oi California Regional Facility i^ilnie^isbeV ^.^^^AT^yy- f^ -^^.-e-u^^^ , . ^ THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES 1^9 v^-\ ^\ THE ^MATADO^. " The mocrJcai):s strike aj^aiitsl the -.aH, 'J hey lie e>e.ss/atc/ieU upon 1/ie Jloct .'' [Page 65. OTHSTi^ \6CIT^1'IV6 TI6CSS HUME NISBET Author of " Memories of the Months," etc. XonDon: 1893. HUTCHINSON &^ CO. 34, PATERNOSTER ROW. DcMcateO TO THE ONE WE LOVE SO DEARLY, H. K. N. WTien leaves were green and lilies spread, Where Love then stood a crownld Queen ; Spring to the summer sun was wed When leaves were green. Love sighing 'neath an ebon screen. While stars were scattered overhead. And all worth life lay couched between. This hour is draped in grey and red ; Love idly moans o'er what has been, Beside a bier of wishes, bred When leaves were green. PREFACE Before the altar of Kali, the Destroyer i.e., the mystic goddess of modern criticism I meekly come to lay my present offering of vile words, with myself, so that she may crush me if she is disposed, the while that I honour her condescen- sion, wisdom, and unerring perception of the good and evil, the weak and the strong of this earth, who are brought before her august judgment-seat and quenched. Oh, great Kali ! the thirsty spouse of Savi, can I honour thee more than by prostrating myself and offering my miserable efforts to thee, while I implore thee to crush me and them into pulp ? For then, oh, rare goddess ! I may hope to live X PREFA CE. in the future, sanctified by the weight of thy condescension, and purified by thy fierce breath, as the lives and offerings of those who have gone before have been crushed, so that they themselves might live after they have been sacrificed to the deities of their times. Sweet Kali, walk over thy worshipper. Great Kali, behold him at thy feet a wretched but devoted slave. Dread Kali, he is dumb while he waits. CONTENTS THE MATADOR ABU KLEA .... ISANDULA .... THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM A DYING PAINTER THE SERVANT OF GOD THE DEATH OF CLEOPATRA FESTA SACARUM . LIBERTY . . . . INNOCENCE . . , . LOVE : AN IDYL . OCTOBER : A MONOLOGUE . THE TOY . . . . PAGE I 15 23 29 51 57 81 89 95 lOI 107 IIS 121 CONTENTS. THE LAMENT OF TINTORET WINTER mammon! SANCT AGNES .... COLOUR STUDY: THE RISING MOON THE MOSS LAND .... A FORENOON EFFECT: BORDERLAND SPRING SHOWERS A MISTY TWILIGHT ... ON STYLE THE TANGLED SKEIN . WARK CASTLE .... PAGE 141 161 169 THE MATADOR. THE MATADOR. I. Keep her back, oh, holy Father, While I whisper in your ear. Though I love her, I would rather That my words she did not hear. II. Do you think that I am slaughtered ? For if dying I'll confess. Yet I've oft before been battered, And the pain is growing less. III. Oft before have I been mangled, Yet the doctor shakes his head. And my thoughts seem more than tangled ;- All the world is growing red. THE MATADOR. IV. I can see the smiles I courted While the stupid bull stood tame, Till the gaudy sash I sported, To arouse his eyes to flame. V. Bend down closer, holy Father, Can you grant me peace to die ? Keep her back, for I would rather Not j^^" look within her eye. VI. I have sinned, and I regret ;it ; Yet that golden orange time. Could I in my grave forget it. Or the cursed, madman crime ! VII. One that drifted from the Rhine-land, With two pale-blue eyes, and hair Like yon wisp of straw, the twine-band Holding up her baby there. THE MATADOR. VIII. Bend down closer, she is nearer, ^ And I would not have her know How that Gretchen was the dearer, Or the end of that love woe. IX. She was pure until I met her, It was I who made her bend ; She was fond had I but let her, Fond and steadfast to the end. X. All that harvest-time we courted ; She was easy led, and young, I self-pleased, and so we sported Like two kittens, played and sung. XI. Ah ! those pale-blue eyes, those tresses, See them gleaming over there ; That white neck, the small hand presses O'er the ugly gash when bare. THE MATADOR. XII. Holy Father, I 'twas did it, And the gentle devil lied When she to the judge, to hide it, Made a story up, and died. XIII. She was lavish in her plenty, Free and gracious with her smiles ; Surmed the world, just under twenty, Guileless in her little guiles. XIV. I, all jealous, grudged the sharing With my kind that graciousness ; Took to watching and comparing Others whom she seemed to bless. XV. I was jealous ah ! you fear me, Jealous, and without a cause. How these raging demons tear me. Who thus slid 'tween Justice' claws ! THE MATADOR. XVI. Why ? How can we tell what moves us, When this foeman sacks the heart ? Why we doubt the thing that loves us ? Chance a word will fling the dart. XVII. Yes, I think it was the jeering And vain boasting of a boy, Whom she laughed with, nothing fearing, In the fulness of her joy. XVIII. Father, surely night is falling, And my heart is numb and sick. Shrive my sins, for she is calling ; Something tells me to be quick. XIX. This is Seville, with its fountains, And its walls upon the plain, Cooled by breezes from the mountains. Sweet, pure airs which soothe all pain. THE MATADOR. XX. And it winds, broad Guadalquivir, To Cordova, where we met. She was sailing down the river Fresh that first sweet glance comes yet. XXI. She had come from Barcelona, By the sea, and I from Jaen. No not Gretchen, but the Donna : Yes, I learnt to love again. XXII. Learnt to love as man loves woman, Learnt to feign a joy unfelt. Not as first not beast, nor human Heart can melt, and melt, and melt. XXIII. Yet we must have something near us, Or these thoughts would drive us mad ; And a woman best can cheer us. You have what I never had, THE MATADOR. XXIV. A clear conscience, sanctifying All your hours of lonely life. I was satisfied with buying Rest beside a faithful wife. XXV. Is this Seville ? Let's begin it, It is but a paltry scratch ; Stuff my scarlet sash within it, And stand ready for my catch. XXVI. Are they waiting, fair signoras ? We have won too oft to fail ; There lows not a bull can gore us. ***** Ha ! sJie leans against the rail. XXVII. Murdered Gretchen, watching ever With her love-glance pure and sweet. As she looked by Guadalquivir, When she fell dead at my feet. 10 THE MATADOR. XXVIII. Ever near me in my sleeping, Ever by me day and night ; Only for a moment keeping From me in the heat of fight. XXIX. Gretchen ! Gretchen ! ! She is bending O'er me, with her balmy breath. All-forgiving, condescending, Mine, still mine in life and death. XXX. Golden tresses, softly streaming. Blue eyes shining through bright tears. Is it death ? Or am I dreaming Back a dream of vanished years ? XXXI. Golden ! How they seem to darken, And the blue eyes grow to brown ; While her moans, as now I hearken, Are not in the voice long known. THE MATADOR. ii XXXII. Yet a face I have had closer In my waking and my sleep. Ah ! the fair maid, shall I lose her ? Why, oh, Father, does she weep ? XXXIII. Wife, ah ! it seems growing denser. Are we kneeling side by side While the church-boys swing the censer ? Her I loved No ! not my bride. XXXIV. Father, we were never married. She was slain before that came. Damned fool, had I but tarried ! 'Twas my fault, she had no blame. XXXV. Gretchen ! what is that beside you ? Is't a baby ? Mine or his ? Mine ? Ah, no ! Whate'er betide you, I had not that share of bliss. THE MATADOR. XXXVI. What is that you two are saying ? I am raving ? No ! 'tis truth. Dying ? Yes, while you are praying Pray for one who died in youth. XXXVII. For what seemed this hfe without her, She who made God's sun to shine ? Madman that I was to doubt her : Full as well doubt Christ divine. ^ ^ % ^ ^ XXXVIII. Bend down closer, holy Father, Let me kiss His cross, and rest. Bring my wife, and bid her gather My poor child close to her breast. XXXIX. Ah, she brought me faith and beauty, And I gave her what I had ; I have tried to do my duty, I am not all vile and bad. THE MATADOR. 13 XL. One last kiss, and one last blessing, One last prayer, then save your breath. I have finished my confessing : Pardon grant, I fear not Death. XLI. Bring her nearer. All my sorrow Is to think of you to-day, And what you will be to-morrow Weeping o'er my dead, cold clay. XLI I. Take this blood-drenched sash, and fold it Round our little one, be brave, When I am not there to hold it, Bring it sometimes to my grave. XLIIL Hush your moans : I feel Death's shiver. Dig my grave close to the brink Of the broad, clear Guadalquivir, I will lie, and hark, and think. 14 THE MATADOR. XLIV. It is rolling to Cordova, Past the Gardens on to Jaen ; From my love on on to love. Ah ! Donna, Gretchen : past all pain. ABU KLEA. ABU KLEA. Wait till I tell you what our lads have done Out in the Soudan. Try to picture it : A constant furnace-blast, a flaming sun, Tongues caked, and eyeballs bloody with the grit ; Fagged with the heavy labouring knee-deep Through fine sand, near red-hot, and worn with want of sleep. II. Say, have you ever tried, in dreams, to climb A steep, rough mountain with some doom behind, Running a race with death the bet and time Helping the hunters ; with tired knees and mind All on the strain, with nerves a-rack, and brain Near at the bursting, and heart bulged with utter pain ? 2 i8 ABU KLEA. III. If what you took to be the sunset grew A peak, not half way up, and in the chase, Where you expected succour, there stood two For every one behind, and held the place Against your life, not sanctuary, then You may in part begin to comprehend these men. IV. Those mighty sons of heroes on that plain, Dreaming of rest after the day's hard march ; Their souls aweary with fatigue and pain. Their hearts hard-tensioned, and with throats a-parch. Dreaming of sleep and wells of water clear, The only thought which served that desert march to cheer. V. Checked in the moment of their worst fatigue With the appalling tidings of the foe In force, by rumour rendered ten-fold big. Holding their place of shelter this to know. That they must fast another night, and watch Against surprise. We have not much like this to match. ABU KLEA. 19 VI. The Light Brigade ! yes, but they went in fresh, Not worn to death hke these brave boys ; just feel How easy 'tis to rush with buoyant flesh Into the charge with steel to ring on steel ; How diff'rent to resist with flesh relaxed, While nature calls a halt, and should no more be taxed. VII. How they have done it, with a loss of some, Our best and bravest, but they did it well ; From older wars dead heroes here may come, And revel in that rain of shot and shell. Ten thousand Arabs launched against a square Of fifteen hundred, not a craven spirit there. VIII. All through the night, beneath that crescent horn And those same wondrous stars, below whose light Great crowds have passed, and from dead nations torn Lost liberty, ah ! many a bloody sight Have those same stars looked down upon serene. As they looked down that night in that far desert scene. 20 ABU KLEA. IX. With now and then a shot, and here and there A spirit gone from out the ranks close-knit, But wakeful all until daylight laid bare Those hard-edged, dark, low hills, now copper-lit, Over a small eternity of sand. Rich ochre-tinted, round that isolated band. X. Up to the battle, be their numbers ten Or twenty thousand. Forward, though men fall Each moment, ghastly gaps filled up with men Who march with slow and steady pace, though all Can feel it coming, feel the heavy shot Blatter from dense clouds mixing with the sun- beams hot. XI. Forward, and clouds grow thicker ; they agree That army must be full ten thousand strong, Rushing with turbans ; foaming like a sea Uplifted 'gainst a little rock, a throng Of brave fanatics with their fierce war cries, Borne o'er the sounds of shot, thirsting for Paradise. ABU KLEA. 2\ XII They rush past walls of flame, which constant mow Down hundreds, but fresh hundreds those replace ; None think of flight, each dies a dauntless foe, While smoking guns blot out the white sun's face, Volley o'er steadfast volley, streams of blood, And crashing thunders ; with the sand now purple mud. XIII. Blood in the air and brains, men fired and bled, With wounds unheeded, bullet holes unfelt Or noticed, save those killed outright, the dead Were utilised by that front rank who knelt On yielding limbs, a raised-up barricade Of death, all lately life, their short-sight markings made. XIV. Blood in their brains, yet nothing like dismay, And little of disorder, as they bore That fearsome charge, the onslaught of the day, Breaking of that great square so firm before, A mighty army crushing in a few. Who grappled fast, as only British soldiers do. 22 ABU KLEA. XV. Bayonet and spear, steel when lead had failed ; Tired fists, no longer tired, gripped hard at throats. While shell and shot and bullets constant hailed, As wounded camels shrieked their shrill high notes ; The greatest went in that smoke-veiled melee, English and Arab, brothers all in bravery. XVI. And this is what our gallant lads have done. Raised o'er the Pyramids a monument To British pluck. We name no woman's son Before another's in that army sent To free the hero we had watched with gloom For months, all patient in his prison of Khartoum. XVII. The weakest there has now become a peer Of chivalry, the strongest is no more : We sit at home and feel for them the fear They feel not for themselves ; each drop of gore Is gilt with thrilling pride to us who call Those gallant fifteen hundred heroes, brothers all. ISANDULA. ISANDULA. ** Fix bayonets, and die, as English soldiers do, Shoulder to shoulder, the enemy around ; Shut out hope of mercy, but keep your colours true, Raise a pile of death, as evidence when found." This the terse, stern order that last rang in their ears : Blind with the fury, the fear, or what you will. Dazed all they glared in front, yelled their English cheers ; Saw heaving waves of night ; knew they had to kill; Knew that their hour was come, knew that they had to fall, Ground close their chatt'ring teeth, took each vacant place ; 26 ISANDULA. Thirty to one the foe, each rushed a giant tall, Swinging his grisly corpse frightful shields to face ! But still they faced it, raw young schoolboys mostly there. Stabbed when the bullets failed, took as well as gave; Sold every drop of blood, piled up in the air Sable monuments around each English grave. Devils desecrate the slain, raging through the camp, Black foe and white mingle in the trampled mud ; Down sinks a sickened sun ; Night lifts up her pale lamp. Trailing silver threads 'tween mounds of dead in blood : Lighting up two dauntless boys who had glory gained Coghill and Melville the colours twisted round, Who rode through hell that day bearing them only stained With their red hearts' blood, now sinking in the ground. ISANDULA. zy So were they all met next morn when their com- rades came : No tongues to spoil it, but marks of deeds that told How they had worked that day. Oh, deathless tongue of fame ! Temper our grief with pride for those heroes bold. Honour Isandula ! bury their bodies there ; Thanks, Chard and Bromhead, who held Rorke's Drift so long ; Give as a winding-sheet the colours to that pair, Tell posterity their mighty acts in song. 'tfw THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. Chi-KUM-KUM was his name, a chan Of the celestial land ; but he Had drifted to the South, and ran A life considerably free, With folks who drank not much of tea. II. Beach-combers were amongst the friends He cultivated, and, alas ! He never thought to make amends, But let his sins as easy pass As thistles to a hungry ass. 32 THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. III. He cursed, in English, horrid words, Drank rum and gin like any sot ; Blasphemed as natur'ly as birds Do pipe their sweetest sylvan note, For he'd a sweet and bird-like throat. IV. Ah me ! that man could thus forsake His native tea, and poppy bliss. The beds of rice, the bamboo brake, And long-eyed Chinese maiden's kiss. For such a wicked life as this. V. He scoured the main in many a craft As cook, as diver, and decoy ; And when a native fell he laughed A glccsome laugh ; it was his joy To cram the hold with coloured boy. THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. 33 VI. One day in Cooktown, as he loafed Close to the wharf, a stranger said, In accents singularly soft, " You've worked, I think, the South Sea trade, And are not easily afraid ? " VII. " Afraid ? " quoth Kum-kum, with a sneer And string of horrid words. " You bet, ,, God and the devil would not skeer This lilly chile. Give me a w^et, For I will not disgrace your set." VIII. This stranger, he was tall and dark Most gentlemanly in his build, And as he pointed to a bark. Half yacht, half cutter, said, " She's filled. With grub and liquor, and has tilled 3 34 - THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. IX. " Through many a furrow bright and blue In search of sport : I want a cook, And from your shape I think you'll do To tell no tales, or play the rook, To contradict me in my book." He took Kum-kum aboard, and brewed A jorum stiff and strong enough To make the strongest toper screwed ; But Kum-kum only grunted gruff, " That's mighty squeamish sort of stuff," XI. The stranger took more youthful gin. And mixed it with pure baby-rum. " That ought to make a nigger grin, It's warranted to kill at some Five hundred yards." " It suits Kum-kum. THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. 35 XII. Kum-kum, he very soon agreed To terms, as grog and grub were found Ad lib., and he would never need Of his good wage to spend a pound, Besides a crew of Malays sound, XIII. Whose predilections since their youth Had been to hack at naked necks. And never tell a single truth. Or let a magistrate them vex When speaking of their doubtful wrecks. XIV. They were all boys whom he could trust, Who could eat turtle thrice a week. And make a case of brandy burst Before they raised a single shriek. Or ceased to turn the other cheek. 36 THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. XV. He'd known them take of bottles six, Before their darkey blood was stirred, Rough, new-made rum, and never mix A drop of cocoa-milk to curd ; Then clear a village at the word. XVI. He knew them, with their bloodshot eyes, And felt they'd have a jolly time. For he that gentle boss could size. And knew, in spite his soap and slime. He'd wade neck-deep in gore and crime. XVII So tossing off his pannikin. He laughed and said, " Where'er you're bound, I'll sign your books, and be your man. With grub and lie. like this all found, I'll suit you, boss, down to the ground." THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. ^ XVIII. They sailed from Cooktown that same night, And got beyond the coral reef, Beneath the full moon's silent light, Leaving the store-man wild with grief, Calling their boss " a low-bred thief." XIX. They sailed away to islands fair, And shipped their cargo free and bright. Giving the sharks a lavish share. Leaving behind the widows, dight With ashes, wailing through the night. XX. That tall, dark skipper was a chap Who never swore, and seldom spoke Above his voice, nor cared a rap For liquor or tobacco smoke. Yet wore a look that seemed to mock 38 THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. XXI. These weaknesses in other men. His coal-black eyes were dull and dim, Unless in fight, and he would pen In his log-book a pious hymn Instead of drinking, and he'd trim XXII. His coal-black beard like any dude. And cut and clean his filbert nails, And never say a sentence rude ; But give his orders soft as snails A-crawling o'er the country rails. XXIII. But if a Malay boy there thought That he was soft 'cause of these ways, God help that Malay boy ! his lot Was bad, and short his merry days Before that sudden coal-black blaze. THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. 39 XXIV. Each night they drank themselves asleep On deck, the skipper dov/n below ; Unless they had some work to keep Them from their grog, he'd never slow Their 'lovvance, so that they could show XXV. No shaking when the moment came To blaze their barkers, take their hand ; He wanted tigers, cast no shame On any boy how much he'd land : His store was packed with every brand. XXVI. He vv^as a curious kind of cove : He did not seem to care for loot, But had a pure, inherent love To wipe off natives, branch and root ; When that was done, he'd turn his foot 40 THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. ' XXVII. To pick up specimens, a bird, Or plant, or shell, were quite enough To keep him hours without a word. Like a museum in the rough His cabin looked with pickled stuff. XXVIII. You'd thought, to see him sitting there Working, or scribbling verse or prose, He was a parson at his prayer. Thinking on other people's woes, As mild as milk in his repose. XXIX. But when the fight was on by Saul ! The way he made that cutlass sound. And fixed a billet for each ball From his good Colts, it was profound. And made even Kum-kum look around. THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. 41 . XXX. In fact, this Chinese exile saw All that he had gone through before Was childhood's simple pranks : an awe Crept through him at this depth of gore, And he began to wish for shore. xxxi. A most unlucky state of mind, With such a boss and such a crew, For he grew sluggish and unkind To that high-flavoured, lavish brew. And spoilt, at times, their favourite stew. XXXII. His yellow face grew thin and lank. His nose took on a purple bloom. And day by day he slowly sank Into a melancholic gloom. Which marked him for an early tomb. 42 THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. XXXIII. At last, one night, the captain came Upon him in his lonely state. Suspicion in those eyes of flame, And asked him, sternly, " what of late Had come to spoil a worthy mate ? " XXXIV. Kum-kum looked up with dull, dim gaze, And sighed, " You pass each former pal, I'm sick of all your pleasant ways You speak too mild, and wade too tall. I want to leave you, and that's all. XXXV. " I'm ta'en a-thinking too of late About Pekin, where I was got. To kill these niggers out of hate Seems fair, but for pure sport to pot Them wholesale no, I'd rather not. THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. 43 XXXVI. " At nights when I've been knocking round Your cabin, heard you spout your lays, I've felt a kind o' sorter bound To try and mend my wicked ways, Be good for my remaining days." XXXVII. The skipper's burning eyes grew mild When he heard this, and then he purred. Soft as a cat, " Come down, my child. And hear some more : you have me stirred With pathos for my written word." XXXVIII. They went below, the captain brewed A jorum hot for poor Kum-kum ; He next read words that sounded good. And made him drink that sweetened rum- 'Twas mighty sweet and strong that rum. 44 THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. XXXIX. Both wept o'er sentiments so pure, And vowed they'd lead a better life, And swore their friendship would endure Through life and death, through peace and sti ifc ; Swore fealty both by hand and knife. XL. The captain brewed another glass. And Kum-kum drained it to the dregs ; And then they pledged each absent lass, And had a few more sweetened pegs. Until poor Kum-kum lost his legs. XLI. Then rose the skipper from his seat, And watched, with laughing eyes, his cook, All squirming, snake-like, at his feet : " A pound of arsenic has it took To bring- this Chinaman to book." THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. 45 XLII. He laughed a gleesome laugh each fling Poor Kum-kum gave before he paid His checks, and his sad ghost took wing. Then in a jar he quickly made That Chinaman to marmalade. XLIII. He soaked the corpse with good white wine, And said, " He's worth preserving so. A heathen whom the Muse divine Could touch must not be sent below : I'll carry him where'er I go." XLIV. Time passed, these rovers wandered far Through many a conflict, many a gale ; And with them sailed that well-packed jar Of Chinese pickle, shrunk and pale. At length they northward set each sail. 46 THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. XLV. A tempest rose, and drove them on Past coral reefs and inky seas, Until New Guinea's, coast-line shone With cocoa-nut and Mammy trees : A pleasing view which did not please. XLVI. Their rudder gone, they drove ashore, With yeasty fury in their wake, Full on the rocks, where stood a score Of natives, all prepared to take From each wrecked Malay boy a steak. XLVII. The captain was the first to land. And, finding that his tools were gone. He tried palaver on that band. Who listened to each dulcet tone, As if they had been cut from stone. THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. 47 XLVIII. And then they trussed them up like geese At Christmas time ; next made a fire, And roasted them in their own grease, While listening calm to curses dire Before each victim did expire. XLIX. The captain, being soft and clean. Was cooked and eaten first ; the rest Were cut when done, and shared between The women, kids, and casual guest Who smelt the roast and to it pressed. All day they sat and ate roast beef, And smacked their lips, and cleaned the bones ; W^hile that poor cutter came to grief, And slowly broke upon the stones. With crunching sides and dreary groans. THE LEGEND OF KUM-KUM. LI. Next day the storm went down, and then The skipper's samples came to light. The natives, once more hungry men, Grew joyful at the cheery sight Of Kum-kum in his jar, air-tight. LII. They tested him just as he stood, And found him tender, sweet, and strong ; Then shared him round, pronounced him good, Sucked up the wine which kept him long, And danced awhile with laugh and song. LIII. Kum-kum, he had done many a crime Of nameless horror while in life. But never in his palmiest prime Had he played havoc half so rife As now he played on man and wife. lipincilPlli^fppif^piiinuii .u By day and candle-light. Seraphic languor in her air. She gazeth downward, meek and mild. My soul, uplifted, swims in prayer To Mary and her Child. Oh ! amber eyes, cast down and filled With chastened rays of pensive love, I look, and all my soul is thrilled With fervour from above. Oh ! sun-kissed tresses round that brow. Within the circling disc of gold, I pledge thee with a holy vow, A love all grief-controlled. I count the moments spent afar From thy dear image, gracious Dame. Ah, Virgin pure ! ah, ocean Star ! Distilling holy flame. THE SERVANT OF GOD. 65 To be thy servant night and day, I feel for earth no more desire ; I consecrate my soul and clay To this all-living fire. OUTSIDE THE CHAPEL. ANNO DOMINI I424. (Father Simon, alone^ I. The moonbeams strike against the wall, They lie cross-patched upon the floor ; I look like leper when they fall Upon me by the door. Here, waiting on the midnight bell. Outside the Norman chapel door. The foul fiend tempts my heart to dwell On things to me no more. I see my Lady in her bower, I watch her by the garden wall ; She thinks that I have gone an hour ; The moon-rays on her fall. 5 66 THE SERVANT OF GOD. She looks and thinks of me I know, For I was blessed with virgin love, I watch that moon-lit face of snow, Like angel face above. I breathe my tender serenade, She starts, and knows that I am near, And swiftly draws the blind, sweet maid, With shy, discovered fear. I meet my comrades, arm-in-arm ; Thou, Brother Francis, wert among Those merry boys, who used to charm The night with wine and song. Oh, jovial nights, ah, merry days, Ah, dp.ys and nights of deadly sin. Before I was redeemed by grace. Or God's love entered in. The midnight bell peals deep and clear, The devil flies before that sound ; I kneel to Mary, and revere God's consecrated ground. THE SERVANT OF GOD. 67 IN THE CONFESSIONAL. (Father Francis and Brother Simon.) Hold, Father Francis, I can tell To thee all phases of my mind, For thou hast felt thy soul rebel With wishes undefined. We may forge gyves upon the limbs, And bind the body with a chain ; But even within the sweetest hymns There wail wild wails of pain. My thoughts are vile, my thoughts are vile. I find no hope in my resolve ; The questions which I ask defile E'er I dare sin absolve. I fled the world and all its snares To tread the path my Saviour trod. And yet despite my tears and prayers I am no nearer God. 68 THE SERVANT OF GOD. I gave up Love for Love divine, I fled the wassail and the brawl, And yet Love haunts me at the shrine Of Mary : oh ! I fall. I gaze upon that painted dame, She bears the shape of her I left. My prayers are blended with the flame Of earth-hopes from me reft. I fled the world and all its wiles To seek the rest I cannot find ; The devil smiles, from Mary's smiles, To devils in my mind. Yea, penitents come in, and tell Me sins my own ^I echo all. My soul gets fouler stains of hell In this confessional. Was Lord Christ tempted like to me Did He put questions as I must To her charged with adultery When He wrote on the dust ? TH^ SERVANT OF GOD. 69 Or did He not in pity pass Her sins with one forgiving word ? To probe the sin-stained soul, alas ! Slays like a foeman's sword. I fly the world, the world pursues, I cannot leave the world behind ; I am all bruised as I bruise Each sin-polluted mind. WITHIN THE CELL. AFTER MASS. (Brother Simon alone?) I. Absolved and clean, I meditate On Him who died that I might rise By penance to His high estate Earth's guiltless Sacrifice. His body melts upon my tongue. His purple blood runs in my veins. O Lamb of God, for ever young, Who bore all human stains ! 70 THE SERVANT OF GOD. What am I, that I should shrink back From evil contact, if He bore His cross along that thorny track, Sad heart which patient bore ? Dwelling with sin, while yet all sin Glanced off like water-drops from oil ; For never taint could enter in That mind, or round it coil. I cannot speak of sin, and keep My soul all chaste in pure content, For serpents come and sting my sleep With dreams of vile intent. II. Jesus ! melting in my throat. Thy flesh and blood is now my own, All vile, all lustful, as I gloat On thoughts to Thee unknown, Unless Thou knew'st that Magdalene Was passing frail and passing fair, Or felt a retrospect obscene Waft o'er Thee like hot air ; THE SERVANT OF GOD. 71 When those long coils of silken mesh Laved o'er Thy tear-washed quiv'ring feet, And naked flesh touched naked flesh, Those lips so soft and sweet. Ah ! if no pulse of passion stole From those up-heaving breasts of grief, Which touched Thy feet and touched Thy soul, Making Thee feel like thief ; And when she whispered in those ears, Though all divine, her evil life. If Thou felt not the guilty fears Wake in Thy heart fierce strife ; And if Thou didst not straightway see The dainty harlot lying bare, And in Thy heart divine a glee Which triumphed over pray'r ; Then have I sinned the deadly sin, For I have ta'en Thy flesh divine, And blent it with foul thoughts within This damned heart of mine. ^^ THE SERVANT OF GOD. III. My back is seared with deadly strokes, My flesh grows weaker day by day. By fastings yet the devil mocks At my self-tortured clay. I fled the world, but here I know That things are done by those ordained, Which make the blood heart-backward flow At God's sons so vile stained. I walk the aisles with downcast eyes, And strive my hardest not to see ; And yet I know and sympathise With red iniquity, I strive to shut my ears to all The whispers floating in the night ; And yet I know and feel the thrall By tremblings of delight. I have not sinned in deed, and yet I feel my vows no longer clean ; My days are passed in mixed regret And retrospects obscene. THE SERVANT OF GOD. ^l IV. Last eve I heard an evil jest Told by a Brother Monk, which clung, Like mud to cloth, within my breast. All night a spirit sung Within my brain the words to tune ; My forced night words broke on the air, And fouler jests joined in, and soon Crushed out that feeble pray'r. And yesterday a woman came, Whom I had deemed so pure and high, And whispered to my soul her shame With lips, like mine, all dry. " She loved me " and even as she spoke The hell-bred words, my evil mind Leapt up responsive, and awoke Desires I sought to bind. I probed that weak heart to the core, The woman shivered at my touch : I asked base questions, she told more In answer to my much. 74 THE SERVANT OF GOD. I loved her with a guihy glance, I knew that she was weak to me. She lay within my hand, should chance Grant opportunity. And then I spoke the word of peace, With arid tongue and husky tone ; I gave the sinner her release, But made her chains my own. Absolved, yet, ah ! no longer white. These thoughts appal. Thy flesh divine Hath now become as black as night Since It hath blent with mine. IN THE CELL. MIDNIGHT ANNO DOMINI I436. (Father Simon dying ; Father Francis sitting beside hiin.) I. Hush ! hush ! old friend, it was ordained ; I may find perfect peace on high. The world is passed, and I have gained An hour of grace to die. THE SERVANT OF GOD. 75 Wait they above that maid, my friends ? 'Tis kind to give me hope like this ; 'Tis sweet to dream that mis'ry ends With life, that death means bliss. But is it true ? I know my love Died broken-hearted, and for me ; But if she may be mine above, Why not while here ? I see A golden life all wasted here, Two lives which might have blent as one, Two hearts all crucified, and near Me Mary's murdered Son. God gave us life and warm desires, We tried to crush them, all in vain ; For fastings cannot quench the fires God lights, or loose earth's chain. If I had died in bustling brawl, I had not been by doubts assailed ; But proving much hath lost me all, I strove for heaven, and failed. 76 THE SERVANT OF GOD. II. Hush ! hush ! old friend, I will confess No more to man ; I give my sins To God, the less you hear, the less Of virtue Satan wins. Thoughts spread like water rings revealed. I never shrived the penitent But all their sins, within me sealed, Made sins of worse intent. Thou know'st my life before we came 'Twas ever careless, free and frank ; I never blushed at thought of shame, I ne'er from danger shrank. Ah, we were nearer heaven those days. Thrice happy days of love and song, When we rose up with hearts of grace, And bodies plump and strong. III. It was a lie, a snare of hell Which struck us blind and turned our brains. Making us seek God in the cell, By fastings, tears, and pains. THE SERVANT OF GOD. ^'j We have destroyed our gifts, and sold Our souls to hell with whip and nail, Cutting the flesh, even as of old Did those false priests of Baal. I loved my kind, to woman knelt As something to revere, before I put on priestly frock, and spelt The priestly craft and lore. IV. God ! God ! have I one comfort left ? I know not what or whose Thou art, For all of faith in man is reft From my accursed heart. I have destroyed my life, and now On Death's black waves all aimless toss'd Life's joys I bartered for a vow, And this I count as lost. I made an air-globe earth, and called It Heaven, and for it gave up earth ; And now I toss with soul appalled At horrors getting birth. 78 THE SERVANT OF GOD. V. Friend, friend, where art thou ? Light hath pass'd, I flung from me light, love and joy ; Now am I from all prospect cast, Like tempest-beaten buoy. Death death, all hope, all future dead ! Is there a Heaven ? I cannot tell. Earth was the heaven from which I fled, I made my heaven a hell. VI. Not for this life. What else is left ? Jesus ! didst Thou suffer all To be at last, like me, bereft, To wake when past recall ? Not all. I have not lost without Some gain, the gain of sacrifice. Sweet, sweet despite this fading doubt, This breaking up of lies. 1 have been tempted past my strength, But still can die my maid's pure knight, So that if we do meet at length, She'll know I kept my plight. THE SERVANT OF GOD. 79 And if we do not meet, 'tis still A sweetness to be true and pure, A holy joy to slay the will, And God-like to endure. True to our vows of earth, and true To all we vowed at Mary's shrine, I fold my hands, and wait my due Content, without a sign. VII. Not for this life, and, if there be No other life to sanctify. This life is sanctified to me, Despite this spacious lie. Thy hand, old friend ; the day grows dark I had forgotten it was night. I step on board a fragile bark. Yet think I see a light. Is it the dawning of the day A-tween my prison-bars ? or is't A light unseen to eyes of clay, P'rom skies where souls are blest ? 8o THE SERVANT OF GOD. The shadows creep like doubts and fears Aback before that light all grey, And rolling up, are wasted years. My heart beats young and gay. Old friend young friend, with black gown doffed, A snowy gown is thine instead, And all about thee and aloft Are faces long since dead. They come on rosy clouds all bright. There is no grief they all seem gay. Was last night not a winter's night ? This is a summer's day. [Father Simon dies. THE DEATH OF CLEOPATRA. THE DEATH OF CLEOPATRA. I. What is the Past ? The sitting down a second, And letting go the grip we have of care. Then mem'ry wafts us, e'er we have it reckoned, Away to scenes which Time makes soft and fair. II. Our dreams are thoughts which steal unfelt, v/hile waking, Into the passive mind and find a lair ; Until in sleep the soul starts up, and breaking Its prison-bars, bids each guest come and share. III. The yellow moon rose from the east, and shining Between the tendrils round our window frame, Made a sweet picture, all of God's designing, Painted on crold and hatched with silver flame. 84 THE DEATH OF CLEOPATRA. IV. Fell on two sweet eyes closed in balmy slumber, As through rose-tinted portals stole sweet breath ; I clasped the yielding shape, each throb to number And feel 'twas sleep, and not her sister, Death, V. - Then on the moonlight, falling soft and mellow, I gazed w^ith closing eyes, till senses slipped Away from thoughts of my o\\n faultless fellow, To her no lovelier whom dead kings had lipped. VI. The same light fell, but not as to me broken. Fringes of palm.SBi fan-like papyrus leaves Rose from the waters, swung beside the token Of man's industry, vv^here the spider weaves. VII. Upon the polished granite pavement lying The queen of many masters, and her last Cold Death, and with the brooding daylight dying, A crimson pall upon a black cloud cast. THE DEATH OF CLEOPATRA. 85 VIII. A broken drift, like wounded demons crushing Above each other, with fierce battle spent, And ruby streams, like thousand hearts out-gushing Across the yellow of that twilight rent. IX. Vast temples, crumbling tokens of a nation Now passed within the vault-like tomb of Time. A mighty course decayed beyond salvation, The spent refinements of dark lust and crime. X. Draped as they ought in gloom, the shadows slimy, Where through the dripping palms the Nile appears. Pool of the shambles, with its sides all grimy, With marble fountains spurting bloody tears. XI. And in my sad dream stole a dirge of wailing, Through scented groves and dusky corridors. Low, like the night-winds from the river sailing O'er stricken slaves and royal paramours : 86 THE DEATH OF CLEOPATRA. XII. " Light up the h'fe-quenched Hmbs, Heartless queen of night ; Lust hath fierce sobbed thy hymns, Slaves have owned thy might. XIII. " Light, with thy cold, dead beams, Love in its fatal sway ; Calm are the unknown dreams, Passion spent and grey. XIV. " Light up the arms and breast White as drifted snow, Clasping all they loved best In life's last mad glow. XV. " Light up the faultless face. Hide the heart within. Old,- yet so filled with grace. Not too old to sin. THE DEATH OF CLEOPATRA. 87 XVI. " Light up the proud, proud clay, Proud, alas ! for pride That could the heart betray, Ice cold at her side. XVII. " Light up the Hps still red, ' Hide the heart within ; This is her last love-bed, Grown too old to win. XVIII. " Light up the matchless pair, Hide the hearts within Hearts, false beyond compare. Death hath cancelled sin." XIX. What is the lamp without its flame, though costly ? The palace with its mirth and music dead ? Both sepulchres, which beauty makes more ghostly. And so the form, with its fair spirit fled. 88 THE DEATH OF CLEOPATRA. XX. Life is a spark, too fine for human testing, It crouches in the centre of a sigh ; It lights up hell, illumines heaven, no resting, It is not born, how can it ever die ? XXI. A spark from some bright globe, eternal burning, Which kindles in a brittle piece of clay, And makes it lovely, till, its hour returning. It leaves this lamp inanimate and grey. XXII. Love is the oil which feeds and burns it faster. For whether it doth grovel or aspire, A' It neither spares the delf^r alabaster, But breaks them both in its devouring fire. FESTA SACARUM FESTA SACARUM. This world is ever young to youth, And manhood youth from wine may borrow. I have a bas-reHef, its story Is, dancing nymphs with sinners hoary, Satyrs and grapes, and mirth, forsooth The whole is there, excepting sorrow. II Old age and youth are sculptured there ; Young women nude and eye-entrancing ; Goat-feeted satyrs, ever filling The golden cups upheld, and spilling Grape-juice, blood-red, o'er white limbs bare, While locks are tangled with the dancing. 92 FESTA SAC ARUM. III. Wild laughter rings through summer skies, Sacarum festa they are keeping ; The scarlet poppies by them springing Shake with the dancing and the singing. Summer to-day, and summer flies ; Laughter to-day, but when the weeping ? IV. Those laughing nymphs are always young, They disappear when youth is over, And other nymphs, with merry faces, Step o'er the withered to their places ; The dance is danced, the song is sung By bloated sage and wanton lover. Two thousand years ago the same As we to-day in lane or city Sacarum festa bosoms firing. Not woke to feelings, yet aspiring To worship at the shrine of shame. Those merry nymphs who know not pity. FESTA SAC A RUM. 93 VI. Fair maidens, shrinking out of sight, Come to the dance with garments clinging ; Shy at the first, with blushes burning, But resolute there's no returning. Soon stand they naked in the light, And join the loudest in the singing. VII. And then they whirl about the maze, Too quick for much of supervision ; Grow lovelier each moment passing. Grow ripe and full within the massing, Then slowly fade before the gaze, And pass from sight and recognition. VIII. But old Silenus and his crew Dance on drink on the same as ever ; Cover the corses with red roses. All putrid wafts the nostril loses In rich perfume, in purple dew. And poison draughts through bosoms quiver. 94 FESTA SAC A RUM. IX. They dance on flowers, on hearts, on heads, Pink feet quash into leprous sorrow, Lithe limbs are soused with blood, the satin And dimpled arms on dead limbs batten. Adders lie coiled within love-beds. Laughter to-day and death to-morrow. LIBERTY. LIBERTY. I. Death, the liberator, Comes to wish her joy ; In his httle coffin Lies her infant toy, II. Death, the Hberator, Breaks her brittle chain, Bids her don her mantle For the streets again. III. 'Tis a wretched garret For this gay attire, With its broken table And the cinder fire. """Ml! LIBERTY. IV. With its filth and tokens Of the life of riot, And this hopeless mother Crying there so quiet. With the hag who comforts, As she sips her drink From the broken tea-cup. Bleary eyes that blink. VI. With the friend who pauses O'er the braid of hair, Touching cheeks chalk-powdered For the midnight glare. VII. With that tarnished fragment, Doubling tress of gold. False as are the roses Yet in paper fold. mB^j^T^ jy fmst f.m^i Mi^f9.Mii fxi^'^ LIBERTY. 99 VIII. With the furs and laces Draggling from the chair, And those dimpled shoulders Scarred with kicks, and bare. IX. What a strange weird medley, Fit alone for Death, That lean, whimp'ring pander, With her brandy breath. X. And the hopeless mother. Who may weep awhile. But before the midnight Must dress up to smile. XI. With her face now hidden In her shortgowned sleeve, When she shrieks with laughter, Who will this believe ? LIBERTY. XII. See her ebon tresses Trailing from the coil> And she quietly crying, Crying all the while. INNOCENCE. INNOCENCE. The rushlight leapt up with a flare, Then it dropped to the foot of its bottle, And, flinging its spirit to air In a fume of rank reek. That floats upward to seek A fresh spot in the midst of the mottle II. It showed an old four-posted bed. From the night sales and brokers imported ; Two soap-boxes raised up instead Of a table, and here A cracked jug for the beer. And a chair on three legs, wall supported. 104 INNOCENCE. III. It showed ancient sin by the grate, Huddled down, with her pipe, on the fender, The fire near as dull as her hate, Which outlived all the rest Of the snakes in her breast, And helped in their passage to rend her. IV. The ashes are all that remain In the pipe, in the grate, in the woman The ashes and some of the pain That fight down the frost With the heat not yet lost. Though they've lost all once glowing and human. V. It showed up her dirt, and her hair. Rusty-grey, falling lank on her shoulder, Her skin, where the rents leave it bare, Like her face, seamed and old, Pinched with want, blue with cold, Like a mummy amongst all its moulder. INNOCENCE. 105 VI. It lit up the child at her feet, And shone o'er the ringlets like metal ; The features, though impish, are sweet, Resting there on the bags. Gleaming out of her rags Like a half-withered white rose's petal. VII. She slumbers, this infant of shame. Her thin puckered lips almost smiling ; Caught, just^as she left off her game. The ham-shank lying by, And the tears not quite dry, Glist'ning dew-like through smears of defiling. VIII. Her clenched dirty fist o'er her head. And her murmurs, the filth of the gutters, By her 'tis a prayer that is said ; The best words she hath known. All the truth is her own, Angel-tears purify what she utters. io6 INNOCENCE. IX. The night winds are hushed, for the birth Of the day not yet come which is coming ; This waiting hangs over the earth, A faint pallor of ash Steals beyond the black sash, And the feelings are growing benumbing. X. A thud 'gainst the side of the stair, Four staggering feet on the landing, A smash and a gust of cold air, While the hush of the morn Is all ruthlessly torn By the partners in vice who are standing. XI. Ancient sin never moves from her seat, And the stars outside steadfastly glisten ; They pour out more drink, and repeat All the pranks of the night With coarse jests that delight. While poor Innocence wakes up to listen. LOVE : AN IDYL. LOVE: AN IDYL. I. She is in her dirty short gown, He in ragged corduroys Idle, vicious waifs about town, Sorrows real phantom joys. n. She sells fish when not too lazy, Relics rest upon her still ; In his mind some notions hazy Lurk about his work and will. III. She can boast a kind of beauty, Wild and tawny, with a creed Born of love, and fear, and duty ; He hath nothing saving greed. LOVE: AN IDYL. IV. She is faithful in her treason : That which makes the jealous hate, Never touched them, for the reason Custom made legitimate. V. Virtue, as we comprehend it, Was not virtue in their sight ; What she won was his to spend it ; It is training makes a right. VI. Where she went, or how she gained it. Never troubled either heart, If no oAh&x fancy stained it, While she acted up her part. VII. Kicks and curses were the token Of the union they had made ; Words endearing were not spoken Kisses are her stock-in-trade. LOVE: AN IDYL. \\ VIII. What to her the honeyed speeches ? Men are fools to be betrayed ; She is of the tribe of leeches, Honest in her style, if paid. IX. Once a week she takes her chiding From the priest, and at the shrine Kneels to Mary, nothing hiding, Pardon gets, and flesh divine. X. Gleans some comfort from this duty, Love grows softer for the day ; Feelings vaguely dawn, that beauty Was not given to pawn away. XI. Love is purged from filthy lucre, Weaves new meshes in her heart ; Thoughts to raise the beast who took her To another, manlier part. 112 LOVE: AN IDYL. XII. Never once a thought to leave him ; Dog-love is the love she knows. Beast ah ! worse, she could not grieve him With a shadow of her woes. XIII. Christ, O Christ ! whom saints are greeting, As You hang limp on Your cross, Priest and people all repeating. Know they not the gain or loss ? XIV. Christ ! O Christ of earth, or fiction, Christ of all, or Christ of none. What has been Your predilection, Wealth or woe, sad Mary's Son ? XV. Christ ! O Christ of sight or hearing. As You were, or as You are, With decorum softly sneering, Or set high decorum's star ? LOVE: AN IDYL. J13 XVI. Christ, my Christ, the Friend of sinners. With Your rags, and want, and woe, You were never with the winners. Ever \Nith the vile and low. XVII. Absolution, 'tis a fable : They must wed, or she must part ; But she knows she is not able. And her beast hath not the heart. XVIII. So she loves, and lives, and mingles Sin and prayer and wishes, through Ice-cold crime, fond yearnings, tingles. Of a woman fresh and true. XIX. She is in her dirty short gown. He in ragged corduroys : Idle, vicious waifs about town. Sorrows real phantom joys. OCTOBER: A MONOLOGUE. OCTOBER: A MONOLOGUE. I. Sough ! the blasts of chill October, When red leaves are dripping down In the country. Drunk or sober Women, hungry, hawk the town ; Money and men, through close and pen. Drink, a thousand cares to drown. II. What would you have, my pure white choker ? Give me a copper or two for luck. Tracts to a woman like me, you mocker ! Think you a tract will do for chuck ? Have you a name for a curse, a shame ? What would you do with a pack of muck ? ii8 OCTOBER: A MONOLOGUE. _ III I have been honest have you ? and tender ? I am a woman, cast out, and more : I am a wrecker, a snare, a sender Down to perdition, a rocky shore. Wages of hell for the wares I sell : What is the son that your mother bore ? IV. Had I a quarter your yearly wages I could be honest with perfect ease, 7\rgue this question with well-fed sages, Wonder at sin o'er my wine and cheese ; Easy to pray for our bread to-day. Easy to pardon on terms like these. V. I am a nuisance, a blight to banish Out of the living and into the grave : Give me a stipend, and I will vanish Not out of taste do I tread the pave ; Women must eat, though they walk the street- Can you suggest a way to save ? OCTOBER: A MONOtOGUE. 119 VI. Give us the work, with the wage sufficient ; Give us a home where we may feel free : Not with the hard matron-eye omniscient, Watching for ever our faults to see. How can you think we could give up drink All of a moment. Could you ? less me. VII. Give us the chance, with the time to do it ; Give us a tether to come and go : Cover us up when we fall and rue it ; Pity should cover both sin and woe. Give us more grace the more we are base. Then may we hope to get out of the slough. 5 v^-Tw^4 % f* f.yip, THE TOY. THE TOY. I AM but as a pebble in his way, Pretty to look at for a little while, To be uplifted and tossed up in play. To fondle with an absent trifling smile. But what is he to me a god, a ray ? I lie within his reach and feel now vile He has my all, I cannot say him nay : I live upon his bounty and his smile. My heart lies bleeding while I seem all gay, I laugh because he likes it ; but the guile Leaves me with morn : I weep and shrink from day, For now my light comes only from his smile. 124 THE TOY. I wonder much if now stone dead I lay, All snowy clad on that blue velvet pile, If he would look with eyes as far away, And fondle my dead face with that same smile ? THE LAMENT OF TINTORET. THE LAMENT OF TINTORET. I. It is not wrath for selfish wrong which moves My soul with this great agony. The buffet on the stiffened corpse but proves It past revenge, downflung and left to lie : But to the mindless mole now buffeting, My soul is drawn with human sympathy. Fain would I wake them, as, with broken wing, I moan the sorrow that I cannot sing. And vainly beat the ground before I die. 11. Oh, soul of Truth, down-trodden in the mire ! Oh, soul of Life, crushed in that iron cage ! Oh, light, oh, liberty and vain desire ! How hath thy Death been paid by sordid wage i2S THE LAMENT OF TINTORET. I rise, and with my yearning wishes fling Words incoherent, with impotent rage : Art-soul which beats the earth with broken wing ; Life-soul which moans when men would have thee sing; Truth-soul which men with falsehood now would gauge. III. Thou crucified and outraged soul of Christ, How have thy brows been torn by mocking spite ! Harlots, who made in loathsome dens a tryst, To shear the glory from this God of Light, Time-stains unto the sun-shafts do they bring, And call this darkness which they have devised " The light of Liberty," and softly sing While Liberty beats out her broken wing, And moans the death-dirge of that stricken night. IV. Harlots, who drape their sterile shapes in gold, Damaskened with the blanched blue and grey. Lying in shadows, with the bodies cold, Of victims, while sweet strings they tuneless play r^mm>^f9*'' (*< "r^F"*i^^r!