heaven and my heart these summer glories share. 
 
 Nor ever, since Latona brought to birth 
 The first New Moon, has summer night so fair 
 Bless'd heaven and earth. 
 
 26 
 
SUMMER NIGHT 
 3 
 
 Heaven's own the stars are, and the meteors 
 mine 
 The tears and the desires, that meteors are 
 And stars of another heaven, no less divine, 
 Tho' not so far. 
 
 Tears into stars distill'd from that delight 
 
 The nightingale to the sweet silence sings ! 
 Desires that roam love's fervid infinite 
 On flaming wings, 
 
 5 
 The meteor-pulses of its palpitatn blue ! 
 
 And tears, desires, and stars, the night and I, 
 All, all, are tremulous with thoughts of you, 
 Each thought a joy ! 
 
AWAY/ 
 
 Come away, love ! With me, love, away ! 
 
 Far away from the world that we know, 
 Far from all we have done till to-day, 
 
 And from all we have been until now 
 Far away ! 
 
 Set impassable distance between 
 
 All that was and that is ! And let naught 
 Be remember'd, heard, spoken, or seen 
 
 That can ever remind us of aught 
 That has been ! 
 
AWAY ! 
 
 3 
 Of the past every vestige efface, 
 
 With its doings, whatever they were ! 
 Of each circumstance, person, and place 
 That have been its accomplices, spare 
 Not a trace ! 
 
 4 
 And discard with the days that are done 
 
 All their cumbrous caparisonings ! 
 Of old habitudes need have we none, 
 Who have only to spread out our wings 
 And be gone. 
 
 5 
 But wherever they bear us away, 
 
 Be it far from the world that we know ! 
 Far from all we have done till to-day, 
 And from all we have been until now 
 Far away ! 
 
ABSENCE 
 
 Not in my life, but yours, I live ; 
 
 And from myself I seem to be 
 As far away, dear fugitive, 
 
 As you are far from me. 
 
 Unlit by you, no light have I, 
 
 A fainting lamp that's fed by none ! 
 
 The earth seems left without a sky, 
 The sky without a sun. 
 
ABSENCE 
 3 
 
 Come back ! come back ! And with you bring 
 
 All that with you is gone away, 
 Warmth, light, life, love, and everything 
 
 That stays but where you stay ! 
 
WAITING 
 
 The years that are before us still 
 
 May to our lives allot 
 Mischance of many a kind, and fill 
 Time's empty lap with many an ill. 
 
 That thought affrights me not. 
 
 But six short weeks are still to pass 
 
 Before the long'd-for day 
 That brings her back ; and these, alas ! 
 If these go wrong ? The future has 
 
 For me no worse dismay. 
 
WAITING 
 
 3 
 Only six weeks ! But each contains 
 
 How many perilous hours ! 
 Each hour how many possible pains, 
 How many risks ! . What blights and banes 
 
 To dread from unknown Powers ! 
 
 4 
 With her, no fears my heart appal, 
 
 Tho' life with ills be throng'd : 
 Without her, no mischance so small 
 But it may prove the worst of all, 
 
 Absence from her prolong'd ! 
 
 5 
 I dread not foes that love may find 
 
 Along the distant track 
 Of future years. But O, be kind, 
 You Powers that now rule wave and wind, 
 
 And bring her safely back ! 
 
DEATH 
 
 She came not back. She will not come again ; 
 And I shall never any more behold 
 Her dear, dear face. But absence was worse pain 
 Than death is now that Memory keeps safe hold 
 Of all Hope miss'd. A pure dawn to the last 
 Our love was, and no change can cloud it now. 
 Here on thy grave in the eternal past, 
 Heart of my heart, these fading flowers I strow. 
 Here let them perish ! From their fate secure, 
 Thou, where they blossom'd, deep in my dream- 
 life 
 (Death's changeless charm all thine) dost still en- 
 dure 
 Undying. More to me than bride or wife, 
 
DEATH 
 
 Heaven's revelation thou remainest, seen 
 
 First in the wish'd-for future, now seen best 
 
 In the saved past, of love that might have been 
 
 Less beautiful if earth had once possess'd 
 
 Its beauty. Memory, that makes thee mine, 
 
 Is quieter than Hope, and happier too. 
 
 Safe are the treasures of her sober shrine, 
 
 And even her sweetest oracles are true. 
 
 Ah, dearest ! Thou and Death have given me all 
 
 The blessing of a past where Memory finds 
 
 Nothing she is not thankful to recall — 
 
 No pain, no bitterness, no tear that blinds, 
 
 No word that wounds ! Life might have marr'd 
 
 all this, 
 And spoilt the sweetness Death perpetuates. 
 Now, all that was, unmix'd with all that is, 
 Remains itself, and perfect. The harsh Fates, 
 That menace all things happy, from my heart 
 Thy truth can turn not, nor thy love estrange. 
 Far, far, beloved, beyond my reach thou art — 
 
MAR AH 
 
 But also far beyond the reach of change ! 
 Safe from the years and sorrows come and gone 
 Since thou didst go, who never back wilt come, 
 Where is thy home now, unreturning one ? 
 Has the soul anywhere a stable home ? 
 Shall I rejoin thee ever ? Shall we meet 
 Once more, beyond the dark and narrow gate 
 Now shut between us ? Or does life still fleet 
 Forever onward, still importunate, 
 And still unpacified, from sphere to sphere, 
 In unreposing progress to no goal ? 
 So that the bliss beyond us speeding here 
 Shall still beyond us speed throughout the whole 
 Vast cycle of infinity, and thou 
 A bliss beyond me still forever be ■? 
 I know not. But no Heaven exists, I know, 
 That I can gain without regaining thee. 
 And if this sense of self, wherein we place 
 Life's purpose, be no more than the brief play 
 Of combinations that in boundless space 
 
 36 
 
DEATH 
 
 And endless time shall be dissolved away 
 Into the universal consciousness, 
 Whence for a while it separates us here, 
 Thy soul to mine has granted none the less 
 Some earthly foretaste of a heavenlier sphere ; 
 With this much gain'd — that here a love so fair, 
 So finely wrought, so sensitive as ours, 
 Wither'd not, nor grew coarse, in that bad air 
 Which brings to blossom none but poison-flowers. 
 
 Safe-hidden, undiscover'd, undefiled 
 
 In the still past, on thy pure grave I write 
 
 No name, no date. And here may roses wild 
 
 With their ungather'd growths conceal it quite ! 
 
 So shall no curious gossips guess the way 
 
 My secret footsteps find, escaping oft 
 
 From life's loud throngs, when here at fall of day 
 
 They steal in silence thro' the twilight soft. 
 
 37 
 
II. 
 
 39 
 
I 
 
 I gave her love : I gave her faith and truth : 
 
 I gave her adoration, vassalage, 
 And tribute of life's best : the dream's of youth, 
 
 The deeds of manhood, and the stores of age. 
 
 2 
 
 She took my gifts, and turrid them into pain. 
 
 Each gift she made a bitter curse to be, 
 Then, marrd, she gave them back to me again. 
 
 And this is all she ever gave to me. 
 
EXPERIENTIA DOCET? 
 
 Vain is the experience of the past 
 To guide their steps who rove, 
 
 By ways each different from the last, 
 The 'wildering realms of Love ! 
 
 For no new movements of the heart 
 
 Are ever like the old, 
 Nor has their tale its counterpart 
 
 In those by Memory told. 
 
MARAH 
 
 The records of the pilgrimage 
 Of passion are impress'd 
 
 Each on the renovated page 
 Of a blanch'd palimpsest. 
 
 To mock the faith that lovers place 
 In life's acquired love-lore, 
 
 New lessons, latest learn'd, efface 
 Old teachings taught before. 
 
 5 
 
 And we ourselves within us bear, 
 Tho' to ourselves unknown, 
 
 New lives, that with new loves appear, 
 And new selves of their own. 
 
EXPERIENTIA DOCET? 
 
 Thus every love is, of its kind, 
 A first love and a last ; 
 
 And every time we love, we find 
 That love has had no past. 
 
 43 
 
OMENS AND ORACLES 
 
 All the phantoms of the future, all the spectres 
 of the past, 
 In the wakeful night came round me, sighing, 
 crying, c Fool, beware ! 
 Check the feeling o'er thee stealing ! Let thy first 
 love be thy last ! 
 Or, if love again thou must, at least this fatal 
 love forbear ! ' 
 
 Mar ah Amara ! 
 
OMENS AND ORACLES 
 2 
 
 Now the dark breaks. Now the lark wakes. Now 
 their voices fleet away. 
 And the breeze about the blossom, and the 
 ripple in the reed, 
 And the beams, and buds, and birds begin to whis- 
 per, sing, or say, 
 ' Love her, love her, for she loves thee ! ' And I 
 know not which to heed. 
 
 Car a A mar a ! 
 
IDOLATRY 
 
 To love is to create, down here below, 
 
 A god on earth ; and for that god do even 
 
 More than his earthly worshipper can do 
 For the great God in Heaven. 
 
 But, since naught perfect is on earth, and none 
 
 Entirely good, the god on earth created 
 Is but a half-divine, half-devilish one; 
 
 A god half loved, half hated. 
 
 40 
 
IDOLATRY 
 3 
 
 Half loved, half hated, but so all adored 
 That for its favour nothing seems a price 
 
 Too great : not even life lost and blood pour'd 
 In human sacrifice. 
 
 And all ungrudged, for this god's worshipt sake, 
 His heart's blood drop by drop the adorer gives, 
 
 His life's life hour by hour ; nor shrinks to break 
 The heart of other lives. 
 
ANTAGONISMS 
 
 Ah, who can reconcile the Brain and Heart ? 
 
 Reason and Passion ? Thought and Sentiment ? 
 Genius and Woman ? Far they tend apart, 
 
 And only meet in terrible dissent. 
 
 Genius, sufficing to itself, abounds 
 In its own being. Love can but fulfil 
 
 Its being in another. Woman founds 
 Her power upon the ruins of Man's will. 
 
 4 8 
 
ANTAGONISMS 
 
 3 
 The love she gives him costs a kingdom's price, 
 
 Tho' freely given the gift. It takes away 
 His grandeur from him. And that sacrifice 
 
 She neither understands, nor can repay. 
 
 40 
 
AMARI ALIQUID 
 
 i 
 
 Dearest, our love is perfect, as love goes ! 
 
 Your kisses fill my frame and fire my blood ; 
 And nothing fails the sweetness each bestows, 
 
 Except the joy of being understood. 
 
 If, for one single moment, once alone, 
 
 And in no more than one thing only, this 
 
 Moreover only the most trivial one, 
 
 You could but understand me — ah, the bliss ! 
 
ARS AMORIS 
 
 The world has tangled in its web Love's wings, 
 
 And to the captive god no freedom grants. 
 Mix'd with material marketable things 
 And social wants, 
 
 Throughout the struggling ranks of Modern Life 
 
 Love has become a means of livelihood ; 
 Matter for bargain keen, or envious strife, 
 Like clothes and food. 
 
MAR AH 
 
 And what the Modern Man and Woman try- 
 To find in love, or by its means acquire, 
 Is comfort, wealth, respectability, 
 A step set higher 
 
 On life's throng'd social ladder. Nay, even less 
 
 A luxury, a vanity, a mode, 
 An attitude, a pastime, a small cess 
 To Custom owed ! 
 
 Whate'er the gain by these from love expected, 
 
 Whether its acquisition be in pelf 
 Or pleasure, it is wholly unconnected 
 With love itself. 
 
ARS A MORIS 
 
 For 'tis not love they love, but life provided 
 
 With what they deem love capable of giving 
 And, in the act of loving, each is guided 
 By the art of living. 
 
 Therefore, O Love, because to all life's plans 
 
 And projects some promotion thou impartest, 
 Thou still hast many zealous artisans, 
 Tho' not one artist. 
 
MARAH'S DOWER 
 
 Two Muses Marah's dower supply, 
 And each a gift bestows : 
 
 For all her looks are Poetry, 
 And all her feelings Prose. 
 
 54 
 
RUBIES AND PEARLS 
 
 All I had to give, I gave her. First my kisses, 
 then my tears. 
 But the little one would have them not. ' What 
 use are they ? ' she said. 
 Sad, I went away, and dwelt among the tombs, 
 where days are years, 
 With the Witch that gathers herbs there, and 
 her children who are dead. 
 
 They and I became companions; and their dusty 
 shrouds were wet 
 With my flowing tears, and warm beneath my 
 kiss their white lips burn'd, 
 
 55 
 
MAR AH 
 
 Till the Witch, whose graveyard-gatherings rare 
 miracles beget, 
 Wrought my kisses into rubies, and my tears to 
 pearls she turn'd. 
 
 3 
 But she drain'd into each ruby's heart from mine 
 a drop of blood, 
 And a purity my spirit lost with every pearl 
 that fell. 
 Then she laugh'd, ' Good pearls thy tears are now, 
 thy kisses rubies good, 
 And the proper use of precious stones thy little 
 one knows well.' 
 
 4 
 So I took my pearls and rubies to the little one I 
 love, 
 She that loves me not. And, when her pretty 
 eyes beheld them, wild 
 56 
 
RUBIES AND PEARLS 
 
 Beat her little heart with eagerness its pride in 
 them to prove, 
 And she kiss'd and kiss'd me, weeping tears of 
 pleasure like a child. 
 
 5 
 
 Still she wears them, still she shows them to her 
 lovers with delight. 
 And her little heart would break, I think, if one 
 of them were lost ; 
 For the sweetest of its pleasures is the envy they 
 excite, 
 And 'tis spoilt by no suspicion of the price that 
 they have cost. 
 
 57 
 
DREAMS 
 
 A LAND of luminous azure, glowing green, 
 
 And purple, and roseate gold, fill'd everywhere 
 
 With fervid colour and light; and all things seen 
 Clear thro' a lucid calm of cloudless air : 
 
 The rippled sapphires of a summer sea, 
 Steep'd in the sunshine of a southern sky, 
 
 Washing warm bowery bays where tree to tree 
 Loose roses link'd with labyrinthine tie 
 
 58 
 
DREAMS 
 
 3 
 Among them glimmer'd many a statued flight 
 
 Of marble stairs, beneath the twinkling gloss 
 Of blossom-laden boughs : and streams shone 
 white, 
 Streaking green glens faint rainbows roof'd 
 across : 
 
 4 
 Seaward on sunny slopes a little town 
 
 Sparkled with terraced streets, where all day 
 long 
 A glad-faced folk went sauntering up and down, 
 Whose talk was tuned to some soft foreign 
 tongue : 
 
 5 
 Foreign, at least, their tongue to me and you ; 
 For you and I, dropp'd who knows how down 
 here, 
 Were strangers from afar ; and so we two 
 To one another had grown strangely near. 
 
 59 
 
MARAH 
 
 6 
 
 All this I dream'd. Then woke, and with dim 
 gaze 
 
 Saw, thro' the window-curtains half withdrawn, 
 Wan street-lamps film'd beneath a frozen haze, 
 
 And snow-flakes falling in the wintry dawn. 
 
 7 
 And all at once, with a recurrent pain, 
 
 I realised how far away you were, 
 How near at hand my troubles ! And then again 
 I slept, and dream'd. Ah, what a change was 
 there ! 
 
 8 
 
 Nor sea nor land this time. No nature. All 
 Was artificial. For I stood, methought, 
 
 In a vast house of many mansions : hall 
 
 Succeeding hall : huge chambers, richly wrought 
 
DREAMS 
 9 
 
 In clear communication each with each, 
 Thro' multitudes of doors set open wide, 
 
 And lit by windows so far out of reach 
 That they reveal'd not anything outside. 
 
 10 
 
 Around me, here and there, and to and fro, 
 A wistful crowd continually went. 
 
 I knew them not. Nor did they seem to know 
 Each other. All were silent : each intent 
 
 ii 
 
 On his own business, or his own design. 
 
 No care had I to guess what that might be ; 
 For 1 was equally intent on mine, 
 
 Heedless of others as they were of me. 
 
 61 
 
MAR AH 
 
 12 
 
 And conscious all the while, I knew not how, 
 That somewhere in this house, among that 
 crowd, 
 I was to find you ; tho' no sign to show 
 Where was vouchsafed me, and no guide 
 allow'd. 
 
 13 
 So, on, through those innumerable doors, 
 
 Door after door, in search of you I pass'd, 
 And over those interminable floors, 
 
 Floor after floor, with steps that hasten'd fast, 
 
 14 
 And fiercely beating heart. But nowhere you, 
 
 Nor any trace of you ! And time went by, 
 The light began to fail, my courage too, 
 
 And then I noticed all were gone but I. 
 
DREAMS 
 
 15 
 Gone ! By what means ? Impossible to guess ! 
 
 For go, I could not. Each room only led 
 Into another room. A wilderness 
 
 Of rooms and rooms on all sides round me 
 spread ! 
 
 16 
 
 To deep discouragement succeeded fear — 
 
 A fear lest I forever should remain 
 Wandering about in that mad maze of drear 
 
 And darkening halls! I knew my search was 
 vain, 
 
 17 
 And that I should not ever find you there. 
 
 My one thought was to get away — get back 
 To the outer world, and nature, and fresh air. 
 
 Vain thought ! The night, that crept upon my 
 
 track, 
 
 63 
 
MAR AH 
 
 18 
 
 Was bringing with it who could say what strange 
 New horror ? And still wandering, still astray, 
 
 I roam'd and roam'd that never-ending range 
 Of rooms and rooms, whence still there was no 
 way. 
 
 19 
 
 Door after door I tried. No door was shut. 
 
 But door to door succeeded, hall to hall. 
 None to my flight did any barrier put, 
 
 But egress was in turn denied by all. 
 
 20 
 
 I turn'd, despairing, to the windows. These 
 Might favour flight, I hoped, if once attain'd. 
 
 But no ! For they receded by degrees 
 As I advanced, and out of reach remain'd. 
 
 64 
 
DREAMS 
 21 
 
 At last I noticed, close at hand, what seem'd 
 A shut door in the wall. And ' Here, per- 
 chance, 
 
 From this bewildering labyrinth,' I deem'd, 
 1 May be some means for my deliverance ! ' 
 
 22 
 
 I push'd the latchet, hope with fear and doubt 
 Contending. The door open'd. From the 
 shelf 
 
 Of some dark cupboard it disclosed, sprang out 
 A corpse. I knew it. 'Twas my own dead Self. 
 
 23 
 And my dead Self pursued me. Fast I fled. 
 But fast it follow'd. Its sepulchral breath 
 Clung like a cloud about me. It was dead, 
 And yet unnaturally alive in death. 
 65 
 
A1ARAH 
 24 
 
 The horror and the terror of it grew 
 
 Until they reach'd the point of madness. Then 
 The whole wild vision from my sense withdrew, 
 
 And, spent and faint, I lay awake again ; 
 
 But still in fear lest on me sleep should glide, 
 And again fix me with its ghostly fetter; 
 
 A doubting hand I stretch'd to the bedside, 
 
 And there I found (thrice woe is me !) your 
 letter. 
 
 26 
 
 Your dreadful letter, with its heartless words ! 
 
 A trance my life since that sick moment seems, 
 Whence never any waking hour affords 
 
 Release from days far worse than night's worst 
 dreams. 
 
 66 
 
FIGURES OF SPEECH 
 
 Ah, still even strangers' lips renew 
 
 The magic of your name ! 
 Last night, when some one spoke of you, 
 
 I felt my blood turn flame. 
 
 Your fair friend said, ' Tho' so besought, 
 
 And so admired, how free 
 From vanity, how pure in thought, 
 
 And true in deed, is she ! 
 
 6 7 
 
MARAH 
 3 
 
 ' Her soul's even fairer than her face. 
 
 Do you not think so too ? ' 
 And with beatified grimace 
 
 I lied, and said, ' I do.' 
 
 68 
 
THE ONL Y DIFFERENCE 
 
 I deem'd you truest of the true, 
 
 And loved you. Now I see 
 That you were treacherous thro' and thro', 
 
 And love you still, woe's me ! 
 
 The only difference is this : 
 The gilt is off the chain, 
 
 And what was once a golden bliss 
 Is now an iron pain. 
 
 60 
 
ONE ROSE 
 
 My blessing on you, roses, all save one ! 
 
 Curst be the blood-red rose she used to wear 
 In those fierce summers that have slain my sun, 
 
 To lure love to her bosom and her hair ! 
 
 The past's spent torments does that rose renew. 
 
 Hot from my heart its hated petals take 
 The blood that gives them their ensanguined hue, 
 
 And all my life is paler for its sake. 
 
BY THE GATES OF HELL 
 
 i 
 
 Where the shadow of darkness darkest fell 
 In the Valley of Tears, by the Gates of Hell, 
 
 I was 'ware of an old man, wan as a ghost. 
 He was bitterly weeping : and there for years, 
 By the Gates of Hell, in the Valley of Tears, 
 
 He had wept and wept for a loved one lost. 
 
 2 
 
 ' Be consoled ! ' I said. ' For the Gates of Hell 
 Thou hast pass'd not yet, and the griefs that dwell 
 
 In the Valley of Tears, be they ne'er so sore, 
 Yet by little and little they pass away, 
 And by little and little there comes a day 
 
 When the day that was is a grief no more.' 
 
MA RAH 
 
 3 
 ' I have pass'd thro' worse than the Gates of Hell, 
 And I know,' he said, ' that for those 'tis well 
 
 Who are weeping the loved one lost by death. 
 For by little and little their grief goes by, 
 And the dead are forgot, and the living will die, 
 
 And a hope still lingers the grave beneath. 
 
 4 
 ' But as bitter and fierce as the pangs of Hell 
 (For there is not a hope in their long farewell) 
 Are the tears that are shed, on no grave that's 
 seen 
 For the loss of a loved one lost by life. 
 And each tortures the heart, like a burning knife, 
 With the trace of a day that in vain has been.' 
 
 72 
 
WHEN ALL IS OVER 
 
 When you and I are dead, when all is over, 
 Life's long confusions clear'd, love's trials past, 
 
 The truth, they hid and hurt, will you discover, 
 And know and understand me at the last ? 
 When all is over! 
 
 And will you then be sad for all I suffer'd ? 
 
 You, to whose trusted hand's mistrustful blow 
 This poor wrong'd heart's defenceless fondness 
 offer'd 
 So safe a mark ! Will you be sad to know 
 The pain it suffer'd ? 
 
MARAH 
 
 If so, perchance what might have been, and was 
 not, 
 You then will honour more than what has been ; 
 And life, when lost, will have what now it has 
 not, 
 Your wish, at least, that its set suns had seen 
 The day that was not. 
 
 That was not, but that would have been, my 
 dearest, 
 Had you had faith in it, or faith in me ! 
 For that day's dawn, tho' long delay'd, was near- 
 est 
 Just when you chose that it should never be 
 Our day, my dearest. 
 
 74 
 
WHEN ALL IS OVER 
 
 If, even when all is over, still you never 
 Will know or understand, then must I pray 
 
 That death be one long dreamless sleep forever, 
 If more than now you know, you never may, 
 Still never, never ! 
 
 But if you know at last, and sigh to know it 
 Too late, that sigh will all my pain requite. 
 
 Better too late than never ! Could death show it, 
 
 I think 'twould, even then, set all things right 
 
 To know you know it. 
 
 75 
 
III. 
 
 77 
 
I 
 If thou art still a griefless girl or boy, 
 
 In love with life, and ignorant of love's grave, 
 Read not herein ! For thee no gift have I, 
 
 And be thou thankful that no gift I have ! 
 
 2 
 But if time's wayworn traveller thou art, 
 
 Hail, pilgrim ! ' Tis for thee this book was 
 writ. 
 The same sad pilgrimage, the? far apart, 
 We two have made, arid know the pain of it. 
 
 78 
 
LIFE 
 
 What is life ? The incessant desiring 
 Of a joy that is never acquired ; 
 
 And, instead of that joy, the acquiring 
 Of enjoyments that are not desired. 
 
 79 
 
SEMPER EADEM 
 
 The years go by. They bring no change, but only 
 The curse of custom, adding length to grief, 
 
 And pressure to the crowd that makes more lonely 
 The lone heart's changeless longing for relief. 
 
 Relief from wretched memories of things lost, 
 Relief in words that find no utterance now, 
 
 Relief from dead love's still undying ghost, 
 Relief in tears that lon^ have ceased to flow ! 
 
 80 
 
SEMPER EADEM 
 3 
 
 O could I weep, weep, weep away this weight 
 Of tearless, time-worn, inarticulate pain, 
 
 Whose heavy burden no blest hopes abate ! 
 O for release, rest, death ! In vain, in vain ! 
 
 Si 
 
FIRELIGHT 
 
 i 
 
 A FEELING to-night comes o'er me 
 That once in this hearth's dim gleam 
 
 I was happy beyond all dreaming, 
 But it may have been only a dream. 
 
 A dream or a memory is it, 
 
 That here in the same soft glow 
 
 Two entranced ones nestled together 
 And that I was one of the two ? 
 
FIRELIGHT 
 
 3 
 I seem to remember a gladness 
 
 That haunted of old this spot. 
 But was it mine or another's ? 
 
 Ah, that I remember not ! 
 
 '--- 
 
GHOSTS 
 
 We died, she and I, the same day. That I know ; 
 
 Tho' we died, I remember not when ; 
 But together we died ; and I cannot guess how 
 
 We are here with the living again. 
 
 We ought to be both in our graves : and this much 
 
 I can tell by the shuddering thrill 
 That a dead corpse feels at the casual touch 
 
 Of a corpse more inanimate still. 
 
 8 4 
 
GHOSTS 
 
 But spells we obey, and are bound by their guile, 
 Dead and gone tho' we be, to contrive 
 
 For the sake of appearance to chatter and smile, 
 And pretend to be feeling alive. 
 
 4 
 I know, little friend, tho' defunct, you can do 
 
 With the smallest allowance of rest. 
 'Twas the joy of your life to be seen, and to go 
 
 About everywhere, daintily dress'd. 
 
 5 
 You never were glad to get early to bed ; 
 
 And this constantly gadding about, 
 As you liked it alive, may have charms for you 
 dead. 
 But for me — it is wearing me out ! 
 85 
 
MA RAH 
 
 Do, dear, for the sake of the days that are gone, 
 Put me back in my coffin and pall ! 
 
 Nothing black for my burial need you put on, 
 Nor be miss'd from the liveliest ball. 
 
 7 
 
 From asking the living to lend me a hand 
 To get back to my grave, I refrain ; 
 
 For I fear lest the living should misunderstand 
 What 'tis hard for the dead to explain. 
 
 8 
 
 But you are as little alive, dear, as I. 
 
 And I have not a sister or brother 
 To vouchsafe me this service. Nor can you deny 
 
 That the dead have a claim on each other. 
 
NUNC STANS 
 
 Ah, the dead they may bury their dead, 
 The unborn bring to birth their unborn, 
 
 But, ere life's flitting minute be fled, 
 Let us live, and laugh sorrow to scorn ! 
 
 Past and Future, the permanent states 
 Of the fugitive Present, fleet fast 
 
 With its flight, that in flying creates 
 The fixt forms of the Future and Past. 
 
 87 
 
MAR AH 
 3 
 
 Borne along in its boundless embrace, 
 The brief moments the centuries span ; 
 
 And thro' time, as his shadow thro' space, 
 Does the Present accompany man. 
 
 88 
 
PERVERSITY 
 
 Restless, unthankful, in a heaven all shining 
 With lights serene my fever'd spirit doth dwell ; 
 
 And wild thro' Paradise it wanders, pining 
 For the hot feasts of Hell. 
 
 8q 
 
HA UNTED 
 
 For years (How many years ? To me they seem'd 
 
 Hundreds of thousands. With eternity 
 Of torment every moment of them teem'd !) 
 
 The all-enduring slave of Pain was I. 
 At last, this servitude to suffering grew 
 
 Grievous beyond endurance. I arose, 
 And in revolt my tyrant, Pain, I slew. 
 
 A secret, dark, and hollow spot I chose 
 Among the ruin'd places of the past, 
 
 And buried murder'd Pain there. Then I went 
 Forth, an emancipated slave at last, 
 
 And mingled with the world, and was content, 
 9 o 
 
HA UNTED 
 
 And feasted, and made merry ; laughing, ' This 
 
 Is life, and life is beautiful again ! ' 
 But in mid-revel I began to miss 
 
 Something which I had buried with dead Pain. 
 I knew not what : but for the want of it 
 
 I could not take my pleasure as before 
 In pleasant things. A shadow seem'd to flit 
 
 Beside me, always sighing, ' Nevermore ! ' 
 So from the revellers I stole away 
 
 Homeward. And here upon my hearth I found 
 A Spectre sitting. It was husht, and grey, 
 
 And ghastly. Its dim hooded brows were bound 
 With poisonous nightshade. A cold hand it laid 
 
 Upon me. My soul sicken'd. Helplessly 
 I groan'd, ' What art thou ? ' and the Spectre said, 
 
 1 The ghost of Pain, whose name is now Ennui ! ' 
 
EPISODE 
 
 I LOVE thy body better than thy soul. 
 
 I love thy beauty better than thy heart. 
 To me the part is dearer than the whole 
 Of all thou art. 
 
 For our lips naturally meet : but not 
 
 Our natures, not our thoughts. Far, far from 
 thine 
 My spirit wanders lone. Thy heart hath got 
 No key to mine. 
 
 92 
 
EPISODE 
 
 And 'tis adultery I commit with thee : 
 
 For to another woman I am wed ; 
 Tho', save in dreams, her face I shall not see 
 Till I am dead. 
 
 We miss'd each other in the porch of Birth, 
 
 And there took different ways : mine earthward 
 set 
 And hers I know not whither. But on earth 
 We have never met. 
 
 93 
 
LIES 
 
 Ah, let me gaze still silent in those eyes, 
 
 Nor ask me what my soul is seeking there ! 
 
 Tho' all that there is sought and found be lies, 
 
 If you and I on their false witness swear 
 
 Our love is love forever, were it wise 
 
 To test a fraud that is for both so fair ? 
 
 Faith in it turns to treasures that I prize, 
 
 The faint scent breathing from your fawn-brown 
 
 hair 
 And foam-white throat ; the subtle mysteries 
 Of mellow shadow that have each its lair 
 
 94 
 
LIES 
 
 In your lip's dimple ; or the rose that dies 
 Along your cheek's smooth curve ; and the rich 
 
 air 
 Haunted with flutterings of entranced surprise 
 Round the warm edges of white vesture where 
 Those shy feet peep. Nor are the sorceries 
 Of this sweet fraud mine only. For you share 
 The fervid fascinations that arise 
 From wishes sure to wither if it were 
 Too soon mistrusted. Love's grand tragedies 
 Leave we, with all the pomps of their despair, 
 To souls heroic ! Why should we despise 
 (We, whose hearts unheroically care 
 More for the moments than the eternities) 
 Even the least of little joys, whate'er 
 Their source, that flush one minute as it flies 
 With radiant fervours of effulgence rare ? 
 And if fond fancies aid them to disguise 
 Their fleeting earthliness in forms that wear 
 The hues of heaven (like wavelets, distant skies 
 
MARAH 
 
 Paint as they pass), need fretful forethought tear 
 From their poor wings those borrow'd pagean- 
 tries ? 
 What if some thunder-cloud soon quench the 
 
 flare 
 Wherewith Desire's small bonfires humanise 
 One spot in the wide desert, whence they scare 
 The savage beast ? No star whose beam sup- 
 plies 
 Guidance or light, along the dark we dare 
 In blind pursuit of unknown destinies, 
 Will perish with it. Nor does Fate declare 
 Her will beforehand, tho' besought with sighs, 
 And groans, and tears, and supplicative prayer. 
 A miser's thrift is in each mad surmise 
 That starves the present for the thankless heir. 
 Who knows what plagues the future may devise 
 For those whose craft its blessings would en- 
 snare ? 
 Life's end may be to-night. The hour that hies 
 
 9 6 
 
LIES 
 
 Is, while it lasts, life's all. So, if I swear 
 I love you, ask not what the oath implies, 
 But swear you love me also. We should fare 
 No better for the doubts that oath defies. 
 How sad were life, if bitter truth went bare 
 And what were love itself without such lies ? 
 
 97 
 
LOVE'S LABOUR LOST 
 
 In the old Piazza at Florence a statue of David 
 stands. 
 'Tis the masterful work of Michael Angelo's 
 marvellous art, 
 Yet a failure nevertheless : for it came to the 
 master's hands, 
 Not a virgin block intact, but already rough- 
 hewn in part. 
 
 And what Mino da Fiesole did to it, Angelo could 
 not undo. 
 So the work was but half his own. It is finish'd, 
 yet incomplete. 
 
 9 8 
 
LOVE'S LABOUR LOST 
 
 As that statue to Michael Angelo hundreds of 
 years ago, 
 So are you at this moment to me : an achieve- 
 ment, and yet a defeat ! 
 
 3 
 'Tis that others have been before me, of whose 
 touch you retain the trace. 
 You are half my work, half theirs. Thro' your 
 spirit and flesh disperst 
 Is the mark of a love not mine, that my own love 
 cannot efface. 
 For you were not virgin marble when you came 
 to my hands at first. 
 
HORACE AND LYDIA 
 {Modern.) 
 
 He 
 
 You ask me, * Do I love you ? ' Yes. 
 
 ' What grace in you my worship wins ? ' 
 None. ' Why, then, do I love you ? ' Guess ! 
 
 Why does the sinner love his sins ? 
 The drunkard his habitual dram ? 
 
 The gambler counters, cards, and dice? 
 A slave to vicious wants I am, 
 
 And you are my inveterate vice. 
 
 She 
 Impertinent ! 
 
HORACE AND LYDIA 
 
 He 
 
 
 For truth you call, 
 
 Truth, and truth or 
 
 ily. My reply, 
 
 Tho' 
 
 it offend you 
 
 She 
 
 Not at all ! 
 
 He 
 
 Was, 
 
 every word of it 
 
 She 
 
 A lie! 
 
 He 
 
 No! 
 
MARAH 
 
 She 
 
 Yes ! For all of flaming fire 
 Your fancy is, your heart all ice. 
 
 He 
 
 Granted. That means that my desire 
 Is vicious ; you, its object, vice. 
 
 She 
 
 No. It means only, thankless friend, 
 
 That your desire has flights insane, 
 And I, beyond whose reach they tend, 
 
 Know that the goal they seek is vain. 
 Your dupe I am not. You deceive 
 
 Yourself, it may be, but not me, 
 When you aver, perhaps believe, 
 
 You love me. Ah, but you would be 
 
HORACE AND LYDIA 
 
 As little to my liking then 
 
 As all the others are, if you 
 (In nothing else like other men) 
 
 Did, or could, love me as they do ! 
 You do not love me. I suggest 
 
 Love fancies. Each for each is full 
 Of riddles that remain half guess'd, 
 
 And doubt, at least, is never dull. 
 You ought to feel, could you but share 
 
 My wisdom, thankful I am not 
 The woman that you wish I were. 
 
 To take delight in such a lot 
 As your caprice for love provides, 
 
 A woman should be either blind 
 And a born innocent besides, 
 
 Or else of a perverted mind — 
 Like me ! Who deign with cheerfulness 
 
 To be the subject, tho' I know 
 That of your singular caress 
 
 I never was the object. No ! 
 io 3 
 
MARAH 
 
 There lives no woman you could love 
 
 Fairly, for love's sake : tho' from each 
 You crave in turn what soars above, 
 
 Or fleets beyond, a woman's reach. 
 Ay, and a man's reach, too ! For this 
 
 Ferocious idol, this Afar, 
 This phantom fetish, from a kiss 
 
 Could never yet create a star ! 
 
 He 
 
 True. All its miracles require 
 
 The faith of two believers. One 
 Suffices not. And I aspire 
 
 In vain, for I aspire alone. 
 Our aims accord not. Mine, that was 
 
 High to uplift us both, has fail'd. 
 Yours was to drag me down. Alas, 
 
 And it is yours that has prevail'd ! 
 
HORACE AND LYD1A 
 
 She 
 
 To drag you down ! You found me here 
 
 Where you were glad to find me, I 
 To welcome you. My natural sphere 
 
 I keep. Its hospitality 
 You sought, and all ungrudged 'twas given ; 
 
 Nor did you spare the proffer'd feast. 
 If, just because earth is not Heaven, 
 
 I make the best of earth, at least 
 For the best gift earth has to give 
 
 Let us be thankful ! Me you blame, 
 And you I tease ; yet we contrive 
 
 To charm each other all the same. 
 Earth's child am I, for Heaven unfit. 
 
 But I deserve some earthly praise 
 For kindliness, good looks, and wit, 
 
 Altho' not wings I wear, but stays. 
 All my past lovers I have spoil'd 
 
 For other women. Here on earth 
 
MAR AH 
 
 You will not find my better. Foil'd 
 Beforehand, seek ! I know my worth. 
 
 After me, nothing! Search all round, 
 What is there left to find ? 
 
 He 
 
 What they, 
 The Poet and the Sage, have found : 
 The Abstract ! 
 
 She 
 
 Has the Abstract, pray. 
 Lips, limbs, and life ? You will but find 
 
 Another woman, and a worse, 
 With faults as little to your mind, 
 
 Tho' not the same as mine, of course. 
 
 106 
 
HORACE AND LYDIA 
 
 He 
 
 I came into your life too late, 
 
 And found you thus, completely made. 
 I needs must either love or hate 
 
 The thing you are without my aid. 
 And I would be a maker. 
 
 She 
 
 Friend, 
 
 Nature would be beforehand still 
 With all your work. Defeats attend 
 
 The usurpations of her will. 
 Perfection clothed in petticoats 
 
 Is youth's Chimaera. This sad truth 
 Your poets sing in mournful notes, 
 
 Your sages preach. The fault of youth 
 
MAR AH 
 
 Is always to exaggerate, 
 
 And therefore miss the mark. Between 
 Life's two extremes, in me kind Fate 
 
 Accords you now the golden mean. 
 If one you found with warmer blood 
 
 Than mine is, she would be less fair. 
 Another's milk-white maidenhood 
 
 Would lack intelligence. Beware! 
 To us complacent circumstance 
 
 Is well disposed. Our fates are free. 
 And I would be your last romance, 
 
 As you are my first poem. See ! 
 
 He 
 
 Ah, sceptic, cease ! I can nor fight 
 Nor fly the field. Your lips and eyes 
 
 Disarm my reasonings. You are right, 
 And they are wrong. Be yours the prize 
 
 I08 
 
HORACE AND LYDIA 
 
 That Pallas ever fails to win ! 
 
 Lay your hand on my heart once more ! 
 What is it beats so wild within, 
 
 If love it be not ? 
 
 She 
 
 Shut the door! 
 
 109 
 
FUGIENS IMAGO 
 
 I HAVE seen her, O how often I have seen her, 
 but to see 
 Her mysterious evanescence, at a glance, a 
 touch, a tone, 
 And how often, O how often, has my heart ex- 
 claim'd, ' Tis she ! ' 
 When, in turning to embrace her, I discover'd 
 she was gone ! 
 
 Gone as soon as greeted ! Lost as soon as found ! 
 And then again 
 All the search for her to recommence, discour- 
 aged, otherwhere ! 
 
FUGIENS IMAGO 
 
 All the doubt, ' Will not the next search, as the 
 last was, be in vain ? 
 Was it she herself, or only a mirage of painted 
 air?' 
 
 3 
 Nay ! I could not be mistaken, could not see her 
 and not know, 
 Could not take her for another ! I, whose life 
 has all been pass'd 
 In predicting her arrival, be its coming ne'er so 
 slow, 
 And rejoicing in her presence, be its going ne'er 
 so fast ! 
 
 4 
 
 In the moment that I saw her, she was there. 
 This much is sure. 
 All the rest may be illusion ; all the time that 
 went before, 
 
MAR AH 
 
 All the time that follow'd after ! For 'tis false- 
 hoods that endure, 
 It is truth that, coming, going, lasts a moment 
 and no more. 
 
 5 
 She is gone, and I have lost her ! Yet a little 
 while ago 
 She was there ; and for a moment in your eyes 
 I saw her smile, 
 In your voice I caught her accents, on your lips I 
 felt the glow 
 Of her kiss, and I am certain she was there, tho' 
 but a while. 
 
 Had you recognised her also, had you known her 
 as I knew, 
 It had then been well for both of us. But, thro' 
 some fault in each, 
 
FUGIENS IMAGO 
 
 Now the search for her, you cannot aid, must all 
 begin anew, 
 And the moment we retain'd not is already out 
 of reach. 
 
 7 
 Hush! No vain recriminations! Life has years 
 to count upon, 
 But for love are moments only. Love, that all 
 the whiles between, 
 Looking forward to their coming, or recalling 
 them when gone, 
 Bears two names: the one, ' I SHALL be! 'and 
 the other, ' I HAVE BEEN ! ' 
 
 "3 
 
STILL ! 
 
 I HAVE invok'd with songs, and sued with tears, 
 A love still unresponsive to my call. 
 
 To find it, I have roam'd the waste of years ; 
 To win it, spent my all. 
 
 Yet still do I believe in it, still cherish 
 An unrequited faith, and in the fume 
 
 Of fires unblest, that on its altars perish, 
 Life's substance still consume ; 
 
STILL I 
 
 3 
 Like some poor alchemist, whose days have pin'd 
 
 In bondage to bright dreams that but betray'd, 
 Still raking ruin'd crucibles to find 
 
 The gold he never made. 
 
SELENE 
 
 WHITE Moon, forth-pouring floods of pallid fire 
 From founts that leave thy sallow orb forever 
 Ravaged and sear'd, and worn with wan desire, 
 But fervid never ! 
 
 Bless the pale pleasures of my love and me, 
 
 Whose day of life, like thine, is the dark night ! 
 From all the world I have chosen one like thee 
 For my delight. 
 
SELENE 
 
 3 
 
 No burning pulse her livid beauty warms. 
 
 But light that maddens the moon-stricken 
 brain 
 Is in her looks, and in her cold white arms 
 Are dreams insane. 
 
 4 
 Like thine her chill enchantments ! And like 
 thine 
 My wistful vigils ! And of all we are, 
 Each to the other, the sidereal sign 
 Is thy weird star. 
 
 5 
 Hushful, as o'er the bosom of the deep 
 
 Thou bendest, all night long I bend above 
 The soul that in her beauty lies asleep, 
 Dreaming of love. 
 
MA RAH 
 
 6 
 
 Dreaming of love, not loving ! Laid in trance 
 
 That waits the awakening touch of some caress 
 Not yet divined for its deliverence, 
 And still to guess. 
 
 Guide with the ghostly lamp's soul-reaching ray, 
 
 Desire's meandrous labyrinths among, 
 My slow sweet search, enamour'd of delay, 
 And lingering long ! 
 
 8 
 
 My slow sweet search that dreads yet craves the 
 goal 
 It seeks by ways bewilderingly dense 
 With dim delights, whose languors lap the soul 
 In charm'd suspense ! 
 
 118 
 
SELENE 
 
 9 
 
 She whom I love has from the dawn of time 
 
 Been love's despair. All pleasure and all pain 
 Her breath begets. All virtue and all crime 
 Are her domain. 
 
 10 
 
 Her intricate charm is like a magic maze, 
 
 Whose central secret never can be found 
 By any of the interminable ways 
 That wind it round. 
 
 n 
 
 The perilous realms of Unreality 
 
 Her witchcraft rules. And my pale paramour 
 Fills all their phantom forms, from her faint sigh, 
 With strenuous power. 
 
MAR AH 
 
 12 
 
 Fierce are the Solar Daughters of the South, 
 
 Faint, and a Lunar Witch, my leman is. 
 The North's lone mystery lingers on her mouth, 
 And chills her kiss. 
 
 13 
 
 The sun is in their veins, as in the vine : 
 
 The moon in hers, as in a sorcerer's cruce, 
 Has mingled dews and dreams. Their blood is 
 wine : 
 
 Hers, morphian juice. 
 
 14 
 
 And 1 have drunk of it. And in her eyes 
 I have beheld, and on her lips pursued, 
 Passion's most mystical epiphanies ; 
 With faith renew'd 
 
SELENE 
 
 In the voluptuous chastities of vice — 
 Virginities of sin in joys restrain'd, 
 Fruits of the imperishable paradise 
 Of the Unattain'd ! 
 
TRAVELLING ACQUAINTANCES 
 
 On my road at the dawn of day 
 Joy accosted me, passing me by. 
 We were both of us going one way ; 
 But, alas, he went faster than I, 
 And in vain I besought him to stay. 
 
 ' Prithee speed not,' I panted, ' so fast, 
 Fellow-traveller ! Fain would I be 
 
TRA VELLING ACQ UA/NTA NCES 
 
 Thy companion, and share to the last 
 The long course of my journey with thee ! ' 
 Never pausing, however, he pass'd. 
 
 ' We can fare not together,' he cried, 
 
 ' Any farther. But do not despond ! 
 
 We may meet yet again.' And I sigh'd, 
 
 f Where again may I meet thee ? ' ' Beyond ! ' 
 
 Joy, pointing his finger, replied. 
 
 4 
 
 ' A remembrance,' he murmur'd, ' meanwhile 
 ('Tis the best that my passage bestows) 
 I bequeath thee, sad days to beguile.' 
 And he flung me a half-wither'd rose ; 
 And was gone with a nod and a smile. 
 123 
 
MARAH 
 
 5 
 
 On I went, till the noon had wax'd hot. 
 Then I came to a blossoming grove. 
 There, alone in a flowery spot, 
 I was suddenly greeted by Love. 
 But I trembled, and answer'd him not. 
 
 6 
 
 For his face was the face of a stranger, 
 
 And I seem'd to myself to be there 
 
 A forbidden and trespassing ranger. 
 
 And, beholding Love's weapons, ' Beware ! ' 
 
 Said my heart to me. ' Here there is danger.' 
 
 124 
 
TRA VELLING AC QUA I NT a NCES 
 
 But the whisper of Love was so sweet, 
 And the spell of his beauty so strong, 
 And with welcome so warm did he greet, 
 And so tenderly drew me along, 
 That I fell down faint at his feet. 
 
 8 
 
 Merry butterflies hither and thither 
 Were a-wooing. Sweet birds caroll'd clear. 
 All around, it was midsummer weather. 
 And I said, ' This is Paradise ! Here 
 Let us linger forever together ! ' 
 
 125 
 
MARAH 
 
 9 
 
 With a frown Love averted his face, 
 And his voice took a menacing tone, 
 As he struggled to break mine embrace, 
 Crying, 'Loose me, for I must be gone! 
 I have linger'd too long from the chase.' 
 
 10 
 
 ' If thou leavest me, what shall I do ? ' 
 I cried, clinging, imploring, and fond. 
 1 And ah, whither away wouldst thou go ?' 
 Love impatiently answer'd, ' Beyond ! ' 
 And the sunshine seem'd turned into snow. 
 
 126 
 
TRA VELLING A C QUA I NT A NCES 
 
 II 
 
 'If,' I wept, 'thy last word has been spoken, 
 Cruel fugitive, ere thou depart, 
 Leave me one little lingering token ! ' 
 Then he struck me a blow at the heart, 
 And I felt in it something was broken. 
 
 12 
 
 I arose, sick, and faint, and in pain, 
 But still, staggering, onward I went, 
 Till the sun was low down, and the plain 
 Sad and cold, and its colours all spent, 
 And the daylight beginning to wane. 
 
 127 
 
MARAH 
 
 13 
 
 Rough and hard was the way, tho' down hill ; 
 And my feet were both weary and sore ; 
 And the road I was journeying still 
 Had a narrower track than before ; 
 And the twilight hung heavy and chill. 
 
 H 
 
 Where around me the long shadows lay, 
 And the path became doubtful and dim, 
 I was met by a traveller grey ; 
 And his aspect was furtive and grim, 
 Like a beast's that is prowling for prey. 
 
 128 
 
TRA VELLING AC QUA I NT A NCES 
 
 15 
 
 He approach'd me, and seized, and embraced. 
 As he cried to me, • Welcome at last ! 
 It is late, but I am not in haste, 
 And we too have no need to go fast. 
 Thou art weary, and I am slow-paced.' 
 
 16 
 
 ' Of my hand,' I groan'd, writhing, ' let go P 
 For I neither could loosen nor bear 
 The cold pressure of his. But, ' Ah, no ! ' 
 The grey traveller said. ' I am Care. 
 Love and Joy have gone from thee, I know. 
 
 129 
 
MA RAH 
 
 *7 
 
 But my fingers hold faster,' said he, 
 
 ' Than the bite of an adamant bond.' 
 
 ' Is there nowhere, then, refuge from thee?' 
 
 I exclaim'd in despair. And ' Beyond,' 
 
 He said faintly, ' perchance there may be ! ' 
 
 130 
 
IV. 
 
I 
 
 / have searclid the universe, beneath, above, 
 And everywhere with this importunate lyre 
 
 Have wander d desperately seeking Love, 
 But ever yzv here have only found Desire. 
 
 2 
 
 / have probed the' spheres above, the spheres be- 
 neath. 
 
 Their dim abysms have echdd to my shout 
 Invoking Truth. But time, space, life, and death, 
 
 And joy, and sorrow, only answer d 'Doubt ! ' 
 
SEAWARD 
 
 The green grows ever greyer as we pass ; 
 
 The lean soil sandier ; the spacious air 
 More breezy ; raggeder the bristly grass ; 
 
 And the few crooked leafless trees more rare. 
 
 And now nor grass, nor trees ! But only stones 
 
 Tufted with patches of wild rosemary 
 And spurge. Behind them hidden, something 
 moans ; 
 And large white birds come with a questioning 
 cry. 
 
 133 
 
MARAH 
 3 
 
 What's there, beyond ? A thing unsearch'd and 
 strange ; 
 Not happier, but different. Something vast 
 And new. Some unimaginable change 
 
 From what has been. Perchance the end at 
 last? 
 
 '34 
 
NOCTURN 
 
 i 
 
 Roll, waves ! To rest refused I too aspire. 
 
 Weep, clouds! I too shed tears that fall in 
 vain. 
 Lightnings, illuminate ye my drear desire! 
 
 Thunder, be thou the echo of my pain ! 
 
 Black-shrouded midnight, shuddering with cold 
 sighs, 
 
 And fearful with faint creepings, gather all 
 Thy ghosts and spectres ! Bid them each devise 
 
 New horrors to adorn thy sable hall ! 
 
MA RAH 
 3 
 
 For the drear drama the drear stage prepare, 
 Deck it with deluge, garland it with storm, 
 
 Assemble all the Powers of Darkness there, 
 And what I suffer let them then perform ! 
 
 4 
 Not long will they their fleeting parts sustain 
 
 In the fixt misery I endure alone. 
 To-morrow's sun will scatter to-night's rain ; 
 
 When comes the dawn the darkness will be 
 
 5 
 To-morrow will the storm its force have spent ; 
 
 But mine will be to-morrow and to-morrow 
 The same unutterable discontent, 
 
 Stung by the same intolerable sorrow ! 
 i 3 6 
 
OCEANUS 
 
 LIKE a strong, beautiful, ill-used wild beast, 
 
 The Ocean, caged between its craggy shores, 
 Stretches its long limbs out, with panting breast, 
 And rolls, and roars. 
 
 2 
 
 Its large lair is for its large life too small. 
 
 For here are the world's waters all in one, 
 And all the sounds of all the nations, all 
 In a single tone ! 
 137 
 
MARAH 
 
 3 
 Hark ! With the monstrous murmurs of the 
 Pnyx 
 Here do a hundred thousand litanies 
 From Christendom's cathedral organs mix ; 
 And here the sighs 
 
 4 
 Breathed by a million breaking hearts are heard ; 
 Here the long roar of the fierce Roman crowd 
 Comes rolling Capitolian echoes, stirr'd 
 To response loud 
 
 5 
 When Caesar graced the gladiatorial show, 
 And from the reeking circus rose to him 
 The death-shriek of the doom'd who died below, 
 Torn limb from limb. 
 138 
 
OCEANUS 
 
 Harken again ! A whisper from afar, 
 
 Faint, but how fearful ! Like the sighing breath 
 Of some plague-smitten city, a red star 
 Scorches to death. 
 
 7 
 But from the silence the sound preys upon 
 
 It gathers strength, and breaks into low thunder 
 As of a huge host heavily marching on, 
 Laden with plunder. 
 
 Italy, when the midnight moons went down 
 
 Long ages since upon her dark blue plains, 
 Heard it, and shudder'd. Heard the tongues un- 
 known, 
 
 The rumbling wains, 
 139 
 
MAR AH 
 
 9 
 The riot of barbarian vanquishers, 
 
 The mountains moving to the Ostian shore 
 Over those beautiful bruised limbs of hers, 
 With an ominous roar. 
 
 Ay ! All earth's sounds, on all earth's waters 
 borne, 
 Meet here in dreadful interchange. And over 
 Ocean's drear bosom, beating wings forlorn, 
 Lost echoes hover. 
 
 II 
 
 The echoes of all sorrows and all crimes 
 Suffer'd or perpetrated long ago 
 
 In miserable old remorseless times 
 Of sin and woe. 
 
OCEAN US 
 
 12 
 
 Therefore does terror haunt thy solitude, 
 
 Dread Sea ! And all its melancholy waves 
 And mountainous billows, by wild ghosts pursued, 
 
 Are wandering graves. 
 
 13 
 Yet 'mid thy moanings multitudinous 
 
 A silenced song's pathetic echo floats, 
 Slight but still sweet. What is it moves me thus 
 In those low notes ? 
 
 14 
 It is that in a holier happier time 
 • The harp of Orpheus lull'd thy lyric shores, 
 And thou hast listen'd to the rhythmic chime 
 Of Argo's oars : 
 
MA RAH 
 
 It is that Aphrodite's natal morn 
 
 Beheld her borne upon thine azure breast, 
 And once thy furrow'd desert, now forlorn, 
 Was Alcyon's nest. 
 
 142 
 
A LOST CHANCE 
 
 The glimpses of the moon with fitful lights, 
 That flash'd and fled between swift cloud-drifts 
 sweeping, 
 
 Strew'd all the dark sea. And the Water Sprites 
 Merrily in those moony gleams were leaping. 
 
 I saw them, and amongst them saw again 
 The little Mermaid that, long years ago, 
 
 Taught me sea-magic, many a mystic strain 
 Of Siren song, and all the spells I know. 
 
MA RAH 
 3 
 
 All that she taught me, in the unmagical 
 Monotonously wakeful world wherein, 
 
 Toiling and moiling, I have wasted all 
 My after-years in sadness that was sin, 
 
 4 
 I had forgotten, and her too. But she 
 
 Was looking just as when I saw her last, 
 Not here, but by that other happier sea 
 
 Where we were playmates in the painless past. 
 
 5 
 And when I saw and recognised her there, 
 
 The old song, all at once, and the old spell 
 Came back to me. Along the moonlit air 
 
 She si^li'd and beckon'd. I remember'd well 
 
A LOST CHANCE 
 6 
 
 The word I was to utter when we met, 
 And half gave voice to it. But suddenly 
 
 A cloud closed up the moon, and black as jet 
 Became the solid darkness of the sky. 
 
 7 
 The vision vanish'd. I no longer felt 
 
 Sure of the word. The night was full of doubt 
 And fear. And I was conscious that there dwelt 
 
 In its black bosom secrets not made out 
 
 By any magic I had learn'd of old. 
 
 So, passive, in suspense I stood, nor stirr'd, 
 While o'er my soul the darkness closed its hold 
 
 As a hand closes on a frighten'd bird. 
 
SA TURN A LI A 
 
 Hid in the heaviest dark, a mystery 
 
 Within a mystery, the sea augments 
 Night's witchcraft with its shadowy sound ; the 
 sigh 
 Of an uneasy silence, that half vents 
 In sobs and gasps the dreadful secrecy 
 Of its contents ! 
 
 And yet another mystery haunts the night : 
 
 The uncouth, phantasmal, bodiless return 
 
 Of Chaos. That which was before the light 
 
 i 4 6 
 
SATURNALIA 
 
 Comes back when light departs, and the deep 
 urn 
 Of darkness voids confusions infinite 
 That seethe and yearn. 
 
 3 
 Ail spectres now resume their dim domain. 
 
 A shrouded dream is passing o'er the deep. 
 The scatter'd clusters of effaced stars wane 
 
 Behind a livid film. The shuddering heap 
 Of waters hoarser breathes. Athwart my brain 
 Vast shadows sweep. 
 
 4 
 My waking self sinks from me. In its place 
 There comes a sense of preternatural force 
 Freed from thought's timid tyranny. The chase 
 
 Begins. The phantom bugles blow. To horse ! 
 I mount the Nightmare. Fleet thro' time and 
 space 
 
 Speeds our wild course ! 
 147 
 
MARAH 
 
 5 
 
 Where are we hurrying, they and I ? And they, 
 Who are they ? We shall find each other out 
 
 As we go on, perhaps, and by the way 
 Discover also what we are about. 
 
 Heavens ! Is it you ? How came you here astray 
 In such a rout ? 
 
 They told me you were settled down in life, 
 Well married, living far away from here 
 
 In your own country, a good happy wife 
 And mother, virtue's model, a sincere 
 
 Church-goer, all whose decent days were rife 
 With heavenly cheer. 
 
 i 4 8 
 
SATURNALIA 
 
 Yet here you are to-night, without a blush, 
 Stark naked, riding furious at my side 
 
 The Devil's own charger ! Foremost in the push 
 Of this fierce crowd, and no attempt to hide 
 
 Your unashamed enjoyment of the rush 
 Of our wild ride! 
 
 8 
 
 Who is it you were laughing with just now 
 
 Before you join'd me ? The tall woman there, 
 With the gold fillet glittering on her brow, 
 
 And those large long-lash'd eyes, and bosoms 
 bare ? 
 What is it hanging from her saddle bow 
 By a tress of hair ? 
 
 149 
 
MAR AH 
 
 9 
 Stay ! Now she has it in her hands. It is 
 
 A dead man's head. And how her burning 
 eyes 
 Gloat on its horror ! How her red lips kiss 
 
 Those white ones ! Yes, 'tis she. I recognize 
 Herodias. But you never told me this. 
 Who could surmise 
 
 10 
 
 That you were old associates ? And you, 
 
 Whom have you loved to death, that you 
 should be 
 Here in such company ? Yon couple, too ? 
 She with the man asleep upon her knee ? 
 Asleep, or dead ? A nail is driven thro' 
 His forehead. See ! 
 
SATURNALIA 
 
 II 
 
 With what still rapture her white fingers rove 
 Among his matted curls, as low she bends 
 
 Her glowing gaze his upturn'd face above, 
 Husht as a watchful mother when she tends 
 
 Her sick child, lull'd to sleep with songs of love ! 
 So you are friends ? 
 
 12 
 
 I noticed that the woman, as we pass'd, 
 
 Nodded to you encouragingly. Drums 
 And cymbals ! Hark ! Behind us prancing fast, 
 
 Here, with the head of Holofernes, comes 
 Dame Judith, bravely dress'd ! And now, the 
 vast 
 
 Black midnight hums 
 
 151 
 
MAR AH 
 
 13 
 With a mysterious far-off music. Songs 
 
 Unholy, soft lascivious Lydian lyres, 
 Shrill Phrygian pipes, and throbbing Scythian 
 gongs, 
 In wizard concert where, round monstrous fires, 
 The redden'd gloom reveals dim dancing throngs, 
 And loose-robed choirs. 
 
 14 
 
 O hasten ! Hasten ! If we get not there 
 
 Before the dawn breaks, we shall be undone ! 
 Our steeds flag, and we still have far to fare. 
 Flog the jade fast ! The revel has begun. 
 Faster! Our names are call'd. Death and de- 
 spair ! 
 
 Too late .... the Sun ! 
 
PERTURBATION 
 
 GRAYER and dimmer grow the dim grey bounds 
 Of the leaden twilight, Salter the sea's breath, 
 And harsher, angrier, the low moan that sounds 
 Yon crags beneath. 
 
 The unquiet sea-birds seem unquieter, 
 
 And more importunate their plaintive quest. 
 About the sullen beach begins to stir 
 
 A vague unrest. 
 
 153 
 
MAR AH 
 
 Sightless has set the ineffectual sun. 
 
 There is no moon, no star, no visible cloud. 
 But land, and sky, and sea are swathed in one 
 Sepulchral shroud. 
 
 And now that shroud is troubled, tho' unrent. 
 
 There comes a menacing movement from afar, 
 And sounds as of a distant armament 
 Arming for war. 
 
 5 
 
 It is as tho' the elements — earth, air, 
 
 And water — each in its own camp aloof, 
 Were furtively beginning to prepare 
 And put to proof 
 
PERTURB A TION 
 
 Each its own weapons, or to organise 
 
 Each its own forces, for some strife impending. 
 Swift silent signals for the winds to rise 
 The air is sending. 
 
 7 
 The sea is gathering from the outer deep 
 
 Its heavier waves. Like some beleaguer'd giant, 
 The land is setting fast on cliff and steep 
 • A front defiant. 
 
 8 
 
 And coldly, shudderingly, creepily, 
 
 With these awakenings of the torpid pain 
 Pent in the pallid land, the pallid sky, 
 The pallid main, 
 155 
 
MARAH 
 
 9 
 My heart begins to move once more, and be 
 
 Again the battle-field of ghastly hosts 
 At war with one another, and with me. 
 Legions of ghosts ! 
 
 10 
 
 Yet will the abortive stir beginning now 
 
 Change or determine nothing. When 'tis o'er, 
 Heaven, earth, and sea, and I, will all, I know, 
 Be as before. 
 
 II 
 
 Rest, wretched slaves of Nature, whose mad zest 
 Of movement makes the curse that you inherit 
 Harder to bear ! Rest, winds and waves ! Rest, 
 rest, 
 
 Perturbed Spirit ! 
 156 
 
STORM 
 
 What is there here of aught experience knows, 
 Or language names ? This movement without 
 form 
 Of hideous power in unproductive throes ? 
 Storm ! Is it storm ? 
 
 But like no storm I have ever heard of, seen 
 Portray'd in pictures, read about in books, 
 Or dream'd in sleep, the interminable scene 
 Of sameness looks. 
 
MAR AH 
 . 3 
 
 There is no storm-rack visible. There are 
 No thunders audible. There is no play 
 Of forkt ethereal fires, no lurid glare, 
 Nothing but grey ! 
 
 Grey everywhere, grey always ! Day and night 
 For what seems ages long have ceased to be ; 
 And there is neither darkness nor yet light 
 On land or sea. 
 
 5 
 
 Nothing but grey ! One part of it is air, 
 
 Another water, and another earth. 
 But of all shape and colour these three share 
 A common dearth. 
 
 158 
 
STORM 
 
 Some horrible impulse moves the whole grey mass, 
 
 Wrapp'd in such rain as no resemblance bears 
 To any other rain that ever was. 
 For this appears 
 
 7 
 A firmamental flood, that forward speeds ; 
 
 Forward, not downward ; and in sheets, not 
 drops ; 
 Whose sweeping surge in a plain course proceeds, 
 And never stops. 
 
 There are no clouds, but all is cloudiness. 
 
 There are no winds, but all the wide grey sky, 
 Borne on the wide grey rain in mad distress, 
 Is rushing by. 
 159 
 
MA RAH 
 
 There are no waves, but all the wide grey Ocean 
 
 Jerks up and down with the recurrent thump 
 Of a monotonous mechanical motion, 
 In a livid lump. 
 
 10 
 
 From that mechanical motion comes a groan 
 As of some mighty engine-beam or screw, 
 Renew'd each moment with no change of tone. 
 Mechanical too ! 
 
 Mechanical, and yet with life at least 
 
 Enough in it to make its meaningless cry 
 More maddening than all noise of man, or beast, 
 Or enginry. 
 
 1 60 
 
STORM 
 
 12 
 
 Nothing, no single sight or sound, is here 
 
 Either sublime or beautiful. But all 
 Has in its dull enormity a drear 
 Power to appal. 
 
 13 
 
 Such sameness with such terrible unrest, 
 
 Such vast yet uneventful agitation, 
 For days and nights have heaven and earth pos- 
 sess'd 
 
 Without cessation ! 
 
 14 
 For days and nights, so far as thought can tell, 
 Had day or night survived ! But time, like 
 space, 
 Grown featureless and undefinable, 
 No periods trace. 
 
MARAH 
 
 15 
 When first I felt the storm's approach, my heart 
 
 Leapt up and hail'd it, glad of any change 
 From the cruel calm, and eager to take part 
 In something strange. 
 
 The contemplation of repose and joy 
 
 In Nature soothes not when the soul is sore; 
 And to an aching heart a smiling sky 
 Is a pain the more. 
 
 17 
 And so I hail'd a hoped enfranchisement 
 
 Of grandeur, when this change began. Vain 
 thought ! 
 Great only in duration and extent, 
 And grand in naught, 
 162 
 
STORM 
 
 18 
 
 'Tis but a grisly chaos far and wide 
 
 Monopolised by powers unbeautiful, 
 Whose dulness, terribly intensified, 
 Makes terror dull. 
 
 19 
 
 Dull as the incessant multitudinous strife 
 Of the social world, that only magnifies 
 Each meanness of the individual life 
 To a monstrous size ! 
 
 20 
 
 The python is but an enormous worm : 
 
 The reptile still a reptile, large or small 
 The calm was dreary, drearier is the storm 
 And that is all ! 
 163 
 
DIMINUENDO 
 
 Tired of the sun, and all it shines on ; tired 
 
 Of life's bright baubles toss'd from hand to hand ; 
 Tired of false joys that are but pains desired ; 
 I seek a land 
 
 Where sunlight looks like moonlight, and the days 
 Like evenings, and things present like things 
 past, 
 And near things like things distant, thro' the haze 
 Round all things cast. 
 164 
 
DIMINUENDO 
 3 
 
 There, in a life no more than half alive, 
 
 Let all my waking hours be half asleep, 
 And sleep's self dreamless of whate'er men strive 
 To gain or keep ! 
 
 165 
 
MOON LAND 
 
 Dim, lonesome, melancholy Moonland, hail ! 
 My tired heart's home is in thy lap at last, 
 And I have learn'd to love thy features pale 
 As passions past. 
 
 To me thy colourless cold sea and shore 
 
 Have grown congenial, and thy sullen air, 
 And ghostly winds that sighingly explore 
 Boughs all but bare. 
 
 1 66 
 
MOONLAND 
 
 3 
 Flowers in thy hueless herbage flourish not. 
 
 But here dwell, hid in hollows of grey sand, 
 Dwarf pansies ; and marsh-mallow blossoms spot 
 The inner land ; 
 
 4 
 Where, at the setting of thine unseen sun, 
 
 Small fenny pools gleam out of the dark plain, 
 Staring at night, and after day is done 
 Its glare retain. 
 
 5 
 Land of long silences, low whisperings, 
 
 And sorrowful lights ! Familiar things, that 
 seem 
 Themselves elsewhere, look here like other things, 
 As in a dream. 
 i6 7 
 
MAR AH 
 
 What are they, crouching yonder, crook'd so low ? 
 Mere clumps of rock their misty forms may be, 
 But wither'd hags, whose wicked trades I know, 
 They seem to me. 
 
 7 
 
 That sallow sand-drift, where the shingles halt, 
 
 A wasted remnant of myself appears. 
 This stagnant tarn has in its ooze the salt 
 Of human tears. 
 
 8 
 
 And all the land is loaded with a weight 
 
 Of resignation to some torpid woe. 
 The heavens are smileless, the fields desolate, 
 The waters slow. 
 
 1 68 
 
MOONLAND 
 9 
 
 Time makes not any effort to divert 
 
 Aught here from its monotonous attitude 
 Of dull distress. Each feature is inert, 
 Each sound subdued. 
 
 10 
 
 What now it looks, the landscape seems to say 
 That from the world's beginning it has been, 
 And that its league-long lamentable grey 
 Was never green. 
 
 n 
 
 Yet this, too, is illusion, like the rest ! 
 
 The soil's fixt features Nature's fitful will 
 Has changed and changed : and the immutablest 
 Is changing still, 
 169 
 
MARAH 
 
 12 
 
 Thro* transmutations every moment wrought 
 By heat and cold, or damp and drowth ; and 
 those 
 That in commixture with my own sick thought 
 It undergoes. 
 
 13 
 For 'tis not only by the tide-wave's toil 
 
 That yonder coast has been so scoop'd and 
 hack'd, 
 Not only rains and rays that this lean soil 
 Have scarr'd and crack'd. 
 
 H 
 My life's spent passions, sorrows, tears,, and sighs 
 In the land's hurt have had their dismal part ; 
 And the chief cause of its dejection lies 
 In my own heart. 
 
MOONLAND 
 
 15 
 I know not how it was, nor why it is, 
 
 But well I know that, whatsoe'er it be, 
 The region round me has become like this 
 Because of me. 
 
 16 
 
 Thou know'st it, too, sad Moonland ! That is 
 why 
 Thou dost remind me of it everywhere. 
 Thy cold sun has the gaze of a grey eye, 
 Thy sullen air 
 
 The breath of a lost presence, miss'd how much ! 
 
 Thy faint winds whisper words I understand 
 Too well ! Thy stillness stirs me with the touch 
 Of a dead hand. 
 
SELENITES 
 
 Something sets trembling all the stars. A sigh 
 Stirs the dark land. The moon is rising pale. 
 Slowly a strange procession passes by 
 Alone the vale. 
 
 All women, and all beautiful, all white, 
 
 All woebegone ! For many a thousand years 
 The day has ne'er beheld them, and the night 
 Their presence fears. 
 
SELENITES 
 
 3 
 A Seraph leads them. But of fallen state. 
 
 His wings are clipp'd, yet still their size exceeds 
 The limbs they lift not, and their heavy weight 
 His pace impedes. 
 
 4 
 
 The moon alone knows what these women are. 
 
 The sun was never in their secrets. They 
 Know not each other. But one woe they share, 
 One fate obey. 
 
 5 
 
 Whence come they ? Whither are their footsteps 
 bound ? 
 The Past forgets. The Future cannot tell. 
 They have lost their place on earth, and none have 
 found 
 
 In Heaven or Hell. 
 
 173 
 
MAR AH 
 
 For Heaven not good enough, for Hell too good, 
 
 For life too loving, and for death too dear, 
 Pale ghosts of passion-wasted womanhood, 
 They wander here, 
 
 7 
 Visible only to the tear-wash'd eyes 
 
 Whose vision mirrors supernatural sights. 
 But I, the initiated, recognise 
 The Selenites ! 
 
SOMNIUM BELLUINUM 
 
 I HAVE dream'd a bad dream, and it harrows me 
 still 
 
 With a horror of worse impending. 
 I was plodding, persistently plodding up hill, 
 
 And the hill was a hill never ending : 
 
 On, I toilfully went in tenacious pursuit 
 Of a something before me going : 
 
 But if human it was, or divine, or brute, 
 I had never a means of knowing : 
 
MAR AH 
 
 For I neither could touch it, nor hear it, nor see 
 
 Yet I steadily strove to attain it, 
 Since I knew it was there, by a feeling in me 
 
 That sufficed, tho' I cannot explain it. 
 
 There was tree upon tree by the way that I went 
 And each tree was a female Briareus, 
 
 With its feminine arms about me bent 
 In embraces vicious and various. 
 
 5 
 
 As a path of his own does the pioneer cut, 
 Thro' the prairie his wild way clearing, 
 
 So did I cut mine thro' those arms, and shut, 
 As I struck at them, both eyes — fearing ! 
 
 176 
 
S OMNI UM BELL UINUM 
 
 But a shriek I heard as at each fresh stroke 
 Thro' a shatter'd embrace I hasten'd, 
 
 And was wet with the drip of the blood that 
 broke 
 From the clasp that a wound unfasten'd. 
 
 7 
 
 And before I again look'd up I knew 
 
 That the thing I pursued had escaped me. 
 
 It was gone. And a different scene, quite new, 
 The bad dream I was dreaming shaped me. 
 
 8 
 
 For the hill to a plain had dissolved away, 
 And the plain had no mark, no limit, 
 
 But as far as my vision could reach it lay 
 (Not a shrub or a shadow to dim it !) 
 
MA RAH 
 
 9 
 In the sultry embrace of a Syrian noon : 
 
 And, along it confusedly streaming, 
 A profusion of emigrant prodigies soon 
 
 Rearranged the bad dream I was dreaming. 
 
 10 
 
 'Twas a monstrous procession. In front of it came 
 The sleek Basilisks, hissing and sighing : 
 
 In the forehead of each did a diamond flame, 
 And the Wyverns were after them flying. 
 
 ii 
 
 But below were the Dragons with three-prong'd 
 feet, 
 And each Dragon was forty-footed, 
 And they furrow'd the plain with the flap and 
 beat 
 Of their tails, and its sods uprooted. 
 i 7 8 
 
S OMNIUM BELLUINUM 
 
 12 
 
 In a merrily gambolling company pass'd 
 
 The lithe Leopards, and Ounces, and Lynxes : 
 
 Then the Jaguars, Panthers, and Pumas : and last 
 Came the beautiful leonine Sphinxes. 
 
 13 
 
 In their somnolent motion they seem'd to repose : 
 Was it walking, or flying, or floating? 
 
 Not a sound from their paws as they pass'd me 
 arose 
 The approach of their presence denoting ; 
 
 H 
 Not a fold of their filleted tiars was stirr'd ; 
 
 Not a pulse in their peak'd breasts flutter'd ; 
 But as murmuring seas by a slumberer heard 
 
 Were the mystic enigmas they mutter'd. 
 
MAR AH 
 
 15 
 And their eyes were incessantly changing hue ; 
 
 And each hue of them fitfully thrill'd me 
 With a different pang. When those eyes were 
 blue, 
 Twas a passionate longing that fill'd me ; 
 
 16 
 
 When they alter'd to violet, from them came 
 
 Indescribable desolation ; 
 But when red, 'twas a frenzy of burning flame ; 
 
 And when black, it was life's cessation. 
 
 17 
 
 The blithe Centaurs cantering came with a bound, 
 
 And a rattle of arrowy quivers : 
 Then a troop of green Gryphons, golden-crown'd, 
 
 From the Arimaspian rivers. 
 
 180 
 
S OMNIUM BELLUINUM 
 
 There were two-legged Dogs with the airs of gods ; 
 
 And, escorting Cat-countenanced Creatures, 
 Supernatural Apes with divining rods 
 
 And fatidical sinister features : 
 
 19 
 And a ponderous phalanx, serried and square, 
 
 Of the man-faced Bulls of Chaldea, 
 Whose bewildering bulks dead embodiments are 
 
 Of the strength of a dread Idea. 
 
 20 
 
 From the back of each Bull rose four vast wings 
 
 In a feather'd pavilion arching; 
 And they all had the faces of bearded kings ; 
 
 And their steps were as mountains marching. 
 
 181 
 
MA RAH 
 
 21 
 
 But above the grim multitudes trooping in herds 
 Thro' the Syrian sultriness glitter'd 
 
 A tumultuous pageant of strange colour'd birds, 
 And they hooted, and whistled, and twitter'd. 
 
 22 
 
 Clad in crimson, and orange, and azure, and green, 
 There were Peacocks, and Parrots, and Loories, 
 
 And Flamingoes, and Hoopoes, and Fowls ob- 
 scene 
 With the eyeballs and talons of Furies. 
 
 23 
 And the Hawk and the Ibis were carrying, both, 
 
 Babylonian rolls of papyrus ; 
 And the scripture thereon was the sentence of 
 Thoth 
 On the souls of Belshazzar and Cyrus. 
 182 
 
S OMNIUM BELLUINUM 
 
 24 
 
 In the rear of the Birds with a wavering flight 
 
 Came a flock of Chimaeras meagre, 
 And a squadron of blue-wing'd Serpents bright, 
 
 With their forkt tongues flickering eager. 
 
 25 
 But the Phoenix it was that commanded the 
 whole, 
 As its high priest, herald, and warder. 
 In his beak he was bearing a fiery coal, 
 And it burn'd with unquenchable ardour : 
 
 26 
 
 As a fiery coal had he made it to be, 
 
 But I knew 'twas my own heart burning : 
 
 For I felt the hot flame of it withering me 
 With the heat of an agonised yearning. 
 
 183 
 
MAR AH 
 
 2/ 
 
 And I cried to them, ' What are you going to do 
 With my heart, all you prodigies bestial ; 
 
 For what sacrifice fierce have you kindled it so 
 With infernal fire ? Or celestial ? ' 
 
 28 
 
 In exorbitant wrath, when I cried to them this, 
 They responded aloud and together, 
 
 With an uproar as tho' from the riven Abyss 
 'Twere Leviathan rending his tether. 
 
 29 
 
 In fuliginous films the disquieted sand 
 Flew about, and above, and beclouded 
 
 The insatiable sun ; and the shuddering land 
 In a blood-red pall was enshrouded. 
 
 184 
 
S OMNIUM BELLUINUM 
 
 SO 
 
 For the Bulls of Chaldea resentfully stamp'd 
 In a bellowing band : and up bounded 
 
 The roused Panthers and -Pumas: the Jaguars 
 ramp'd : 
 And the bows of the Centaurs resounded, 
 
 3i 
 As their darts flew about in the blood-colour'd 
 gloom : 
 Into rings where the Dragons contorted : 
 In the eyes of the leonine Sphinxes was doom : 
 The Chimaeras all whinnied and snorted : 
 
 32 
 
 And the green Gryphons yelp'd : and, like mur- 
 derous priests, 
 In pursuit of me fast, as I fled them, 
 
 185 
 
MAR AH 
 
 Came the two-legged Dogs and Cat-countenanced 
 Beasts, 
 With the Ape-headed Horrors that led them : 
 
 33 
 And the Birds and the Basilisks madden'd the air 
 
 With a horrible screeching and hissing : 
 Till at last I awoke with a clutch of despair 
 
 At my heart. But too late ! It was missing. 
 
EPILOGUE 
 
 My songs flit away on the wing: 
 
 They are fledged with a smile or a sigh 
 
 And away with the songs that I sing 
 Flit my joys, and my sorrows, and I. 
 
 For time, as it is, cannot stay : 
 Nor again, as it was, can it be : 
 
 Disappearing and passing away 
 
 Are the world, and the ages, and we. 
 187 
 
MAR AH 
 
 Gone, even before we can go, 
 
 Is our past, with its passions forgot, 
 
 The dry tears of its wept-away woe, 
 And its laughters that gladden us not. 
 
 4 
 
 The builder of heaven and of earth 
 Is our own fickle fugitive breath : 
 
 As it comes in the moment of birth, 
 So it goes in the moment of death. 
 
 5 
 
 As the years were before we began, 
 
 Shall the years be when we are no more : 
 
 And between them the years of a man 
 
 Are as waves the wind drives to the shore. 
 
EPILOGUE 
 
 Back into the Infinite tend 
 
 The creations that out of it start : 
 
 Unto every beginning an end, 
 And whatever arrives shall depart. 
 
 7 
 
 But I and my songs, for awhile, 
 As together away on the wing 
 
 We are borne with a sigh or a smile, 
 Have been given this message to sing- 
 
 The Now is an atom of sand, 
 
 And the Near is a perishing clod : 
 
 But Afar is as Faery Land, 
 
 And Beyond is the bosom of God. 
 
 189 
 
APPENDIX 
 
LORD LYTTON'S LAST POEM 
 
 I HAD not thought that severance from her side 
 
 Aught but a bitter pang could ever be ; 
 
 Yet this — the first time flowing seas divide 
 
 My days from hers, since that great day when we 
 
 To one another all at once became, 
 
 The sole man, I, and the sole woman she, 
 
 Of a new world where nothing is the same 
 
 As in the world that was, — e'en separation 
 
 Reveals an unanticipated bliss, 
 
 And all its pains find more than compensation 
 
 In our completer intercourse. It is 
 
 1 See Preface. 
 
 193 
 
That for the first time also we can write 
 
 Each to the other now without restraint 
 
 Or insecurity. 'Twas in the sight 
 
 Of others only that, while breathing still 
 
 The same air, and still treading the same soil, 
 
 We met ; save rarely, when our simple skill 
 
 Was helped by some strong favouring chance to 
 
 foil 
 The dragons of my heart's Hesperides. 
 And then the newness of our own desires 
 That would not suffer joy to be at ease, 
 And thoughts that, as along electric wires, 
 Flash'd none but brief and broken messages 
 Because the stint o' the costly time forbade 
 Love's longed-for luxury of full utterance — all 
 These interferences with freedom made 
 Our meetings marred, and mingled drops of gall 
 With the spoilt honey of their sweetest hours. 
 But now such furtive signs and hurried hints 
 Of feelings prison-bound by hindering powers 
 
 T 94 
 
Find confirmation nothing checks or stints 
 In the full-flowing fearless tenderness 
 Of written words, wherein the loaded heart 
 Loosens the long-pent and importunate stress 
 Of its dear burden. Absence, too, presents 
 A power (how often wished) to stand apart 
 A little while from this new past of ours, 
 This past so brief, so recently begun, 
 Scarce older than the rose of August's bowers, 
 And yet so full already of events, 
 So rich in marvels and in memories ! 
 And, thus, released from time's embarrassments, 
 To sort and set in order one by one 
 Its crowded treasures with undazzled eyes, 
 Their wealth explore and realise as true 
 Those bright confused experiences that seemed 
 Whilst still so all bewilderingly new 
 No surer than the sense of sweet things dreamed. 
 Until, mere jumbled heaps of gems no more, 
 But gem by gem in shining sequence spread, 
 
 195 
 
Love in lone hours may tell his rosary o'er 
 
 Nor miss one bead from memory's golden thread. 
 
 Heart's heart of mine ! Till life's last lingering 
 
 ray, 
 Will it not light us, though its sun be set, 
 That day of days, our memorablest day 
 Among the woods and ruins ? Our lips met 
 The first time then. 'Twas you that led the way, 
 Which only you of all our number knew, 
 For strangers to the land both I and they. 
 The others followed us. I walked with you. 
 And as we went you told me legends gay 
 Of the dead rulers of those ruins green ; 
 Counts of the Coast who there held royal sway 
 In the land's old time. All breezy bright had 
 
 been 
 The days till now ; but this was silvery grey 
 And soft and still. The path you led us wound 
 Along low brambled copses glimmering white 
 With giant hemlock. At the last we found 
 
 196 
 
A sudden clearing where the hill was quite 
 Unwooded. Ruin'd walls were tumbled round 
 Bare slopes of grass, and nought beyond in sight 
 But woods whose purple belts the prospect bound 
 Beneath us and about us left and right. 
 Poised on the sky-line of a little mound 
 You looked and listened, and your woodland eyes 
 Deepened, and from your lips came rippling clear 
 A short quick laugh. ' Our friends are, I surmise, 
 Still far behind us. Let us wait them here ! ' 
 You said, and down you sat upon the ground, 
 And I beside you. From the invisible sea 
 Came to us a long lone melancholy sound. 
 Else, all was still ; the hills, the woods, and we ; 
 Stiller than sleep. I heard, as in a swound, 
 My own heart beat, while side by side we sat 
 So silent. All your drooping face was drown'd 
 In a rosy glow. You loosed your mouse-grey hat, 
 And where you laid it low upon your knee 
 Round it I tried to wreathe — I know not what, 
 
 i 97 
 
Some long * * * weed. You shook your 
 
 brown curls free, 
 And made an effort vain to smoothe them flat, 
 And laughed again, but would not look at me. 
 Then we began to talk of this and that 
 In lifeless tones. Our thoughts from all we said 
 And all the scene that we were gazing at 
 Were far away. But we had grown afraid 
 Of silence. You were plucking tufts of grass, 
 And strewing them about you, blade by blade. 
 I mused — ' How oft may it have come to pass 
 That just where we are sitting here, we two, 
 The ruins round us and the revelling mass 
 Of the proud woods above us and below, 
 And the sea's voice familiar yet forlorn 
 Heard on the stillness, others sat before 
 In the unreckon'd years ere we were born ? 
 How often, too, when we shall be no more, 
 Will others on the wood-girt hillside here 
 Again sit talking while the day goes by, 
 
 198 
 
As we are talking now — as vainly near, 
 As falsely far with an inaudible sigh 
 Between them ! Others ignorant of our case, 
 Full of their own, and only moved thereby, 
 Yet haply stirr'd like us by thoughts too dear 
 For utterance ; and like us, : — at least like me, 
 Babbling about the features of this place 
 Albeit as heedless of them as can be ; 
 Talking for talk's sake only, who the while 
 
 Can only think of ' 
 
 There you raised your face, 
 And full on mine you turn'd it suddenly 
 With swimming eyes and half heart-broken smile, 
 Low murmuring ' Only think of — what ? ' 
 
 But I 
 Was silence-struck. Vain verbiage, brought to 
 
 bay 
 Abruptly by the sharp reality, 
 Grovell'd with inarticulate disgrace, 
 Dumfounded : Not a word more could I say. 
 
And shudderingly, all resistance vain, 
 
 Like things caught up, and seized, and swept 
 
 away 
 By the unconquerable hurricane, 
 We rushed together with a faint wild cry, 
 Closed in a mute embrace that present past 
 And future Love made boundless to engirth. 
 How long did those transcendent moments last ? 
 Enough to metamorphose heaven and earth 
 And both our lives, whose old world vanishing 
 
 fast 
 Reveal'd a new world glowing into birth. 
 When pillow'd on my breast lay pale, supine, 
 The passion-tranced submissive loveliness 
 Of your surrender'd beautiful soft face, 
 Breathing faint bliss, with lips upturn'd to mine 
 Half open, lids half closed ; and I could trace 
 In the deep languors of those longlash'd eyes, 
 Reveal'd at last, the whole pathetic tale 
 Of all the martyrdoms, the agonies, 
 
The pangs and rendings such a soul as yours, 
 
 Before it suffers passion to prevail, 
 
 In its resistance to the fierce surprise 
 
 Of love's invasion, silently endures; 
 
 Then I remember'd that throughout it all, 
 
 That time of dread suspicions, and fierce throes, 
 
 And proud revolts and warnings augural 
 
 Of evil, I, your poor friend, who Heaven knows 
 
 Would, if he thus might spare you love's least 
 
 ache, 
 Or win you any blessing peace bestows, 
 Have roll'd in Tophet's flame-pits for your sake, 
 Must all that woeful while have been by those 
 Ill-ominous denunciators made 
 To wear the semblance of your worst of foes, 
 The man of whom you should be most afraid, 
 His love, a wrong your pride must needs re- 
 sent, 
 His presence your young life's most menacing 
 And deadliest danger ; and yet none the less, 
 
Even when your heart most feared that dreaded 
 
 thing, 
 The shamed acknowledgment of love's success, 
 Even when your brave soul was the most intent 
 To save a noble pride from the distress 
 Of arms surrender'd in a noble strife, 
 That peerless perfect sense of justice blent 
 With all the instincts of a high-born heart, 
 Held fast ; nor ever did you stoop to vent 
 The trouble that was torturing your own life 
 On me, the cause of it. No peevish start 
 Of sudden coldness meant to mystify 
 The man who loved you ; no attempt to gain 
 Respite for doubt by even the smallest lie ; 
 No unjust word ; no cruel feminine art 
 Of self-protection practised in disdain 
 Of love's good faith. * * * 
 
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