SURPRISED by young desire, as by the dawn,
A young Orion, wildered, half awake,
Bedraggled, drenched in woodland ways withdrawn,
My heart, a-tiptoe by a dewy brake,
Spied the gods sleeping-vision of green lawn,
Pale ivory limbs, pillows of dappled fawn,
And a great quiet, and a stilly lake.
There the long grasses topped a banquet spread
-For that the turf had been their only table—
With cakes and fruits and delicate white bread,
Roses a-float in craters carved with fable.
There droop'd a wreath from each relaxed head,
And there on garland and on god were shed
The coverlet of years innumerable.
They perish not, beneath the secular oak-
Olympian Jove and all his greenwood train:
And yet no breath heaves any purple cloak;
Yet the thin leaves list on their lips in vain;
In vain the veils of morning, like a smoke,
Shake with the spiral lark. Be whist, invoke-
They perish not, yet will not live again.
Anon upon that lake a shudder swept,
And therewithal a feeble childish wail;
And lo! a naked winged babe that stepped
Shoreward atween the weed and galingale,
And sought the whitest Queen of all, and crept Close to her side, and clapped her cheek, and wept, And coaxed her ear with many an elfin tale.
"Mother, awake! The Western Wind arrives!
Down the long gulf he breaks a wavering stair
For Phœbus' gilded feet, and shoreward drives,
And sings across the meadows, debonair,
Pelting the Heaven with dust of golden hives,
Blown saffron bloom, and small birds with their wives,
And happiness in handfuls everywhere.
"Late as I couched high on the Latmian cliff, I heard the red pine whisper wakefully; I saw the pasturing brood-mare pause and sniff The salt newcomer; and with mainsail free A helmsman hailed me from his bobbing skiff'Praise the West Wind!' How shall I praise him, if,
If, Cytherea, he awake not thee?
"He may adorn the day; but ah! the darkThe dark destroys me! When the shepherds fold And hie them, each to his confederate spark,
His window lit, his beacon on the wold,
Then lie they warm. But me the house-dog's bark Drives houseless, quaking through the midnight park. All creatures love, but Love himself's a-cold!"
Thereat I stepped and gently him bespake—
"Dear child, my cottage hath an empty room,
A flask of thin wine and an oaten cake.
She, an she wake, will thank me-She, for whom
Kings left their loves, them blithely to betake
To war, the while that for her lovely sake
Wild war himself laid by his lance and plume."
Then first he started back a little space:
But after came and laid a hand in mine,
As glad of one that spake his mother's praise.
So forth we fared: and happy our design,
Till thou cam'st fluttering through the forest ways,
Thou, with the woodland sunburn on thy face,
Thou, in green kirtle pinned with eglantine.
"Hillo!" criedst thou, "what darling leadest there? Come, pretty chuck!"-and heaped him kiss on kiss,
"An orphan? Save thee from his mannish care!
Fond foundling, say, what do men know of this?"
"But he is mine," said I; "unless thou share-
"If thou," she falter'd, "hast but room to spare-
Fool, fool, fool heart! sub-letting thus thy bliss!
Thenceforward for a month, as shines in Lent
The mead with daffodils, my cottage shone
With days and nights-made-noonday, being spent
In serving him that first had made us one.
And then, as droop in April's discontent
Those daffodils, thy will declined and went
Forth from my door, leaving us there alone.
Ah, had we never met-or, having met,
Had I been wiser or thy heart less wild!
For, wanting thee, at first he 'gan to fret,
And then to hunger as a weaning child:
And perished, wanting thee. And yet-and yet-
Hadst thou but turned or showed the least regret,
How had he waked, and stretched his arms, and
smiled!
THERE is a captain that commands,
And never but to victory:
"The counsel of thine heart it stands,
No man so faithful unto thee."
Though seven senses watch the wall,
And all thy courage leap at call,
He is thine ark and arsenal,
Thine armour and artillery.
Yea, while the cloaked sentries tramp
And challenge with a deep "All's well!" He lists the sappers from the camp Encroaching on thy citadel;
Invisible he tries the guns,
And leaning o'er the bastions
Discerns the tented legions,
Earthwork and trench and parallel.
O man! in vain they creep and mine;
Thy ramp remains inviolate.
But if by folly or design
Thou force thy friend to abdicate,
A broken pole, a trodden keep,
The standard of thy soul shall weep,
And all her trophies lie a heap
That owls and satyrs desecrate.
By Talland Church as I did go
I passed my kindred all in a row:
Straight and silent there by the spade
Each in his narrow chamber laid.
While I passed, each kinsman's clay
Stole some virtue of mine away:
Till my shoes on the muddy road
Left not a print, so light they trod.
Back I went to the Bearer's Lane,
Begged the dead for my own again.
Answered the eldest one of my line-
"Thy heart was no one's heart but mine."
The second claimed my working skill,
The third my wit, the fourth my will;
The fifth one said, "Thy feet I gave ;
But want no fleetness here in the grave."
"For feet a man need have no care,
If they no weight of his own may bear.
"If I own naught by separate birth,
What binds my heel e'en now to the earth?"
The dead together answered back
|