l5^fe > " itl III 1 ^'''^»^PL .^II? «1- Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2014 https://archive.org/details/noontidebranchesOOfiel Noontide Branches 1 50 COPIES PRINTED THIS IS NO. (/if k\q)V€s airrjopLOi ravarjs bpvos, tvary^ov vxj/os hvbpacriv aKpr\TOv Kav\xa ^vXacraop.ivoi's, evniraXoi, KepdjjLoov o-Teyavcarepot, ot/a'a (Jmittcov, oIkCq. rerrCycov, t-vbiOL aKpepLoves, KrjfJL€ rbv v[X€Tipai(TLV inroKXtvOivra KOfxaicnv, pvcrao-O' olktiv^v fjekiov (pvydba. Antiphilus. The Tersons Ervan A Knight of the WeH Country Dryaspis A Satyr of the Oak-coppice Artemis Dictynna Goddess of the Hunt Genifer The Lady of the Woods L.YSITHOE A Nymph of Artemis Satyrs : Nymphs : A Milkmaid Cherry. Scene A Woodland by a tidal river in the WeH of England. Artemis Dictynna enters with her Nymphs* HE silver tide, fretted by summer leaves, Sails past the woodlands, ebbing to the sea : But soon the joyous current will return To the last bridge that sucks the ocean-flow ; Soon will the morning swell to noontide, sooner Than ocean reach the freftiets. Time and waves And light are moving, yet my sylvan bands Delay their mufter and delay their flight After the prey that flies. Cold sifterhood, Whose vows are mine, rouse up the hern and rook With bugle-blaft that scales the thin-leaved elms, Those dainty wands engarlanded and high Above our Cornifh haunt : rouse up the laggard Among you that are absent, for today I would not have you idle. You mull ftablifli Our right to hunt the foreft as of yore, Since now a ftranger owns it, one who bought The country-side as mortals buy, unmindful Noontide Branches NOONTIDE Of anything beyond its roods — a lady Who, though a virgin and beside that grace Heart-free, inclines in no wise to my worlhip— As Chriftian maids among these holy vales Where Convents hide their loneliness, incline, Harming my candid ritual with threnes Worthy of Hades and of Charon's ear. She has, I know by that which in my bosom Is the great virgin art of prophecy, A nature adverse to solemnities That are to her as praise of barrenness, Or summer-time denied. So we muft prove Our freedom to the myftic ownerfhip Of her new foreft-acres. Sound your call, And bid your sifter-huntresses approach. Chorus of Nymphs Hither, fellows of the chase, Hither with the dry, bent bow, Hither with the buskin, hither With the chiton to the knee And inviolable zone, With the fillet at the temples, Breaft untamed, and cryftal voice Ringing through the foreft-brakes, Ringing through the weftern breezes, Mingled with the horn that echoes % BRANCHES And the pressure of the dreams* Come to prove your maiden zeft, Prove your own pure liberty, Ye whose spirits have no lord, Ye whose every sense is chill With the frefhness of its birth • Ye secure from any feeling That can visit as a doom j Ye who live and hunt as men, Ye who do not burn as they — Women in your pride and yet Never is the glory yielded ; Ye who fliare with mortals solely What is yokeless in their ftate, Sovereign each within yourselves f More Nymphs enter Artemis They come ; the boughs are tossing as with wind, The spears and hazel-withies intermingle, Rooks screech, the herons trail along the sky, And all the copse is glad and terrified — The mood it takes when hunt-ups challenge it. All armed and ready ? Nay, Lysithoe Is missing from the troop, Lysithoe My fturdieft nymph, beft trainer of my dogs, Crowning herself and them with oaken sprays t NOONTIDE When fhe has made wide ravage. We muft leave My doughty vagrant to her solitude, For the day warms, and through the glade a herd Of youthful Satyrs range. We will begone Before their laughter prick us to desire They wholly were what half they are — such beafts As we might slay unchallenged : and yet more To urge us to remove I see a boat Pufti up againft the tide and toward this creek, Rowed by a woman, our fair enemy ; And, by Adonis' footprints, fhe muft hear Beyond her sanction our halloos ring out. Artemis and her Nymphs retire ', 'while Satyrs enter dancing from the other side. Satyrs Frolic, frolic ! 'Tis the May ; Let us keep our holiday In this orchard old and gray We have won by wanton thieving. On a summer night we ftole Secret for the summer apples, Creeping paft the beech's bole. Not a mortal there to curse us ! How each Satyr tossed his thyrsus, Tossing too the golden apples High among the hoary moss, Where the woodland sunfhine dapples ; 4- BRANCHES And the cotter this perceiving, On his ladder where he flood, Left his pot of summer apples, Left the sunfliine where it dapples, Fled for ever from the wood. Frolic, frolic ! There is ftory That the gods forbade to eat Of the apple — therefore munch it, And with teeth nut-ftiarpened crunch it, As the rabbit eats the henbane, Let us browse upon the boughs I Of the scarlet apples sweet — That is in the autumn : now Patient till the trees are laden, We from thievifli luft refrain. We are here to smell the blossoms In among the lichens hoary ; Through the rankness of the grass To make passage, through the bluebells Path for Satyr's hoofs to pass. We are here to catch the maiden, Tripping down the leafy lane, And to fright her from her senses With our arms about her waift. Satyrs, hafte To the farmyard, to the dingle, 5 NOONTIDE To the ftied at milking-time • We with pretty maids will mingle ; For it is the sweet May-prime. Philampelos [making a dajh into the thicket, and leading out Cherry] Found ! Hylichore The fortune ! Cherry's self ! Cherry is the dainty elf Skims the cream & tends the cow r Cherry does not keep aloof, Has no fear of fliag or hoof • She will grace our dance — A round ! They dance : CHERRY disappear*. Drymon Sudden me has slipped away. Philampelos Ah, a boat is in the bay. Hylichore 'Tis the lady Genifer Come in wrath to look for her. But we will not lose our sport... Through the osmund-fern a snort ! Lo, we unwrap him, crouching from the heat. Dryaspis, make the dancers' ring complete. [DRYASPIS rising makes no response."] Bacchus, he scowls, and mark his surly lip. Dryaspis I own no more your gamesome fellowfhip. Drymon Why from the gossmoor have you kept aloof? Philampelos How is it that you go with dragging hoof? BRANCHES Hylichore And never toss the thyrsus ? comrade, say- Too human are you grown for foreft-play ? Dryaspis For anything but death The mortal's certain end ! I breathe another's breath, Go where her footsteps wend ; I see alone her eyes, And lose all other sight : As wind about the skies My body feels her flight ; And in my heart a fire Is the sole life I own, Yet that is but desire For her who leaves me lone. Drymon Is she god-born who hath this passion wrought ? Dryaspis She makes me weak & aged in every thought. Philampelos How like the winter ! From such love defend us ! Dryaspis Hear them, great Pan 1 Hylichore For it would surely end us. Drymon But hearken, Hylichore — mortal feet ! Philampelos Behind this briony I'll find retreat. Drymon I to the oaks ! Dryaspis And I to wander on, Lysithoe, wherever thou art gone. The Satyrs run out diversely as Genifer enters, Jenifer Hail my sweet forest ! I have left the stream 7 NOONTIDE That all can traverse for this blessed shade That is my own and lays upon my heart A weight of pleasure, as its branching tiers Crowd down on vision. And the bluebells ! Noon Is wooing all the azure out of them ; They deepen, and the shadow of a dove Passes across. But oh, this apple-tree, Amid the mossy and decaying trees ! — The bees enjoy, profound in every motion, In every hum, and petal after petal Steals down the air. Is it the deep-withdrawn And underswelling chorus of the bees, Absorbed in their response to the appeal Of all its whites and roses and ripe stains And tremulous shadows, petal after petal Stealing adown the air, that is too rich And forces me to tears ? I cannot tell ! I sigh for joy, and yet I feel a secret, A portent, something hidden reaches me Without confession, and I stand alone. Ah, what in woman's life should be portentous, What but the coming of that miracle Those who have felt call love ? I do not know it, Yet all the balm and light of summer time Seems woven one with hope. This little skiff That followed me a speck so far away, 8 BRANCHES Has followed to this reach, and if I bend The tassels of the oak aside I catch Glimpse of an oarsman nearing rapidly : And he is young — he gives me but the glint Of lips, a charming sun-frown and a drift Of tendrils on the brow. Oh, in myself I take for ever as a memory, And one that will not lie at rest, those lips. Ervan enters Ervan Lysithoe ! Genifer My name is Genifer. Ervan Then help me ; you are surely known to her. Genifer Where have you seen this lady of delight ? Ervan Where ! Oh, where is she not ? In orchard white, 'Mid daisies and the fallen apple-flowers ; And I have watched her unespied, for hours Dipping in frefhet or by plantain ftream, Under the cooling sycamore from beam Of the hot sun shading her lovely limbs ; Or caught her on the current as fhe swims Fearless from leafy river to the sea. Where is there haunt of hers unknown to me ? But I have angered her, and swift as tides Course o'er the covered sands from me she hides. You have her secret • say where she abides ! 9 NOONTIDE Genifer Could I but aid you ! Hard to understand Your quest... I am the lady of this land, Of these green forest-ftiores, of every creature Within their realm. So delicate of feature — Give me her eyes, the colour of her hair. Ervan Brown as the streams, her streams. Oh, I despair — So healthful and so regnant in her health, A huntress and an Amazon ! Your wealth You dream ordains you lady of this land — She has its wolves and wild-deer at command • She cherishes the eaglet from its nest Rocked by the storm, the leveret loves her breast ; Tho' fierce in slaughter, yet the softest broods Of April are not softer than her moods Of piety and ruth ; but never yet On mortal has her gentleness been set. If, as you boast, you own this holy made, You know the powers by whom you are obeyed. Genifer The forest-land is tenantless. Ervan Ah no ! How blind and deaf! I swear it is not so. Have you not seen the revellers of Spring, The fauns and satyrs, at their junketing ? Have you not heard their half-blown horns grow still Shamed by your presence ? On the rock-towered hill Have you not heard the huntresses awake 10 BRANCHES An echo that your voice could never shake Or woo to service with your merchant-gold ? Oh, you are wrapped in dulness manifold • You cannot help me. Genifer Sir, what I have heard, Whether from voice of tree or haunting bird Or rivulet, is loved as if my heart Went with the sound and with the sound took part : What I have seen is mine as if by gift, And given, its sweetness has for me no rift. A faun or huntress I have never seen, But had I known them, friends we should have been. Ervan This is the place ! 'Twas thus the hawthorn drooped Above the water, while my lady ftooped Between the blossoms and the river-brink— Genifer The tide was low, for now the hawthorns drink* ; One may not smell their blossoms. Ervan Gone the grace, For ever gone the genius of the place... And the dull flowers monotonously bloom ! Genifer To me these coverts have no trace of gloom. The sunftiine banks are soft and coy ; I find The creek, this moment, wholly to my mind. All, all is here I could desire to be, Morning and springtide's fluttered light, the sea, That ardent ftranger on its way to me, Soon to be wholly mine. Beneath yon bridge .i i NOONTIDE How the brine presses through the weedy ridge And takes the orchard fhadows to its gleam. You do not mark the current. Ervan Ah, you dream Of that which is. Genifer I have no memory To spoil the instant. Ervan You are passion-free ? 0 lady of the eyes one must not praise, So fteadfast is their sky, such summer-days They promise their beloved — you do not know ^The perilous sweets of love ? Genifer I pray you, go ! There is a bugle in my woods, the maid You love may be at hand. Ervan You are obeyed. But yet 1 heard no note. Lysithoe, How of a sudden you inform these shades With infinite, quick life ! [exit Genifer What loneliness Is on the hillside ! When I am removed From these my groves, my ftreams, from Mellynheil, And from the sweet, low ftream Trevederas, 1 see them thus, continuous in their waving, Continuous in their flow- but desolate As the dark woods of Chaos with no song ii BRANCHES From branch or bubbling fount. So seems it now For I am emptied of my place, left out, My ownerfhip disproved. I cannot see The nymphs at revel ; if there is enchantment Under the elder-copse, beyond its dense And ravifhing white honey, as too gross I am excluded from the spell : if spirits Call to the hills and catch their speech again, As in a mirror one receives one's face, Then it is true I have no ears — and yet While he was queftioning I heard a note As from a half-blown horn. So much is come And coming up the ftream to me : already The birds sing deeper, and freih scent is blown Across me tho' the honeysuckle's sealed Tight in its handful buds. But I muft weep To be so ignorant — how he overthrew me And mowed me what I am ! I have no power, The earth is locked away from me, except... Unless. ..O blessedness, I hear an echo From hidden voices, hear the baying hounds He loves the bay of : haply in their train The satyrs follow. This dear wood becomes The seat of many solemn myfteries. Purge me, O Love, to vision. Who is this ? NOONTIDE A Voice is heard. Neon, Tyras, haften, leave the rocks ! Leave the spiky ruscus and the broom, Turn and leave the fleeing beaft to flee. We will ease our limbs upon the moss ; We will watch the ocean sap the woodlands, Or ye both mail neftle to my bosom, Ye fhall sleep and I will dream awake. Lysithoe breaks through the underwood. In this spot, half-orchard, half the foreft > We will reft until the heat grows gray ; Till the breezes reach us with their fountains. Sleep ! — forget the chase, while I remember, I who have the power that savours joy When the joy has sunk into my blood ; And evoke it, pondering my captures, All my ravage, all your faithful prowess. Neon, Tyras, from the rocks descend ! She couches herself at a distance with her dogs. Genifer How mere a woman's comeliness, no nymph ! As fifher-girl frelh from the tide, me plucks Her camise from her bosom and flings down On my rock-seat diflievelled. How her dogs Fondle about her as flie curbs their ftrife ! If this fliould be Lysithoe' ! She dreams Of what ? — her troop of sylvan huntresses, BRANCHES Of triumphs in the woods, of the barbed spear Held by a tingling hand, the sudden onslaught, Grapple, and gory hide. 'Tis to her dogs She breathes her day-dreams, and her subtle geftures Give them the chase afresh ! But while me muses On baffled prey or cruel snare to spread, Her Knight, one urging torment in his bosom, Calls on her name, (advancing) Lysithoe — for so, If I interpret true, you call yourself... But firft, I do not err ? Lysithoe How timidly You put your queftion I Nymph of Artemis, Freebooter in the woods of late withdrawn From our wide ranges : more to trouble you, So your mild carriage tempts me to extremes, In wanton moments, truant from my Queen, Consort in revel to the gamefter Pan, Whose noontide sleep I vex with hazel-wands Till with a roar he wakes. Lysithoe Is certainly my name. Genifer Then you are sought And cried for through the foreft. ; one who loves you Has passed this way. Lysithoe The fool ! Genifer To me his sorrow Is as the saddeft thing my wonder yet Has found in life. Think for a little while— / NOONTIDE And make the dogs lie down — how in yourself You have a power to heal this misery, Curing at once the madness and despair So piteously mingled. O believe me. Lady, it is not that you touch a spear Like Artemis, it is because your feet As hers are finely arched, because your bosom Is open to the fhadow of the leaves And ftreaking sunfhine that you are pursued So hotly down the foreft. By your beauty Alone you can be cruel : be content, For 1 have seen one suffer for your sake Even to the mortal limit. Ly sit hoe I am senseless, Rock at the heart, and cannot wafte my time Trifling with love ! Genifer What are your joys, your pains Lysithoe Those that befall myself — my pleasure Is a freedom vaft and uncontrolled, Safe from bond of human sympathy, Safe from yearning as the Earth is safe. You can never live with secret nature, For the noise of love's remorseless claim Beats between your senses and her ftealth • You can never compass her great passions. While for me, my ears are but the echo Of her breezes, of her flafliing sounds, BRANCHES Stir of inftant will or soft suspense. I can reach to wonders that have dwelling Far beyond the cock-crow, or the chorus Of the birds before they sleep at eve. I have followed your own iris-river Where its earlieft reed-beds quiver, Where it fills the ditches under willows, Dark as any pool, to where it spreads In a marfh of marigold, sweet gale, Crumpled cressy beds, or seems to fail, Then sudden reappears, sweet Mellynheil, Sculpturing the sands on the lone beach Between the sullen headlands, till it reach The foam profuse of the high-moulded billows. Would you learn to meditate You muft be content to wait Empty-hearted on a great, vague more, Wind and sunfhine pass before ; Would you dream, or would you wonder At the heavens we live under, At man's life so quickly run — When a ftorm beats on the rocks, High above the ocean-thunder, Let your eye rove where in flocks Sea-birds fly across the sun. Gentfer I cannot bear the beauty : when a ftorm Beats on the ftormy headland of Trevorse, 17 NOONTIDE My heart is with the fifher-folk, the peril Keeps me in awe : the environs of death Are as a holy ground, and Death himself A King that touches all with majefty On his great progress. Our poor cottagers Receive him simply and are blessed. Lelant Even now is mourning for her diftant dead, Brought to her feet so close by the mere warn Of waves upon the sand. Lysithoe, There is behind the ftorm, within the rose A myftery that I behold and weep. Lysithoe The sun is waning • it is idle longer To think of noontide sleep. I came to reft, And found myself a trespasser, forbidden The unmolefted silence of your woods. Ho, Neon, Tyras, I will seek the flielter Of the deep ilex-gullies in the cliffs, Till the hard light grows limpid for the eve. Genifer You fliall not quit these precincts — Oh, abide ! Here you are sought, here loved, the echoes here Answer your name : for me, I fly your lips. [exit, Lysithoe Then, Tyras, we will slumber. How yon owl To cool himself fans with his golden plumes Above the ftreaming willows. Pan himself Is scarcely safer buried in his grot Than I in this light play of leaves. What colours Burn through my closing eyelids, what a sense 18 BRANCHES Of gold and lulling feathers in the air ; What buzz of insects far away : I sleep. Dry asp} s [crawling from under ayeui] O lady, O my sun that slays. In grace achieve my death ; Have courage of thy cruel gaze, Smite with thy cruel breath : The grandeur of no mercy, queen, Give as thy satyr's meed - y And let him die as he hath seen The great sun quench a weed. Lysithoe Hence to thy herd, and leave me to my reft. J>ryaspls You of the haughty eye and naked breaft, You do not know... ah, will you ever know The utter loneliness, the wandering woe Of those that love till day and night are pain, Consumed by smart that never may attain, And by an image bolder than their nerve, Conftrained to worfhip, yet as bondmen serve. You do not know how youth can fail With passion, and no friend avail ; How Spring becomes a fell disease. And nothing flowered or green can please. A terror at myself has filled My limbs and to my centre thrilled. Oh, hear my gentleness appeal ! My hours are severed from their weal — NOONTIDE No more my feet can dance, No more the pipe is blown, No more in noontide trance, On couch of whortle thrown, I snore, yet hear my sleep, And close my lids, yet see In midft of languor deep The red light muffle me. I leave the owl unchased, Nor eat the seed of cones ; My limbs, by health once braced, Have withered into bones ; I cannot call my goats, My breath is such a sigh : The birds with vernal throats Give to my heart their cry, While I beneath them ftray, And care not if the briar Rend my long fleece away , Care not for duft or mire, For leaping rain or sun — Things that were bright are ftrange, The loathed no more 1 fliun ; They pass beyond all range Of any thought or choice : I have no world but you. No climate but your voice. BRANCHES No ftroke but your adieu. Ly sit hoe Receive it on the inftant and farewell... So may I never see you in this dell. Die, and atteft what none has ever mown, That love is mortal and no passing moan. My dogs mall hunt you from my presence. Dryaspis Then You summon help that is your doom with men. Lysithoe Neon and Tyras, seize him ! Dryaspis Set them on ! My club is heavy. There ! One foe is gone • The other... ah, his teeth am a beaft As well as he, but, Neon, not your feaft ! Stunned like your fellow-brute ! [to Lysithoe] And now no fteel Can save you, huntress, and no pert appeal. Mine are you — Lysithoe Dian ! sifters ! Help, O Pan, Help, whosoever from this faftness can ! Dryaspis I will not go unsatisfied — a rage Wakes in my blood no censure can assuage, And only joy extinguifh. You are mine, Your terror and abasement thrill like wine. Shriek on ! I have my minute born of fire, And it fhall die of its complete desire. Lysithoe Help, help ! O fliame ! Ervan springs down the hake. zi NOONTIDE Ervan She needs me. Loose her dress, Y ou vile abuser of her loveliness • Down to the earth and crafh againft the rocks, You who have dared to handle her gold locks. [to Lysithoe'] Bliss ! you needed me and I was near, Bliss beyond the bliss that lovers weave — Though I grasp it, all my soul is drear With misgiving left my pride deceive. Now you pant, as glorious as when dawn Flafhes into light and heat and day, Through your veil in many flitters torn. Radiant presence, urge me not away ! Lysithoe Neon is murdered. Ervan Your betrayer slain. Lysithoe Am I beloved of my great queen in vain ? O Artemis, O Hecate, dear Titan Whose rule is ever honoured, child of hell, Infernal sorceress, who sit'st by tombs, And let'st the murdered dead make plaint to thee, Giving to peftilential winds their warrant To rave, to nightly dews to drop as blood — Hear me : my life is torn across. This hound, My nurseling, has been with me through the moods Of many years ; we have been glad together, And he has never once been sorrowful Except when I was hurt : by all the forces zz BRANCHES Thou keep'st in leafh to loose on infamous, Obscure and unregarded crime, avenge This creature's death ! There is no other bond Like this deep, silent knitting with his kind ; No other wound that pierces in this sort. O Hecate ! Ervan That fondness — dole and crying Are lavifhed on her hound that lies a-dying... In this daze of hate I cannot woo, I can only ravifh and undo : But that cry, that fondness ! I am mute ; Give me what you gave that senseless brute, Pour on me that voice if you would move, Pour that godlike lavifhness of love. You are mad th* affection to deny Made the long, unsorrowed years slip by As a dream to those that loved of old. You are mad, with grief so uncontrolled Fatal blow of a rough hand to rue, Pouring your hot wrath on him that slew, Yonder churl, your raviftier. Lysithoe And you— Clenched in your hand why do you hold my veil ? Ervan As a man, your lord, 1 would prevail. If the cry within me could be told, You are all my blood has power to hold • NOONTIDE In your beauty, in your arms my youth Fain wonld merge as its completing truth. All my flefh is mad for you — refuse ! And the curse you ftrike me with subdues Speech and hope and faculty and name ; All I was swells up in me as blame, All I am burns an unguarded flame. Anguifli ! And I need you with each sense, Gaze and touch and hearing so intense Spirits when they fliudder in God's sight Scarce can know excess as infinite. Lysithoe lifts her arms to heaven. Ah, you so would arm yourself. I feel Prayer upon your lips — to me appeal • The god in me alone can save you Th' exasperated lufts that brave you, That cry out for your blood. Lysithoe O Artemis, Kindle the mortal hatred, let me fall A sacrifice to thee, as the lone ftranger Fallen on a hoftile coaft, or gather me Safe into flower or ftream. I have no fear, So that thou keep me holy for thy use, A maiden, unpolluted. Let me die And hide me deeper in thy mountain caves, In the blue darkness where the light is bred ; 24. BRANCHES And in a silence as of drifted snow Let me receive thy piercing benison. 0 Artemis, as thou didft half recover A maiden, Hades-loft, be pitiful ; 1 love thee, guard in me thy attributes, Guard thou thy godhead. Ervan Dumb the ftone ; Idol for man's breaking — I alone, Mortal folly that you cannot see, I alone can save you : give to me But an inftant's worlhip with your face, Let me feel its influencing grace — Music of your being on its way Singing its own dreams, and I obey Every movement of its inftinct clear : You are safe as if with veil and spear. So you can overcome. Lysitfroe O Light, O Star, O secret Heaven folded in thyself, Hear not the blasphemy ; but since this mortal Speaks of pure love, O guardian of the mountains, In name of thy Endymion, I appeal- Guard me for sake of him whom thou didft love As in a vision, whom thou didft behold, And infinitely linger — virgin love So penetrates its bliss. Goddess, this man NOONTIDE Deems he can look into our myfteries, Who spurns not Aphrodite. Let thy dews, Thy deserts, the frore glitter of thy nights Arm me and fhield. [enter Artemis. The veil drops from his hand ; Mother, thou fold'ft thine round me ; not in flight We leave him ; but with liberal, free fteps. Thou haft thy Nymph, Lysithoe — Artemis My child ! [exeunt . Ervan What pressure in the air, what influence As if of angered ftars, and then a music Sweet as Hesperia's apple-guarding song, Remote, and travelling as if to islands Hidden beyond the verge... [turning back to Dryaspis] Her conjured hate Stifles my bosom. [Dryaspis stirsJ] Then you are not dead ! Dryaspis Where is Lysithoe ? If you have slain her, I can turn back to sleep. Ervan [flinging Lysithoe 9 s veil over Dryaspis] There! cover you! For I myself will bring you back this spear Dyed in her blood. Lysithoe is slain. Lysithoe ihall not vex us. You may sleep. [exit, Dryaspis I would run Away, away,., not after her... away ! %6 BRANCHES For the sun Shines on the ground too silent for the day : I would run ; it is too great to ftay — But a weight is on my limbs ; How the foreft rocks and swims, And how open every sound Through the branches, from the ground. I muft follow, I muft hear Every bubble of the springs Frefli below the choking salt ; Hear continuous sway of wings, If they pass or if they halt. Oh, to hear no more — to lose all sight, Feel no pang that gnaws, no ftill fright ! But my breath is bubbling like the springs That uplift the tide : All my body pulses as if wings Strove in my side — Then 1 sigh... But the bubbling hreath, the flefh that beats ! Something presses close and then retreats. Oh, to die ! Bitter, bitterer than pain, Sharper than unkindness : ftream and foreft wane, While more close the woe » NOONTIDE Presses inward, seems to grow — That Dryaspis Ihould be slain, That so fond a thing as he, Faithful, lufty, yet mould be Stained with his own blood and lying Underneath his oak-leaves dying. Philampelos comes from the wood. Philampelos Satyrs, run from dripping rill, From the holt and from the hill, From the ivy's long cascade Over rock and wall and roots, From the beeches' green-grass fliade And the ring of elder-fhoots... For Dryaspis I have found Looking ftrange upon the ground, Crying like an owl, then ftill... Drymon, Hylichore and other Satyrs run in. Satyrs All together let us go And discover what his woe : All together — only so ! Drymon Dare you queftion, dare you come ? If I look it ftrikes me dumb ; I muft cover up my eyes. Hylichore I will ask him why he cries, For he cannot hurt us. See ! BRANCHES Round his forehead booms a bee, Booming Tes or No or Yes ? With unQiaken easefulness. Let us to our gueft repair, Run along and cease to flare... Stop ! we will not go too close, For Dryaspis looks morose. Tell us, moon-calf creature, tell What has chanced or is not well ? Drymon My very heart turns and I will not flay. Philampelos Ah, the truant he would play ! Hylichore, hold him firm ! He forsooth to pull and squirm ! Drag him close — Dryaspis speaks : No, no, he whittles ; and how pale his cheeks. Hylichore I hear a word — Drymon Softly ! He fights for breath. Hylichore Liften ! I caught the sound and it was death. Philampelos Oh, then draw back, dear playmates, and no longer Importune : Chiron says that death is ftronger Than anything we see or touch or hear ; He says it makes a world beneath us drear, And is the icy winter of our year, The ruin of our bowers and every leaf. We mufr. not come too close to such a grief Now it has touched Dryaspis — no, we may not • Hence, and if coldness fall upon you, flay not ! t 9 NOONTIDE Hylichore Let us sit upon the rim Of the wood and keep our faith with him ; For he is a Satyr and 'tis due To his foreft-race we mould be true : Yet if any bread mould grow too chill We can fly among the brakes from ill. Drymon I can never sit so grave and ftill ! Here are summer apples ; with our feet Kick the little balls that are not sweety Kick them through the grass — So the time will pass. Hylichore All the birds are busy at their food, At their love or play ; We are nothing to them in the mood We muft keep to-day, Nothing more than roots or ftones upftanding. Drymon See that golden mother-squirrel landing Six bright young ones from the ftream — How their eyes look out and round and gleam ! If Dryaspis had not spoken, If our vigil could be broken, With the squirrel we would be In an inftant up the tree. Oh, 'tis solemn ftill to die ! I muft fly ! Thilampelos Huih ! There is no time for flight : For the lady from whose sight 30 BRANCHES We have hidden is returning Swift as if her fteps were burning : Yet flie cannot have more wit Than the squirrel or the bird • Therefore sit Motionless, without a word. [enter Genlfer. Genifer Sweet inlet, Dear beach of fern and sea-weed where he trod, Though there are other footprints, I muft come To trace his footprints ; if 1 can, recover His voice, not as he raised it to the hills, But softened to the wood-dove in its note Of wonder and appeal. I live for him, And since he flees me I muft take possession, Faft as he quits it, of each vacant place. Ah me, will he return ? This sycamine He set his tawny head againft, these bufhes He mredded so impatiently, this mirror That I looked down into, and learnt how black The luftre of his sorrowful, gray eyes ! I saw him for an inftant up the rocks Still in pursuit, I saw — [perceiving Satyrs'] But what is this ? My glade is peopled, or my eyes deceive ! Shapes watch it round, and here among the drift From flowery apple-ftuds a quivering bulk Half-man, half-beaft, is couched. A little dread 3c NOONTIDE Slips through me : 'tis so novel and suspicious To see these ftatue-beings from the grass Reach to the low-swung branches, blink their eyes. And make no sound... I know them ! These muft be The Satyrs, smug of nose, with tilted lids, Fur like the juniper and leafy smile. I know them ! Woodland people, do not keep Such awe of me left I grow terrible To my familiar self... A sob ! Alas, Your King is hurt. Brymon She ftoops ! Behold her, With Dryaspis propped againft her ftioulder : What a wail he gave and bit her hands • Now he looks at her and underftands. But me... Hylichore O lady, put him back again ; In your arms he muft no more remain — He is ill, And your youth and beauty he will kill, If you lay him thus upon your heart. We, who love your voice, beseech you Lay him where he cannot reach you, In a fhady place apart. Genifer Good folk, you misconceive : those who are dying Need all the love that we can give — so sadly Their eyes and hands take leave, and they themselves 3* BRANCHES Each moment miss some clearness of our life : They will not harm or curse, for in their smile Is the bare light of blessing ! I would win you To help me tend your fellow. Brim this cup. Loosed from my chain, with water, fetch me branches Of ftreaming leaves to fan with, and large blades To lay across the hurt • fetch tormentil, Plantain, or sicklewort or Aaron's rod — But wafte no time. AU Our god's own goddess, no ! At your gentle word we go Leaping, running to and fro. Philampelos I for leaves and tormentil. Drymon, you the cup fhall fill. Hy Uch ore I alone ! 1 have no fear, Now {he holds him, to draw near ! [to Genifer] Let me have your sacred bowl ; I can dip it in a hole Where the waters muft be chill. Genifer Small forefter, my thanks. The Satyrs run away to serve her* Ah me, I doubt — For death has put the severance of its cold Between me and these fingers I would chafe, This face I would relume. He looked at me With the full look that only beafts can give, 33 NOONTIDE And then lay quiet. Did I catch his name ? Dryaspis, do not tremble ! How his curls Twine buftiy round his horns, how ftrong the ftrength He owned to-day.. .Even now he lifts his hand As if to ward a blow. I hold you close. The lady of your woodland loves you. The Satyrs return. Hufh! Dry won A leaf! Thilampelos A branch ! Hylichore The pearly cup Filled from yonder ftreamlet up. Genifer Keep your firft vigil. With a perfedt choice You bring me all I need : but some of you Still wander — call them y they difturb their fellow With noise of fteps across the winter-leaves. Ervan Breaks through the trees Behind Genifer. Dryaspis [opening his eyes'] 9 Tis he ! Oh, hide me in your sil- ver dress. He wounded me. Genifer A knight all gentleness. You misconceive. But there ! Lay down your head ; He can not see you now. Ervan She has outsped 34- BRANCHES My feet, my spear ! Ah, would that fhe were dead. Genifer What sighs ! Ervan Lysithoe ! Dryaspis [softly to Genifer] My fear is fled. Let him draw up, close, for I am sure I have learnt a secret that will cure Those harm sighs. Lysithoe — Ervan , Her name ! Who echoes it ? Dryaspis You have been much to blame Seeking to kill her, if you hate her so : That will never ftop your sighing • You muft die as I am dying ; And it is so soft to die. All seems happened long ago In a picture, like the lake Of the flitting wood doth make — I mall see it far below, I fhall see it by and bye, When the current does not lhake... Ah, how dizzy is the sky ! Hold my hand — He Stretches out his hand to Genifer and dies. Ervan I am reproved • Even this poor fool sees clear What's to do, being unbeloved. IS NOONTIDE I take his counsel ! Genifer Ervan, drop your spear — And for my sake. There is no need of speech, When life's great music thrills us as a wind, We liften to by breathing. Do not weep ! Ervan You cannot know. I took from him his breath. Genifer What, will you leave me in the woods with death ? Ervan A murderer flees. Genifer I loved this boy. ..the reft — Give me that spear — mail not be twice confessed. Be comforted : not of his hurts he died, They were not mortal. See how from the foreft His fhaggy people troop to bury him. They would be private • scarcely may one see Even in lharpeft winter on the moss A ftarved bird perifh : we muft suffer them To pass in silence to their rites. Ervan How firm Her hands close on the spear-head. Genifer. The Satyrs troop round Dryaspis, a little bajhfully at firB } then they lift him up <& bear him away. Satyrs We who loved him so, We would kiss and sunder • But Dryaspis will not go, 36 BRANCHES That is juft the wonder. What is come and gone Seems to linger on, As if yefterday Burffc into our play. Look ! The creature is grown gray and cold ; We muft carry it away To our ancient treasure-hold, The great cave we dare not name — Then it will be all the same. Genifer [to Hylichore, who is lasl.'] Then you will come back into my copses. Drymon, Hylichore — you have taught me Each your name, and I will guard your secrets. Or will quite forget them at your pleasure. Do not fade away. Hylichore joins the troop who sing with him. We muft : farewell. Drymon & Thilampelos Farewell, farewell : We cannot dwell With mortals by : Where the rose is plucked we die : We muft keep aloof From the cotter's roof, From the smoke of cotter's fire • Come, we will retire NOONTIDE To the moift, black mire. Where the foreft sluices ooze, Where the matted fhadows lie, And, by Pan's own reeds, refuse Rutted track that mortals use, Left our pelt and hoof we lose, And our whisper from the tree. [exeunt. Ervan But, Genifer, if you will say to me What you have said to these impassive churls, Guarding my secrets or forgetting them... But hear my oath : by me they are forgotten Abhorred, dismissed. I hate Lysithoe, I hate the hills Her feet have traversed, hate the wolfifli hounds That bay about her, hate her huntress-dress, Her ftubborn solitude, her blind recoil From man's moft solemn worfhip. If these woods Are dear, it is — at laft I underftand — It is that you, sole lady of this land Within the precincts of this fhadowed creek, Have drawn me to your heart. You mall not speak — O gracious to have spoken ! Take my prayer, And hear it, would you save me from despair. Genifer I cannot speak of love — Love is too close, And it would vex me even that a god Should ever hear the terrible, low cries Charging my heart. You found my woods so full, 38 BRANCHES And they are emptied now of everything, Satyr and nymph, and what of human breath Is breathing with the leaves. There is no want That Love and Death can fail to satisfy, And these desert us never. O my magic, Enchanter of my womanhood, so dull You found me ! Now there are in me such moods, The jealous royalties, the patient awe Alike of serf and queen. You will not weary, You never will have reft. Ervan O darkened eyes, Worfliipped through every splendour of their ftorms, Give me your light again. He Harts, arretted by the diftant sound of music. Genifer You turn aside, Your ears are ftill attentive : elfin-horn No more will quick the air. Ervan Its notes I scorn. But liften ! Genifer Do you deem you will not hear Within my foreft any sound except The flutter of the leaves because we laid Its demon-maskers ? At the name of love They ftirivelled as at outbreak of the day Night's conjured spirits flee. Yet none the less Will you be visited, at unawares, NOONTIDE By ravifhing music : sometimes it will spring Within, or you will catch it indiftinct As the sea's burthen when it gathers up The waters for the pressure of the tides. The senses are not blank or unattended That feed where silence is. See, from yon covert Below the ivied chapel on the fteep, How gay a crowd disperses, and how white The thread of the procession in its midft : These are the country maidens met to praise Our Lady of the Summer— See, they wend On toward the city : we may catch their voices Now nearing us, now far. Come, let us sit Together, and together mark the chaunt, That I may know I have you for my own, And flay the heart-break of the ecftasy Awed by the softer ftrain. Ervan Ay, Genifer ! {aside) And while from Heaven's approach sweet peace fhe wins, I muft confess how murder-black my sins. Procession of boys & girls singing. AVE ^ moft fair, Queen of our bowers, Queen of the woodlands, and the white-thorn air, Of furzy reaches, 40 BRANCHES Wave-breaking, solitary beaches, And the lone farmftead in its {haded nook : Thou who doft look On moorland lamb forsook, Who in time of drought Join'ft us, praying on our knees For the barley and the pease, And doft not weary of thy prayer, until The ears with corn do fill, The fallow breathes, the tender blossoms sprout As children fhouted on thy Son's highway, With mimic praise, with snatch of angel-song, And sallow-flowers, On a far holiday. Deep ftar into the dawn had passed, We, or by lane or ferry, Had ftolen, trembling, to this foreft creek To deck thy Ihrine, Emptying our river-wood Of all we could, Of honeysuckle, blooms of dropping cherry • To thee we fhout And round his ass did throng, Procession of maidens. A VE, moft meek ! , Before the laft NOONTIDE Melampyre, vetches, purple columbine. Nor did we quite forget, Mingling in posies wet, Woodruff and alkanet, Thy hues of robe and veil. O spotless virgin, hail ! We bear with eager feet, Through tainted city-ftreet, The fragrance of thy purity, We give our voices unto thee, Nor fhall our chaunt, or our procession fail Through the blue noontide heat : But we, by moor and vale, Though our bright garlands flag, on thee will call, Beseeching thee to give us good Of thy pure maidenhood, Till evenfall. The mothers Band at the chapel-gate \ watching the procession of maidens and children out of sight : then they turn slowly towards their homes, chaunting. Dear Mother, hail ! Nor flowers in bloom, Nor chaunt we offer thee - y O Lady of the tempeft and the sea, To thee, long since, we have confided The children of our womb : 4* BRANCHES And, by thy breaft, divided Sevenfold in sorrow, by the loneliness, When, thy Beloved being gone, Even from thy reft, His tomb, Thou did'ft live on, We, tempered by the patience of thy heart, Have learned to part,.. We bless Our sons, we watch them forth, Not to return • and from the little path Halting to thy green altar in the vale, Where we can see The Babe for ever on thy breaft, We say the prayers of thy sweet rosary, Turn to our homes and reft. [exeunt. Genifer She prays for you. Ervan If fhe would pray ! O Genifer, the wrong That 1 have wrought, that piteous funeral, And all the gaiety put out of gear — Genifer But death muft come. Ervan It is not that intrusion ! Death is a simple thing to these that die Simply as Nature bids them ; juft a failure To feel what others feel, a my dislike, A loneliness, a lying in the made, And then the sudden nightfall : but his death, And all this sylvan folk without a god — 4-3 NOONTIDE If She would pray for them ! Genifer Be comforted — When Chrift went down to Limbo, He descried How many plagued and sorrowful, how many Shut up in ignorance, from inftinct missing What they had never known ! He drew them forth Through the ftill vaults, and brought them secretly At dawn to threfhold of his Mother's door, Who, firft embracing Him, took, for his sake, These ftrangers to her heart : so we will put Dryaspis in our prayers. But jealously, Moft jealously guard an undying hatred For the cold nymph that tempted him, your spear Had juftly sped. Ervan Yet of our Lady's grace, O Genifer, I look into your face, Clean of blood-guiltiness. Lysithoe — Genifer Be prey to her own dogs. You are with me. Ervan My fiery sapphire, yes ; Genifer But quick ! the tide Is ebbing faft ; you muft not tarry here, Left I fhould hold you bond. Ervan You are with me, And if I draw you now down to the boat, It is that I may cross to yonder chapel Where the good prieft ftill lingers, wed you faft, 44 BRANCHES And by all hard, inextricable ties Knit you my own. It is too perilous To guard the treasure of so great a love Till by your vows you have confirmed it mine, O Genifer, for ever. You are dumb ! Genifer We travel where speech has no power : I come. <^5u <*^» Csu C^n <"^» HN) nx* Tn j Ts* «"^» HS) r^j r^_>