THE LIGHT OF ASIA 50 Each slew a slayer and in turn was slain, A space, and let me muse on what ye show." SIR LEWIS MORRIS (b. 1833) 60 70 For still the world is young; for still the spring Jews itself, and still the lengthening hours ing back the month of flowers. The leaves are green to-day as those of old For Chaucer and for Shakespeare; still the gold Of August gilds the rippling breadths of wheat; Young maids are fair and sweet As when they frolicked gay, with flashing feet, Round the old May-pole. All young things rejoice. No sorrow dulls the blackbird's mellow voice, Thro' the clear summer dawns or twilights long. With aspect not more dim Thro' space the planets swim Than of old time o'er the Chaldean plain. We only, we alone, Let jarring discords mar our song, 21 And find our music take a lower tone. We only with dim eyes And laboured vision feebly strain, 547 In hall and cottage, to the casement rise As Adam knew, when first on either hand Nay, all things that are born of time Spring upwards, and expand from youth to prime, Spring up from flower to fruit, From song-tide till the days are mute, Green blade to ear of gold. But not the less through the eternal round 189 Some shadow of the glory of our King, That the pure heart in some blest sphere above, 200 The seer nor speaks nor thinks his thoughts sublime, And all of Homer is a speck of lime? Nay, friend, let us forget The conflicts of our doubt a little while, Again our springs shall smile; We shall not perish yet. If God so guide our fate, FROM THE CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT As I came through the desert thus it was, 176 185 ART I What precious thing are you making fast In all these silken lines? And where and to whom will it go at last? Such subtle knots and twines! I am tying up all my love in this, I am going to send it afar, afar, To I know not where above; To that sphere beyond the highest star But in vain, in vain, would I make it fast For ever its fire breaks out at last, And shrivels all the lines. II If you have a carrier-dove That can fly over land and sea; And a message for your Love, "Lady, I love but thee!" And this dove will never stir But straight from her to you, And straight from you to her; As you know and she knows too. Will you first ensure, O sage, Or will you fling your dove: "Fly, darling, without rest, 8 12 16 8 12 Over land and sea to my Love, THE EARTHLY PARADISE Of Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing, I cannot ease the burden of your fears, Or make quick-coming death a-little thing, Or bring again the pleasure of past years, Nor for my words shall ye forget your tears, Or hope again for aught that I can say, The idle singer of an empty day, But rather, when aweary of your mirth, Made the more mindful that the sweet days die 14 Dreamer of dreams, born out of my due time, Why should I strive to set the crooked straight? Let it suffice me that my murmuring rhyme Beats with light wing against the ivory gate, Telling a tale not too importunate To those who in the sleepy region stay, Folk say, a wizard to a northern king At Christmas-tide such wondrous things did show, That through one window men beheld the spring And through another saw the summer glow, THE EARTHLY PARADISE Forget six counties overhung with smoke, The clear Thames bordered by its gardens green; Moves over bills of lading - mid such times 20 A nameless city in a distant sea, White as the changing walls of faerie, Thronged with much people clad in ancient guise I now am fain to set before your eyes; There, leave the clear green water and the quays, And pass betwixt its marble palaces, Until ye come unto the chiefest square; A bubbling conduit is set midmost there, And round about it now the maidens throng, With jest and laughter, and sweet broken song, Making but light of labour new begun While in their vessels gleams the morning sun. On one side of the square a templę stands, Wherein the gods worshipped in ancient lands 30 Still have their altars; a great market-place Upon two other sides fills all the space, And thence the busy hum of men comés forth; 551 40 Pass now between them, push the brazen door, And standing on the polished marble floor Leave all the noises of the square behind; Most calm that reverent chamber shall ye find, Silent at first, but for the noise you made When on the brazen door your hand you laid To shut it after you - but now behold The city rulers on their thrones of gold, Clad in most fair attire, and in their hands Long carven silver-banded ebony wands; Then from the dais drop your eyes and see Soldiers and peasants standing reverently Before those elders, round a little band Who bear such arms as guard the English land, But battered, rent, and rusted sore and they, The men themselves, are shrivelled, bent, and grey; And as they lean with pain upon their spears Their brows seem furrowed deep with more than years; For sorrow dulls their heavy sunken eyes; Bent are they less with time than miseries. THE LADY OF THE LAND It happened once, some men of Italy Midst the Greek Islands went a sea-roving, And much good fortune had they on the sea: Of many a man they had the ransoming, And many a chain they gat, and goodly thing; And midst their voyage to an isle they came, Whereof my story keepeth not the name. Now though but little was there left to gain, Because the richer folk had gone away, Yet since by this of water they were fain They came to anchor in a land-locked bay, Whence in a while some went ashore to play, Going but lightly armed in twos or threes, For midst that folk they feared no enemies. And of these fellows that thus went ashore, One was there who left all his friends behind; Who going inland ever more and more, And being left quite alone, at last did find A lonely valley sheltered from the wind, Wherein, amidst an ancient cypress wood, A long-deserted ruined castle stood. 50 7 14 21 |