fsizi:;
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE COLLECTED POEMS 
 OF MAURICE BARING
 
 THE COLLECTED 
 
 : : POEMS OF : : 
 
 MAURICE BARING 
 
 LONDON : JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD 
 NEW YORK : JOHN LANE COMPANY MCMXl
 
 Plymouth: wm. pvfnt • ■• -^n, ltd,, r«iNT«»*
 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 SONNETS AND LYRICS 
 
 PACE 
 
 To H. B 3 
 
 I too have travelled in the unknown land 
 
 EXILE 4 
 
 They with the world would have you reconciled 
 
 " QUAND VOUS SEREZ BIEN VIEILLE " . . 5 
 
 When you are old, no man will start to hear 
 
 We drifted to each other like two birds .... 6 
 
 You walked into the temple of a soul .... 7 
 
 To ETHEL SMYTH 8 
 
 Your singing brings the rustle of the trees 
 
 You were the Queen of evening, and the skies . . 9 
 
 ON WATTS' PICTURE OF PAOLO AND FRANCESCA 10 
 Though borne like withered leaves upon a stream 
 
 Shall I pretend that I no more perceive . . . ,11 
 
 The silver angel with sad sable wings . . . .12 
 
 AEIPIOESSA KAAT3 13 
 
 She listened to the music of the spheres 
 
 I dreamed that I was lifted to the skies . . .14 
 
 And now the first cold numbness of the blow . . -15 
 
 AFTER SEEING " ROMEO AND JULIET " . .16 
 
 A tragedy ? Yes, for the ancient foes 
 
 611597 
 
 LIBRARY
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 rACK 
 
 star of dawn, descended from the spheres .17 
 
 She is a vessel of mysterious snow . . 18 
 
 Oh! something less than words, and somethinR mon- 19 
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT .... -O 
 
 We have been loosened from the Ixjnds of time 
 
 DEMOPHOON 21 
 
 We shall not look upon his face again 
 
 We drift apart, nor can we quite forget . 22 
 
 1 dare not pray to thre, for thou art won -3 
 
 QKTMOPOE ^4 
 
 Gaily he rode into life's tournament 
 
 THE DEAD SAMURAI TO DEATH . ■ -i 
 
 I had not called nor prayed for thee to come 
 
 THE DYING RESERVIST . . . . .^6 
 
 I shall not see the faces of my friends 
 
 THE WOUNDED . . 27 
 
 They turn us from the long-desired door 
 
 My love is glad and strong as the salt s^a -8 
 
 VALE -'9 
 
 I am for ever haunted by one dread 
 That skies and hills and seas and all things bine ^o 
 
 SPRING FLOODS ^t 
 
 You are the first-born crocus of the spring 
 
 WRITTEN TO A YOUNG LADY . . . X2 
 
 I saw you in the tumult of the lir" 
 
 PALAMON TO EMELEY 33 
 
 As sea-foam, as the rainbow's sprinkled shower 
 
 THE CONSCRIPT 34 
 
 It were disloyalty you say to change 
 
 SONG 3?; 
 
 The sky is stormy antl re<l 
 
 vi
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 SONG 36 
 
 To hide my sorrow's secret smart 
 
 BALLAD 37 
 
 The roses in my garden 
 
 CHANDRA (i) 39 
 
 She is not wrought of perishable clay 
 
 CHANDRA (2) 40 
 
 Like far-seen palms in the desert air 
 
 SONG 41 
 
 The corn is garnered, the swallows fly 
 
 BALLAD 42 
 
 Mine eyes are dim and my wound is sore 
 
 DIRGE FOR A POET 44 
 
 I ponder on a broken lute 
 
 CIRCE 46 
 
 No more shall the sad, fallen Gods be seen 
 
 BLOSSOM 49 
 
 In silence, in the night, an angel came 
 
 Farewell ! this is the last, the saddest tryst . . -Si 
 
 VITA NUOVA . 52 
 
 All these last years have been a winter dream 
 
 THE SONG OF THE NAMELESS .... 54 
 
 Oh ! who are these men marching in procession dark 
 and long 
 
 THE CLOWN 58 
 
 There was once a poor clown all dressed in white 
 
 SIGURD 59 
 
 The king of men and heroes lay asleep 
 
 Vll
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE BLACK PRINCE AND THE ASTROLOGER (a 
 
 SCENE FROM A PLAY) ...... 69 
 
 The planets speak of an impending task 
 THE DEATH OF THE BLACK PRINCE (a scene 
 
 FROM A play) . . . . . . -83 
 
 Oh ! I am well content 
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT (A PLAY IN FIVE ACTS) 91 
 Tristram, my friend, thou who hast been to me 
 
 PROSERPINE (A MASQUE) 179 
 
 Where does the Queen of the Fairies dwell ?
 
 SONNETS AND LYRICS 
 
 B
 
 SONNETS 
 
 TO H. B. 
 
 (with a rook of verse) 
 
 I too have travelled in the unknown land, 
 And anchored by the unfrequented shore ; 
 I too have heard the Stygian waters roar, 
 And seen the foam of Lethe kiss the sand. 
 
 I too have trampled the enchanted grass, 
 And seen the phantom hunters gallop by, 
 And heard the fafiry bugle, and the sigh 
 Of banished gods that in the woodways pass. 
 
 And as a traveller brings his spoil to him 
 More richly graced in might and bravery. 
 So do I give to you these records dim 
 
 Of bright adventure in the fields forlorn ; — 
 To you who heard the blast of Roland's horn. 
 And saw Iseult set sail for Brittany.
 
 SONNETS 
 
 EXILE 
 
 TO A. P. 
 
 They with the world would have you reconciled, 
 Outgrow the impulse of these fantasies, 
 These rebel storms ; and act in grown-up wise. 
 They know not ; in your mother's arms you 
 smiled ; 
 
 And yet your soul with timeless memories 
 
 Was sad ; and when old age shall claim you. 
 
 child. 
 Your heart with young despair shall still be wild 
 And childish mirth shall still light up your eyes. 
 
 Because a banished spirit in you dwells, 
 
 That strayed from lands beyond the unfurrowed 
 
 sea, 
 And frets rejecting its captivity ; 
 
 You hear the horns of the forbidden chase. 
 The happy ghosts that down the woodland race 
 And gallop through the trampled asphodels.
 
 SONNETS 
 
 -QUAND VOUS SEREZ BIEN 
 VIEILLE" 
 
 When you are old, no man will start to hear 
 That you were once more lovely than the day ; 
 Old age may change but cannot take away 
 From you ; and you will meet him without fear. 
 
 Yet when you think of him who loved fair things, 
 And singing of all beauty sang but you, 
 Nor dreamed you guessed the secret of his strings. 
 Then say : " Although he knew it not, I knew." 
 
 I shall be dead and mid the shadowy throng 
 In the long twilight I shall not forget ; — 
 You still will tread the earth with royal grace ; 
 
 And if you smile remembering my song, 
 A moonbeam to the kingdoms of regret 
 Will come and flood with light the sunless place. 
 
 5
 
 SONNETS 
 
 We drifted to each other like two birds, 
 That meet high in the windy middle air, 
 Then fly away again ; each unaware 
 That there had passed between us silent words. 
 
 Then like two pilgrims, tired and travel-sore 
 We sought for shelter from the rising tide 
 Of night, in the dark hollow mountain-side. 
 And, mutually remembering, met once more. 
 
 But when the morning came and we looked down 
 Upon the glittering cities of the plain. 
 We lingered in the lonely crag content ; — 
 
 The world which cannot know the hills will 
 
 frown ; — 
 But sweet and blissful i^ the bani.^hment 
 In the high pinnacles of wind and rain.
 
 SONNETS 
 
 You walked into the temple of a soul ; 
 
 You scanned the height, the depth, and each 
 
 recess ; 
 You praised the silvery sombre loveliness ; 
 You heard the multitudinous organ roll. 
 
 Behind the towering altar, sad and pale, 
 An angel stood and uttered mournful sighs ; 
 And, answering the question in your eyes. 
 The angel pointed to a hanging veil. 
 
 You tore aside the veil, a dreadful gleam 
 Revealed the sights you had not feared to see, 
 And a great darkness fell upon the shrine. 
 
 You wept, but not your pain nor the lost dream 
 You pitied ; but that this sad thing should be ; — 
 And then once more the temple shone divine.
 
 SONNETS 
 
 TO ETHEL SMYTH 
 
 Your singing brings ihe rustle of the trees, 
 The tall trees sighing on the mountain-side ; 
 It brings a whisper from the foamless tide 
 That broadening fills the ample estuaries. 
 
 Your singing brings the freshness of the breeze 
 That comes at twilight to the breathless plain ; 
 The cry of moaning ghosts that call in vain 
 From wandering prisons in the winds and seas. 
 
 Your singing brings to me the final peace, 
 
 Dissolves the torment of perplexity 
 
 And guides my spirit to a tranquil home ; — 
 
 As when the moon compels the storm to cease 
 And calms the wind ; and all the skeins of foam 
 Unravel softly on the vanquished sea. 
 
 8
 
 SONNETS 
 
 You were the Queen of evening, and the skies 
 Were soft above you, knowing you were fair, 
 The dewy gold of sunset in your hair, 
 And twiHght in the stillness of your eyes. 
 
 You did not know your dear divinity, 
 And childlike, all unconscious that you walked 
 High in celestial air, you smiled and talked. 
 And stooped to pluck a rose, and gave it me. 
 
 As at the gate of heaven an angel-child 
 Might wonder at an outcast's pleading gaze, 
 An outcast kneeling at the golden bars, 
 
 And say : " Come, be my playmate, here the days 
 Are longer, and the ways outside are wild. 
 And you shall play with suns and silver stars."
 
 SONNETS 
 
 ON WATTS' PICTlllE OF TAOLO 
 AND FRANC ESC A 
 
 TO A. V. M. 
 
 Though borne like withered leaves upon a stream, 
 Faded and dead, they would not live again. 
 Nor, in the hard world, face the wiles of men ; 
 Their past is but the haunting of a dream. 
 
 And yet the}' would not sleep in asphodel. 
 Nor, for without remorse is their regret, 
 Drink deep of bliss and utterly forget ; 
 Not for all Heaven would they exchange their 
 Hell. ^ ^ 
 
 And they give thanks because their punishment 
 Is sealed and sure, because their doom shall be 
 To go in anguish through Eternity, 
 
 Together on the never-resting air. 
 Beyond all happiness is their content 
 Who know there is no end to their despair. 
 
 10
 
 SONNETS 
 
 Shall I pretend that I no more perceive 
 The peerless worth of your high quahties ? 
 And say your precious words are honeyed lies 
 Which my conceit compels me to believe ; 
 
 And vow your lips divinely do deceive ; 
 Call false the unclouded earnest of your eyes 
 And artificial the pure tears that rise, 
 When you take pity and with passion grieve ? 
 
 Shall I forswear my faith in Truth and Right ? 
 Acknowledge only God's black cruelty ? 
 Yet if I bow but to an impious might, 
 
 More great and blind my faith in you must be ; 
 For you are Heaven and Hell and Day and Night, 
 And Sun and Moon and Providence to me. 
 
 II
 
 SONNETS 
 
 ** To that high capital where kingly Death 
 Keeps his pale court in beauty and decay. '^ — Shelxit. 
 
 TO E. M. 
 
 The silver angel with sad sable wings 
 Flew down to meet her in the dewy field, 
 And broke her happy song half-way, and scaled 
 Her singing with the kiss of silent things, 
 
 And bade her seek the dark and banished land. 
 She did not raise wet, wistful eyes, nor pray 
 With outstretched arms for one, for one more 
 
 day, 
 But to his shining hands she gave her hand. 
 
 She looked not back, though she remembered 
 
 much, 
 But steadfastly she climbed the darkling stair, 
 And followed firm the strange and glistening 
 
 touch. 
 
 Till in the whiteness of the silent hall, 
 Over her frozen eyes and faded hair, 
 Queenlike she bound the scarlet coronal. 
 
 12
 
 SONNETS 
 
 AEIPI0E22A KAAYS 
 
 TO E. W. G. 
 
 She listened to the music of the spheres ; 
 
 We thought she did not hear our happy strings ; 
 
 Stars diademed her hair in misty rings, 
 
 And all too late we knew those stars were tears. 
 
 Without she was a temple of pure snow, 
 Within were piteous flames of sacrifice ; 
 And underneath the dazzling mask of ice 
 A heart of swiftest fire was dying slow. 
 
 She in herself, as lonely lilies fold 
 Stiff silver petals over secret gold. 
 Shielded her passion, and remained afar 
 
 From pity. Cast red roses on the pyre ! 
 She that was snow shall rise to Heaven as fire 
 In the still glory of the morning star. 
 
 13
 
 SONNETS 
 
 I DREAMED that I was lifted to the skies 
 And found her in the starless end of space ; 
 There was no smile of welcome on her face. 
 There were no tears in her immortal eyes. 
 
 She did not recollect nor recognise ; 
 
 But comfort, like a dawn, then seemed to break ; 
 
 I said, " It is a dream, I shall awake 
 
 And find her turning earth to Paradise." 
 
 I wake, and know that nothing can restore 
 My dearest to the Earth, to sight and sound ; 
 I know that I no longer hope to soar 
 
 And find her shining at the heavenly bound. 
 
 She is of yesterday for evermore ; 
 
 All my to-days are buried in the ground. 
 
 H
 
 SONNETS 
 
 And now the first cold numbness of the blow 
 Is past, past also is the secret smart ; 
 The dizzy panic of the helpless heart, 
 And the rebellious tears have ceased to flow. 
 
 Now all the world stands out distinct and sad. 
 And laughter rings more hollow and more vain ; 
 Grief seems more palpable, more plenteous pain, 
 And the mad strife grows hour by hour more mad. 
 
 Now I can say : " Thank God she is not here. 
 Thank God that yonder safe upon the shore 
 She sleeps beneath the cold and boundless night, 
 
 And hears the wailing of the waves no more. 
 Nor moan of men, in careless fortune's might, 
 Who cry for help, and as they cry despair." 
 
 15
 
 SONNETS 
 
 AFTER SEEING -ROMEO AND 
 JULIET " 
 
 A TRAGEDY ? Ycs, foi the ancient foes, 
 When fateful friendship sealed their perished feud 
 Not tragic for the wooer and the wooed 
 Was life's untimely, undividing close. 
 
 The timorous maid aroused by love arose 
 A fearless wife. The idler who pursued 
 His glittering aims, a vain and petty brood. 
 Through love attained to manhood and repose. 
 
 The two transfigured natures blent in one. 
 
 And this full, perfect, passionate unity, 
 
 For rough and dusty Earth too bright and high, 
 
 Sank in great calm, as dreaming unison 
 
 Of darkness and midsummer sound must die 
 
 Before the daily duty of the Sun. 
 
 i6
 
 SONNETS 
 
 STAR of dawn, descended from the spheres, 
 From space of gold and snow and flaming zone ; 
 Princes there were enough among your peers 
 To live and love and die for you alone. 
 
 You were the Goddess of a guarded shrine, 
 
 1 was the beggar lingering at the gate ; 
 You left behind the pomp and solemn state. 
 You sought the Earth discrowned and twice 
 
 divine. 
 
 Now you have laid aside your diadem. 
 And bound wild roses in your royal hair, 
 And I may kiss your shining garment's hem. 
 
 Truly my soul has scaled the rainbow stair ; 
 The world lies glistening like a fiery gem, 
 And all the stars are singing in the air. 
 
 17
 
 SONNETS 
 
 She is a vessel of mysterious snow, 
 A water-lily anchored in dark reeds, 
 That in the evening's violet afterglow 
 Unfolds its hidden heart of flaming seeds. 
 
 She has the halo of the lonely moon. 
 And round her floats the jessamin's faint musk, 
 With summer birds and bees she is in tune 
 And silvcrv moths and the delirious dusk. 
 
 In the green twilight of her leafy bower 
 She gave me water from a whispering well, 
 And there, a secret sun, she shone for mc. 
 
 Now I am banished from the ecstasy, 
 Her face has filled the imperishable hour. 
 Sways like a phantom moon my soul in Hell. 
 
 I8
 
 SONNETS 
 
 Oh ! something less than words, and something 
 
 more 
 I'd need if I would write for you ; the spell 
 That bids the wandering sounds in concord soar 
 And opens wide the gates of Heaven and Hell. 
 
 Then would I write you the sad melody, 
 That only tells a loneliness forlorn 
 It found in the dark heart where it was born. 
 Yet speaks the groaning world's whole misery. 
 
 Rising, it shakes the burden from its wings ; 
 It soars triumphant to the sky and sings ; 
 The veil is rent ; the clouds are scattered far. 
 
 The listening soul was one with floods of light, 
 And swam within that stillness infinite. 
 Constant, eternal, one with every star. 
 
 19
 
 SONNETS 
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 We have been loosened from the bonds of time 
 And space in vain divides us. Near or far, 
 Absent, you shine before me Uke a star ; 
 The hours when you are with me cease to chime. 
 
 Sadness we know but not satiety ; 
 We heed no march of seasons short or long, 
 O'erwhelmcd and deafened by the tides of song. 
 Which roll increasing from eternity. 
 
 For us the glory of the day is done ; 
 And sunset melts in a long silvery dream 
 Of darkness luminous with peace and dew ; 
 
 We float, like ghosts upon death's endless stream, 
 In bliss ; for only one soft unison 
 Breathes in the empty vastness : I and you. 
 
 20
 
 SONNETS 
 
 DEMOPHOON 
 
 We shall not look upon his face again ; 
 The wanderer will return to us no more. 
 Brief was the stay ! Yet how could he remain ? 
 His soul was native to the ghostly shore. 
 
 The shadows of dominions huge and dim, 
 The scent of alien meadows far away, 
 The breeze that blows from Lethe followed him, 
 Home-sick for night, and weary of the day. 
 
 And found he peace in lands beyond the sun ? 
 The stillness that he craved, the dreamless home? 
 Or stands he now beside the calling foam, 
 
 Still waiting till at last the sail shall gleam 
 
 And bear him from the place of dusk and dream 
 
 To the full harbours of oblivion ? 
 
 21
 
 SONNETS 
 
 We drift apart, nor can we quite forget ; — 
 Some link is lost ; and that affinity, 
 That binds us not and will not set us free. 
 Still tinges all our friendship with regret. 
 
 And now I feel our hearts at last have met 
 In perfect tune ; that God made you for me 
 And me for you ; and now that He has set 
 This veil between us, this mute mystery. 
 
 Yet when I wash away the dust of earth, 
 
 In the cool kingdoms of celestial dew, 
 
 I think that you will meet me with a smile. 
 
 The old smile made undying with new birth ; 
 And I'll say this : " I loved you all the while." 
 And you will say : " I loved you and I knew." 
 
 22
 
 SONNETS 
 
 I DARE not pray to thee, for thou art won 
 Rarely by those by whom thou hast been wooed ; 
 Thou comest unsolicited, unsued, 
 Like sudden splendours of the midnight sun. 
 
 Yet in my heart the hope doth still abide 
 
 That thou hast haply heard my unbreathed 
 
 prayer ; 
 That in the stifling moment of despair, 
 I shall turn round and find thee by my side. 
 
 Like a sad pilgrim who has wandered far, 
 And hopes not any longer for the day. 
 But bhnded by black thickets finds no way. 
 
 Comes to a rift of trees in that sad plight. 
 And suddenly sees the unending aisles of night 
 And in the emerald gloom the morning star. 
 
 23
 
 SONNETS 
 
 QKYMOPOS 
 
 Gaily he rode into life's tournament, 
 Gaily he ran at tilt to win the prize, 
 April was in his heart and in his eyes, 
 Death called to him and unafraid he went. 
 
 Then pity those who grieve, but oh ! not him. 
 Though taken from the sunlight to the grave, 
 He shared the fortune of the happy brave, 
 He tasted of a joy which grew not dim. 
 
 The Fates when they beheld young Sigurd ride 
 Fearless and happy through the roads of spring. 
 To leap those flames which circled in a ring 
 
 The glory of his unawakened bride ; 
 
 Mindful of what the tragic years should bring. 
 
 Whispered : " It is to-day he should have died." 
 
 24
 
 SONNETS 
 
 THE DEAD SAMURAI TO DEATH 
 
 TO E. C. 
 
 I HAD not called nor prayed for thee to come ; 
 
 No favour of the Fates I bent to ask, 
 
 I thought but of the momentary task : 
 
 In the supreme bright hour my soul was dumb. 
 
 Yet above all the rest 'twas here and now 
 I longed to meet with thee, O beckoning friend ; 
 Before the lightning of thine eyes to bow 
 And follow thee to where the triumphs end. 
 
 Therefore let those who gaze upon me here 
 Discern no sadness in my staring eyes 
 And no regret, they will not look for fear. 
 
 I dared not hope to meet thee in this place ; 
 Then let my smile speak rapture and surprise 
 And with ineffable wonder stamp my face. 
 
 Poutiloff's Hill, 
 
 October 17, 1904 
 
 25
 
 SONNETS 
 
 THE DYING RESERVIST 
 
 TO B. C. 
 
 I SHALL not see the faces of my friends, 
 Nor hear the songs the rested reapers sing 
 After the labours of the harvesting, 
 In those dark nights before the summer ends ; 
 
 Nor see the floods of spring, the melting snow. 
 Nor in the autumn twilight hear the stir 
 Of reedy marshes, when the wild ducks whir 
 And circle black against the afterglow. 
 
 My mother died ; she shall not have to weep ; 
 My wife will find another home ; my child, 
 Too young, will never grieve or know ; but I 
 
 Have found my brother, and contentedly 
 
 I'll lay my head upon his knees and sleep. 
 
 O brother Death, — I knew you when you smiled. 
 
 26
 
 SONNETS 
 
 THE WOUNDED 
 
 TO H. C. 
 
 They turn us from the long-desired door ; 
 Here there is shelter for the sorely spent, 
 But not for us ; since many a dying score 
 Of maimed and mangled men, whose limbs are 
 rent 
 
 With bayonet and with bullet, crowd the floor. 
 We who have fought since dawn, nor tasted bread, 
 Although our wounds are slight, our wounds are 
 
 sore, 
 We must march on, nor shall we find a bed. 
 
 O men, O brothers, is our rest not earned ? 
 Shall we not seek the mountains huge and wide 
 Whose doors are always open ? There the guest 
 
 Sweet welcome finds ; for thou hast never turned 
 A stranger from thy gates, nor hast denied, 
 O hospitable Death, a place to rest. 
 
 FUN-CHU-LING, 
 
 October i6, 1904 
 
 27
 
 SONNETS 
 
 My love is glad and strong as the salt sea ; 
 Thou art the moon above it, singly bright. 
 Thou shalt discern me thus in thy still might ; 
 Thus fathomless and wide my love shall be. 
 
 And vast and dim with a green world of waves, 
 And rich with pearls and gems and drifting weeds, 
 And derelict hulls and wrecks of perished deeds, 
 And oozy woods and undiscovered caves. 
 
 But all this huge tumultuous element 
 
 Shall whisper like a woodland stream, and sleep 
 
 Calm as a slumbering child ; shall smile and weep 
 
 In dreams of bliss, — obedient, soft and still ; 
 For thou, my moon, from thy dark firmament 
 Upon this sea shalt write thy silver will. 
 
 28
 
 SONNETS 
 
 VALE 
 
 I AM for ever haunted by one dread, 
 That I may suddenly be swept away, 
 Nor have the leave to see you, and to say 
 Good-bye ; then this is what I would have said : 
 
 I have loved summer and the longest day ; 
 The leaves of June, the slumberous film of heat, 
 The bees, the swallow, and the waving wheat. 
 The whistling of the mowers in the hay. 
 
 I have loved words which lift the soul with wings, 
 Words that are windows to eternal things. 
 I have loved souls that to themselves are true, 
 
 Who cannot stoop and know not how to fear. 
 
 Yet hold the talisman of pity's tear : 
 
 I have loved these because I have loved you. 
 
 29
 
 SONNETS 
 
 " Tarceque c'etait elle ; parceque t'itait mot." 
 
 That skies and hills and seas and all things blue 
 Are bluer for the light which filled your eyes, 
 That nature's treasure-house of harmonies 
 Is richer for the music that was you, 
 
 Comforts me not ; nor yet the word sublime 
 That speaks of the unknown immensity, 
 Where we shall meet and understand, set free 
 Forever from the bonds of space and time. 
 
 You were a summer's day, all warmth and tune ; 
 Your soul a harbour, dark beneath the moon. 
 And flashing with soft lights of sympathy ; — 
 
 But oh ! the seal of grief more than these things 
 Is the old phrase that now so sadly rings : 
 That you were you, and I, alas ! am I. 
 
 30
 
 SONNETS 
 
 SPRING FLOODS 
 
 TO M. F. 
 
 You are the first-born crocus of the spring ; 
 The swiftest swallow from the Afric sands, 
 That comes back twittering to the northern 
 
 lands ; 
 The song that larks o'er melted snowfields sing. 
 
 You are the million melodies that ring 
 
 At dawn, in dew-drenched woods. You are the 
 
 hour 
 When the frail almond-blossom breaks in flower, 
 And you are sweeter than that blossoming. 
 
 My life was like a frozen land ; but you 
 Came like the sun ; the snows, in disarray, 
 Made of the plain and meadows one broad 
 stream. 
 
 My perished hopes were leafless trees ; to-day, 
 On the bright floods, by miracle made new, 
 They float like shadows of a silver dream. 
 
 31
 
 SONNETS 
 
 WRITTEN TO A YOUNG LADY 
 
 AFTER SEEING HER ASSIST AT THE EXTINGUISHING 
 OF A FIRE IN A VILLAGE IN RUSSIA 
 
 TO C. A. D. 
 
 I SAW you in the tumult of the fire ; 
 The flames unfurled a huge triumphant cloud. 
 You were all white against the shadowy crowd, 
 Like a calm priestess by a blazing pyre. 
 
 The glare had made of night a glowing sea ; 
 With the full moon aloof in starless skies. 
 Your eyes outshone the fire ; your quiet eyes 
 Had robbed the moon of her tranquillity. 
 
 Surely before we both were born your face 
 Once brought me quiet in a fatal place. 
 When Troy was burned and all the dying men 
 
 Looked up and saw fair Helen in the fire, 
 And gladly fell. Ah ! You were Helen then, 
 And I who died, I had my heart's desire ! 
 
 32
 
 SONNETS 
 
 PALAMON TO EMELEY 
 
 As sea-foam, as the rainbow's sprinkled shower 
 As perishable as the blossom's hue, 
 Is this the verse I write in praise of you, 
 The ghost of an imperishable hour. 
 
 I saw you gathering here and there a flower, 
 In the green garden where the lilies grew, 
 I thought you were frail Venus, born of dew. 
 As frail as the May blossom's fallen dower. 
 
 I cast my flower of verse into the stream. 
 That drowns like weeds, in its remorseless wave, 
 The pride of Kings, the glory of the brave, 
 But since your beauty tinges it, my dream 
 
 Shall float for ever in this film of rhyme, 
 
 A roseleaf drifting down the floods of Time. 
 
 » 33
 
 SONNETS 
 
 THE CONSCRIPT 
 
 TO G. W. 
 
 It were disloyalty you say to change 
 Your roving birthright for a paper rose, 
 And for a silver penny and brave clothes 
 To swear away your spirit's reckless range. 
 
 You will not sell your freedom for a plume, 
 Nor let your soul be brutalized in drill, 
 Nor break you to a meddling sergeant's will ; 
 You that have access to the general's room. 
 
 I claim a larger freedom. If in line 
 
 I serve with others, all their strength is mine. 
 
 The large consent uplifts me upon wings. 
 
 And in the faces of the men that die. 
 
 Obedient to the bugle, I descry 
 
 The seal and mandate of the King of Kings. 
 
 34
 
 LYRICS 
 
 SONG 
 
 The sky is stormy and red ; 
 
 The wanderer comes from the west, 
 He knocks at the door and dread 
 
 Knocks at the heart in my breast ; 
 Wanderer, what is thy quest ? 
 
 Worse than the battle and rout 
 Is the icy dweUing within ; 
 
 Empty and full of the shout 
 
 Of the mirthless laughter of sin ; 
 
 Wanderer, stay thou without ! 
 
 35
 
 LYRICS 
 
 SONG 
 
 To hide my sorrow's secret smart, 
 I often laugh till it breaks my heart ; 
 When love is dead and despair has come, 
 It is best for lips to be sealed and dumb ; 
 When Love is dead, and Death is nigh, 
 'Tis best to stifle memory. 
 Nothing can quicken the withered flower, 
 Never returns the once vanished hour ; 
 My heart is dead and my tears arc dry, 
 'Tis best to stifle memory. 
 
 36
 
 LYRICS 
 
 BALLAD 
 
 TO N. 
 
 The roses in my garden 
 
 Were white in the noonday sun, 
 But they were dyed with crimson 
 
 Before the day was done. 
 
 All clad in golden armour, 
 
 To fight the Saladin, 
 He left me in my garden. 
 
 To weep, to sing, and spin. 
 
 When fell the dewy twilight 
 I heard the wicket grate. 
 
 There came a ghost who shivered 
 Beside my garden gate. 
 
 All clad in golden armour. 
 But dabbled with red dew ; 
 
 He did not lift his vizor, 
 And yet his face I knew. 
 
 37
 
 LYRICS 
 
 And when he left my garden 
 
 'i'hc To^xs all were red 
 And dyed in a fresh crimwjn ; 
 
 Only my heart was dead. 
 
 The roses in my garden 
 
 Were while in the no<»nday sun ; 
 Bui ihey were dyed with crimson 
 
 Before the day was done. 
 
 38
 
 LYRICS 
 
 CHANDRA 
 
 TO M, 
 
 (0 
 
 She is not wrought of perishable clay, 
 
 But of some delicate essence thin and rare, 
 
 Some texture whereof iris-dews are made, 
 
 Or wings of dragon-flies, or petals of foam, 
 
 Or the frail, iridescent, floating shell. 
 
 In vain we liken her to star or flower ; 
 
 Fairer is she than earthly semblances. 
 
 She is a spirit wandered from the moon ; — 
 
 A sigh, a melody made palpable. 
 
 She moves as though she floated o'er the flowers, 
 
 And the earth seems to fawn beneath her feet. 
 
 And the sky seems to crown her as a Queen. 
 
 39
 
 LYRICS 
 
 CHANDRA 
 
 (2) 
 
 Like far-seen palms in the desert air, 
 
 Like phantom isles hung over the seas, 
 Like glistening haze in the noontide's glare, 
 
 Or webs of silver on twilight trees : 
 So thou seemest, a film of light, 
 
 A baseless dream which at dawn must die ; 
 Like dew of the morn or the snowflake bright, — 
 
 Child of the moon, descend from the sky. 
 
 Come, for the darkness has risen from earth. 
 
 And the moon has breathed o'er the sleeping 
 sea ; 
 We are weary of toil, we are sated with mirth, 
 
 We are fain to dream, and our dream is of thee. 
 The moon and the stars and the lotus flower, 
 
 The lilies and dusk are of no avail, 
 For thou art the dream of the twilight hour 
 
 And lotus and lily, O fair ! O frail ! 
 
 40
 
 LYRICS 
 
 SONG 
 
 TO C. L. 
 
 The corn is garnered, the swallows fly, 
 The leaves fall soft on their wintry bed. 
 There was a dream in the summer sky, 
 And song, as soft as a rose's sigh. 
 Why should I linger .? the dream has fled. 
 The song is silent, the rose is dead, 
 
 The ghost of the rose is in the air. 
 
 The dead song speaks in the moaning sea ; 
 
 After the dream is the long despair. 
 
 The endless dusk and the unheard prayer : 
 
 " O Death come quickly and set me free, 
 
 My friend is no longer kind to me." 
 
 41
 
 LYRICS 
 
 BALLAD 
 
 Mine eyes are dim and my wound is sore, 
 White sail, will you come to me ? 
 
 My Friend, shall I never see thee more ? 
 Be still, O moaning sea. 
 
 Have you forgotten the cup of bliss ? 
 
 White sail, will you come to me ? 
 On the flying ship, and the first long kiss ? 
 
 Be still, O moaning sea. 
 
 Have you forgotten the forest trees ? 
 
 White sail, will you come to me ? 
 The vows we spoke to the stars and seas ? 
 
 Be still, O moaning sea. 
 
 I sought you once in a strange disguise ; 
 
 White sail, will you come to me ? 
 You knew not even my sad, sad eyes ; 
 
 Be still, O moaning sea. 
 
 " Call when you will, I'll come," you said ; 
 
 White sail, will you come to me .? 
 Come swiftly, or you will find me dead ; 
 
 Be still, O moaning sea. 
 
 42
 
 BALLAD 
 
 The sail is black, they have hauled it high ; 
 
 White sail, you came not to me ; 
 I'll turn my face to the wall and die ; 
 
 Be still, O moaning sea. 
 
 Iseult, my life, my death, my friend ! 
 White sail, there's no need for thee ; 
 
 1 waited for you until the end . . . 
 Still is the moaning sea. 
 
 43
 
 LYRICS 
 
 DIRGE FOR A POET 
 
 I PONDER on a broken lute, 
 
 The fragment of a song, 
 And wonder if the soul be mute, 
 
 Or if a heavenly throng 
 Of harmonies and mighty themes 
 Proclaim his interrupted dreams. 
 
 The wistful thought, the hidden fire, 
 
 The darkling prophecies, 
 The passion and the brave desire 
 
 That lit his startled eyes ; 
 Oh ! will that broken music reach 
 Through large fulfilment unto speech ? 
 
 And shall I meet him once again 
 
 Upon the endless way ? 
 East of the sun, where gleams the plain 
 
 That knows not night nor day ; 
 And in the calm untroubled land 
 Will his wild spirit understand ? 
 
 44
 
 DIRGE FOR A POET 
 
 Like some soft fiery cloud that soars 
 
 At sunset o'er the snow, 
 He sought the pale unearthly shores 
 
 Beyond the western glow ; 
 And sank into the wave of night 
 Before he reached the crimson light. 
 
 Perchance to-morrow's western wind 
 
 May bear to oceans dim, 
 Mysterious clouds incarnadined, 
 
 But never one like him. 
 Shall nature stop the march of spheres 
 Because of a few foolish tears ? 
 
 Once only nature breathes each note 
 That builds the song of time : 
 
 No more across the skies will float 
 That tender sunset chime. 
 
 I loved ; and in the eastern skies 
 
 A million morning stars arise. 
 
 45
 
 LYRICS 
 
 I 
 
 CIRCE 
 
 TO R. B. 
 
 No more shall the sad, fallen Gods be seen ; 
 Weary of exile in the sullen world, 
 Forgotten by the thankless mortal race ; 
 They recollect the glory that has been ; 
 Olympus once with starry snow impcarled 
 Haunts and derides them in their chill disgrace, 
 And thus they seek the dark and dreamless place. 
 
 Some linger yet, and in the Tuscan hills, 
 Where the pink rose-bush fringes the green 
 corn, 
 The swallows hear the song of Proserpine ; 
 And oft Apollo with a glory fills 
 
 A church on some Sicilian shore, forlorn. 
 Where none but lovers seek the ruined shrine ; 
 But lovers know and praise the light divine. 
 
 Circe abides in her enchanted home. 
 The rainbow circle of an opal isle. 
 Set in a ghostly sea where no wind blows ; 
 Yet few can find that faery bell of foam. 
 
 46
 
 CIRCE 
 
 And oft when through the night, a weary- 
 while, 
 Pilgrims have laboured, as the morning glows, 
 It blossoms in the East, a pearly rose. 
 
 Yet Circe too is changed, a listless shade 
 Of her who paced before the golden loom ; 
 For she has felt the waving of Death's wings, 
 A pale immortal flower, she fain would fade ; 
 Her life is dusk that deepens not to gloom ; 
 Dumbly she feels the sharp regret that stings 
 The darkened soul, the lapse of mortal things. 
 
 Hushed is the music of the haunted well, 
 Unvexed by sighing ghosts her woodland 
 ways ; 
 For Circe has renounced her perilous wand ; 
 Nor seeks to capture men with any spell. 
 They do but drink the pity of her gaze. 
 They feel the solace of her flower-like hand. 
 And dwell a moment in her still strange land. 
 
 There in the emerald evening she bestows 
 A silent pitying audience on her slaves ; 
 And thence they sail into a wide despair ; 
 Around her isle dark vapours seem to close, 
 Before them lie unending wastes of waves, 
 And dazed they think the vision blest and fair 
 Was but a mirage of the mocking air. 
 
 47
 
 LYRICS 
 
 Henceforth as men that dream a lustrous 
 dream 
 Which Hngers through the brightness of the 
 day 
 And clings Hke subtle scent of herb or flower, 
 They cannot but recall the halcyon gleam 
 Of that green island in the world grown grey ; 
 They see the pale witch in her dusky bower, 
 Like a tall lily in the twilight hour. 
 
 And some set sail and seek her isle once more 
 Toiling until they sink into their grave ; 
 But no man twice fulfils the phantom quest. 
 And some await upon the desolate shore 
 A pilot star to point across the wave, 
 The sunset isle they find not in the West, 
 Till Death upon their tir'd eyes sheddeth rest. 
 
 But Circe watches from her jasmine throne. 
 And when at sunset the dark waters shine, 
 A sound of sighing trembles in the breeze ; 
 The west wind brings the wistful pilgrims' 
 moan, 
 And Circe scans far on the dim sky-line 
 The white sails of unnumbered argosies, 
 Like flakes of snow upon the crimson seas. 
 
 48
 
 LYRICS 
 
 BLOSSOM 
 
 TO A. C. B. 
 
 In silence, in the night, an angel came. 
 
 And breathed a song upon the wintry earth, 
 And lit within its frozen heart a flame ; 
 
 And the divine still mystery of birth 
 Crept trembling through the slumberous fields 
 and trees. 
 
 With the first glimmer of the April morn. 
 Some wondrous thing and new 
 Spoke in the whisper of the dawn's cold breeze ; — 
 
 The world, awakening through its tears of dew, 
 Smiled, for in darkness blossom had been born. 
 
 As though the dawn had flung to earth her veil. 
 
 The dew-drenched blossom glistens in the sun ; 
 Softer than snow, and as a mirage frail. 
 
 It hangs in blushing films divinely spun. 
 What silent plotting powers have planned this 
 sight ? 
 
 It is as though the never-resting loom 
 Of time had ceased to ply ; 
 And the thin web of hours had taken flight 
 
 Before the advent of Eternity, — 
 As darkness, when the dawn breaks into bloom. 
 
 E 49
 
 LYRICS 
 
 Alas ! the vision is a wistful smile 
 
 Upon the cheating features of the hour ; 
 Earth toils in travail, beauty is born, awhile 
 
 To shine like flame, to wither like a flower. 
 The fashioned wonders of man's hand and brain, 
 
 The living marble, the immortal song, 
 The poet's soaring dream. 
 Rise like the blossom, like the blossom wane ; 
 
 And on the moving surface of Time's stream 
 Their life is neither briefer nor more long. 
 
 Sorrow descends upon the mortal sight, 
 
 Sorrow for beauty of fair things that fade, 
 Till one strong thought consoles the hopeless 
 night. 
 That from the wealth of God, where worlds 
 arc made, 
 (The Treasure-house that nothing can decrease), 
 A never-ending tide shall ebb and flow ; 
 The note must sound and die, — 
 The eternal symphony shall never cease ; 
 
 Divinely made, thought, shape and melody 
 Shall come like blossom and like blossom go. 
 
 t;o
 
 LYRICS 
 
 From a play 
 
 Farewell ! this is the last, the saddest tryst ; 
 For I am of the valley and the plain, 
 And you are for the mountain and the mist ; 
 Farewell ! we shall not say " Farewell " again. 
 
 You will forget the swearing of the oath ; 
 You were the wind and I the bending tree ! 
 Alas ! I am the rock and you the froth, 
 That lightly comes and goes upon the sea. 
 
 Farewell ! your path is to the rising sun, 
 But in the twilight I shall watch in vain ; 
 For what is done can never be undone, 
 And joy to me can never come again. 
 
 51
 
 LYRICS 
 
 VITA NUOVA 
 
 From a play 
 
 All these last years have been a winter dream, 
 Which makes the awakening of the Spring more 
 
 sweet, 
 For now it is the Spring, and I do meet you 
 Among the flowers of April. God is kind. 
 When hope in all things fair, when desperate faith 
 In truth and good had perished utterly. 
 When courage and endurance were nigh dead, 
 You rise upon my life again. The spring 
 Is here ; the trees are scarcely green, the earth 
 Is sweet with tender shoots ; but you, too swift, 
 Come bringing not the Dawn but the full noon ; 
 Not Spring, but the whole majesty of Summer — 
 The summer with his robe of gorgeous gold, 
 Drenched with the blood of roses and of poppies ; 
 Stiff with the splendid ripple of ripe corn ; 
 Embroidered with the wings of dragon-flies ; 
 His arms all laden with soft crimson fruit. 
 Crowned with the sickle of the silver moon. 
 And bearing the tall hollyhock for sceptre. 
 Throned on the haze of noonday, with a noise 
 Of turtle-doves, and bees, and nightingales : 
 
 52
 
 VITA NUOVA 
 
 His minstrels, bathed in a great cloud of fragrance, 
 That sheds and scatters many million scents ; — 
 Some warm from the mown hayfields, others cool 
 From the moist haunts of floating waterlilies, 
 Some languorous from the creeping jessamine, 
 Some fresh and dewy from the honeysuckle. 
 Some aromatic from the dying leaves 
 Of strawberries, some dreamy from the pink. 
 Some rich and riotous from the dark rose, 
 Some heavy from the lily. And in his eyes. 
 And drooping from the shadow of his hair, 
 The softness of June twilight, and the rapture 
 Of the star-haunted, hot, midsummer night. 
 
 53
 
 THE SONG OF THE NAMELESS 
 
 TO OTTO BENZON 
 
 Oh ! who are these men marching in procession 
 
 dark and long, 
 To the sound of mournful music, and a tired 
 
 triumphant song ? 
 With torches, and with trumpets, and with 
 
 banners red as blood ? 
 They carry neither sword nor gun ; but there's 
 
 a trembling thud 
 Of a hundred thousand footsteps, and the sky 
 
 re-echoes loud 
 With the wistful marching murmur of the long 
 
 dark crowd. 
 
 Have you come to crown a Caesar ? to bury a 
 
 dead king ? 
 What is the secret message of the murmured 
 
 song you sing ? 
 Are you bearing a brave hero who has fallen in 
 
 the wars ? 
 Are you singing of his glory that is writ among 
 
 the stars ? 
 Are you leading saint or singer to be crowned 
 
 with a gold wreath ? 
 Are you mournful or exultant ? Is it life you 
 
 sing, or death ? 
 
 54
 
 THE SONG OF THE NAMELESS 
 
 We are bearing a dead comrade to his final 
 
 resting bed ; 
 We are singing of the fallen, of the unremem- 
 
 bered dead. 
 The man we bring was of us, but we do not know 
 
 his name ; 
 He worked for us ; he fell before the hour of 
 
 triumph came ; 
 His body is our banner, and his soul our battle-cry, 
 The emblem of the unknown men who in the 
 
 darkness die. 
 
 Why is your song so mirthless if the hour of 
 
 triumph has come ? 
 A million of our comrades are now lying stiff and 
 
 dumb. 
 Why are your ranks so sombre and your music 
 
 soft and slow ? 
 We marched through crimson rivers, and there 
 
 still is blood to flow. 
 Why are your faces worn and wan ? We come 
 
 from very far. 
 And not from fields of battle — all our life has 
 
 been a war. 
 
 How can our march be mirthful, when there's 
 
 yet so far to go ? 
 How can our song be joyous when there still is 
 
 blood to flow ? 
 But we've done what in all ages now can never 
 
 be undone : 
 
 55
 
 LYRICS 
 
 We have torn away the curtain, we have let in 
 
 the bright sun 
 To the prison-house of darkness ; we have 
 
 broken down the bars ; 
 And nothing now can hide from us the sun, the 
 
 moon, the stars. 
 
 Sad is our marching music : it was born of our 
 
 despair. 
 But hark ! and you will hear the note of those 
 
 who little care 
 If their fate be death or exile, and dishonour and 
 
 disgrace ; 
 Who will give up mother, brother, friend, the 
 
 darling one's embrace ; 
 And without the martyr's glory, and without the 
 
 hero's fame. 
 Are content to die for freedom, and to leave 
 
 behind no name. 
 
 Sad is our marching music : but pay heed and 
 
 you will hear 
 The pulse of dumb resistance, and the heart 
 
 that knows not fear ; 
 The voices that cry out that truth is truth, the 
 
 lie a lie. 
 Which only Death can silence, and whose triumph 
 
 is to die. 
 We were weak and we were vanquished ; we 
 
 were scattered, crushed and beat ; 
 But, hark ! the hundred thousand come ! — the 
 
 fruits of our defeat. 
 
 S6 •
 
 THE SONG OF THE NAMELESS 
 
 Like bubbles on the water, and like helpless flakes 
 of snow, 
 
 We leave no trace behind us as we swiftly come 
 and go. 
 
 But the storms of God are brewing ; the moun- 
 tains huge and dumb 
 
 Will melt and loose the torrents, and the floods 
 of spring will come ; 
 
 The wonderful clean waters will descend and 
 drown the earth. 
 
 And all the morning stars shall sing at Freedom's 
 hour of birth. 
 
 And that is why we're marching in procession 
 dark and long. 
 
 To the sound of mournful music, and a tired 
 triumphant song, 
 
 With torches and with trumpets, and with 
 banners red as blood. 
 
 We carry neither gun nor sword ; but there's a 
 trembling thud 
 
 Of a hundred thousand footsteps, and the sky re- 
 echoes loud 
 
 With the wistful, marching murmur of the long 
 dark crowd. 
 
 57
 
 LYRICS 
 
 THE CLOWN 
 
 TO G. K. C. 
 
 There was once a poor clown all dressed in white, 
 In a dungeon, chained to the bars ; 
 
 And he danced all day, and he danced all night, 
 To the sound of the dancing stars. 
 
 " O clown, silly clown, O why do you dance ? 
 
 You know you can never be free. 
 You are tied by the leg to the strings of chance, 
 
 But you dance like captive flea." 
 
 " My chain is heavy, my dungeon is dark, 
 
 I know I can never be free. 
 In my heart, in my heart there's a dancing spark, 
 
 And the stars make music for me. 
 
 " Oh ! mufile my cell and rivet my chains, 
 And fetter my feet and my hands, 
 
 My soul is a horse of foam without reins, 
 That dances on deathless sands." 
 
 S8
 
 LYRICS 
 
 SIGURD 
 
 TO E. P. D. 
 
 The king o£ men and heroes lay asleep, 
 Lulled by the murmurs o£ an inland sea. 
 His army slept along the gleaming sand, 
 Awaiting the great battle of the morn. 
 Out of the sultry sky there seemed to fall 
 Great drops of blood, and like a lonely ghost 
 The pale sea cried, while in the purple west 
 A star emerged not seen before of man. 
 Outshining silvery Sirius and red Mars. 
 And phantom armies ran upon the sea. 
 And in the forest was a noise of wings. 
 
 To Sigurd as he slept there came a dream 
 Of a sad, shining Angel with veiled eyes 
 And sable wings that rustled drearily. 
 Like autumn leaves blown to the doors of men ; 
 And bending down she spake. In the hushed 
 
 night 
 Her solemn words were sadder than the call 
 Of Roland's horn resounding in the hills 
 Of Roncevaux, when with his failing might 
 He blew a farewell blast to Charlemain. 
 
 59
 
 LYRICS 
 
 And thus the Angel spake : " Make ready, 
 Prince, 
 I am the holy harbinger of Death. 
 The Angel of the battle, I appear 
 To men that unto Death are consecrate. 
 To-morrow in the battle we shall meet ; 
 Amid the lightnings of the broken swords 
 Thou shalt behold unveiled my terrible eyes, 
 And hear my fatal bugle-call ; and I 
 Will bear thee swiftly through the starry ways 
 Of night, and trackless space ; but thou must first 
 Give ear unto the message of the gods. 
 
 " Because thou hast been glorious in thy life. 
 Flinched not, nor swerved from the tremendous 
 
 task : 
 Because thou hast endured calamity, 
 And grief proportioned to thy mighty heart, 
 The gods have stored a certain gift for thee. 
 To-morrow thou shalt die. But though the gods 
 Are impotent to join the severed thread. 
 They bid thee choose the manner of thy life 
 For all eternity." 
 
 The angel sang 
 Of high Valhalla where the heroes dwell. 
 " A wondrous light shines in the Warriors' hall, 
 And quiring stars intone their morning song. 
 Say, wilt thou soar to loud Valhalla's hall, 
 And take thy place among the vanished kings ? 
 There shouldst thou drain the cup that overcomes 
 
 60
 
 SIGURD 
 
 All eating care, disheartening weariness, 
 Anguish and memories, and heals the soul." 
 Then Sigurd lifted his kind sea-grey eyes 
 And smiled most sadly, as an aged Queen, 
 Who once had seemed a dazzling garden-flower, 
 Smiles wistfully to see her grandchild weave 
 A coronal of daisies and wild grass. 
 And Sigurd to the Angel answered : " No : 
 For in the phantom feast, although the cup 
 Should drown the memory of mournful things, 
 Though steeped in slumberous ease, the restless 
 
 soul 
 Would in her dream uneasily regret ; 
 And, as a vision captive in the brain 
 Lies furled and folded, so the past would dwell 
 Within the present. My desire would seek 
 The shadowy years that beckon like far lights. 
 The glimmering days I could not quite recall, 
 The past I might not utterly forget. 
 Moreover, her whom I have loved on earth, 
 Brunhilda, in Valhalla would not dwell. 
 And how without her could I dwell in bliss ? " 
 
 And then her voice grew gentle as a flute 
 Blown o'er the levels of a glassy lake 
 At twilight. " Wouldst thou the dominion 
 Of earthly paradises, pleasant fields. 
 And chaliced lilies and white asphodel ? 
 There are the orchards of immortal fruits, 
 Lands ever golden with ungarnered corn. 
 And yellow roses teeming with brown bees. 
 
 6i
 
 LYRICS 
 
 Like stars in a deserted firmament, 
 
 Thou and Brunhilda shining will abide 
 
 By crystal streams and cool melodious woods, 
 
 Where nightingales and fireflies never leave 
 
 The aisles of dusk ; or near some shadowed 
 
 pool 
 Starred with the water-lilies' golden shrines." 
 And Sigurd smiled, " Nay, but the past would 
 
 rise 
 And drown in tears our unforgetting souls. 
 As when the moon, a luring sorceress, 
 Casting enchantment on the stealthy tide 
 Compels the salt and bitter flood to creep 
 And nestle in the inlets of the world. 
 And fringe the darkling beaches with pale 
 
 surf ; 
 Thus round the island of our blissfulness 
 The envious flood of memory would rise. 
 Soon should we pine in listless apathy, 
 And yearn in inconsolable regret." 
 
 The angel questioned Sigurd once again : 
 " Wouldst thou another world wherein to love, 
 Labour and struggle on the battlefields 
 Of old, and win the crown of bitter leaves ? 
 Taste the fleet minute, dizzy and divine, 
 Of rapture, and then feel the hand of Fate 
 Withdraw the chalice from unsated lips ? 
 The agony of parting, and the years 
 Of treacherv and falsehood ? the dark web 
 Of poisonous deceit encompassing 
 
 62
 
 SIGURD 
 
 The love not slander nor the tongues of men 
 Nor power of Gods might else have over- 
 come ? 
 Wouldst thou renew thy love, to be betrayed 
 And fall beneath calamity once more ? 
 
 j> 
 
 Then before Sigurd, like a pageant, passed 
 The ghosts of all the ancient troubled years. 
 He saw the forest where, a careless child, 
 He lived in a green cave, while rustling leaves 
 And sighing branches made a cradle song ; 
 He saw the tall trees shiver in the dawn, 
 And heard the dewy matins of the lark ; 
 He trampled meadows of anemones, 
 White crocus fields and lilies of the valley, 
 Which paved with ghostly silver the dim floor 
 Beneath the dome of Dawn, until they gleamed 
 At sunrise through a cloud of mist and dew, 
 As tapers through a veil of incense burn. 
 
 Once more he wandered through the coverts 
 
 green. 
 And mocked the blackbird on his hemlock 
 
 flute ; 
 Through golden drowsy noons in the deep grass 
 He lay half sleeping, and yet half aware 
 Of woodland sounds and the delicious noise 
 Of summer ; the warm droning insect-hum, 
 Cuckoo and calling dove, and the cool glimpse 
 Of speckled fishes in the running stream. 
 
 63
 
 LYRICS 
 
 And when the Twilight made the woodways 
 
 dim 
 And veiled the skies with a mysterious pall 
 Of emerald, he would seek a dark recess 
 Of leaves and moss, to sleep, while overhead 
 Hesperus quivered in the liquid sky 
 And nightingales made music to the moon. 
 
 He saw again the years of wandering : 
 The travel over many lands and seas, 
 The years of service for an alien King, 
 And at the last Brunhilda on the hill. 
 Encompassed with a ring of snow-white fire. 
 Once more he kissed the sleeping Queen to life 
 And caught the splendour of her opening eyes. 
 And in that daylight all the fire grew dim. 
 And then a vision of the lagging years 
 Revealed the mystery and all the threads 
 Close-woven in the tangled loom of Fate — 
 By reason of what spell unwittingly 
 He won Brunhilda for an alien King. 
 At length the awakening from the trance, the 
 
 dawn 
 Of sunless morning and the huge despair. 
 
 Thus, in a dim procession, passed the years, 
 The crowded years of his tormented life. 
 And Sigurd said to the angel, " I have loved 
 Once, and for ever, and in eternity. 
 Such love as this can never be again. 
 
 64
 
 SIGURD 
 
 Though I were to be born in a new shape, 
 And banished to the furthest star of Heaven, 
 And though I drank of the obHvious wave. 
 Yet if I met my love again, my soul 
 Would recognise and clasp her, soul to soul. 
 Then like to exile angels we should seem. 
 Or children banished from the blissful years 
 Of childhood, and returning there anew 
 After long toil, not able to regain 
 The childish soul, nor find the old delight. 
 I that have battled though my soul despaired. 
 And loved with love more great, more sad than 
 
 death, 
 I that have borne irreparable wrong, 
 Which ages of bright bliss cannot repair ; 
 I, knowing that the hour of Fate has come, 
 Would fain at last possess the whole of peace. 
 Let me be drenched in Death's divinest dew, 
 Let me be cradled in immensity. 
 Let me inherit all oblivion 
 
 And the impregnable night of the dumb grave, — 
 The night unvisited by any star, 
 The sleep unvexed by any wandering dream. 
 Then shall I be rewarded with the void. 
 The inviolable darkness and the dust. 
 The secrecy, the silence, and the sleep 
 Unbroken by the struggling pangs of morn." 
 
 So Sigurd chose. 
 
 The morrow in the fight 
 He beheld silver armour and the eyes 
 
 F 65
 
 LYRICS 
 
 Unveiled and terrible. Now once again 
 
 He tasted rapture dizzy and divine 
 
 And knew the Gods had heeded his one prayer. 
 
 Then the strange star not seen before of man 
 
 Sank in the inland sea as Sigurd died. 
 
 And somewhere in the vastness Sigurd sleeps. 
 
 66
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 THE BLACK PRINCE AND 
 THE ASTROLOGER 
 
 [a scene from a play]
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 Edward, the Black Prince. 
 An Astrologer.
 
 THE BLACK PRINCE AND THE 
 ASTROLOGER 
 
 Interior of Astrologer'' s Tower in the Pyrenees 
 
 Astrologer 
 
 The planets speak of an impending task, 
 
 A work of bitterness to be fulfilled 
 
 Now, in the instant future. Who shall come 
 
 To break the undisturbed serenity 
 
 Of my long solitude ? The night is quiet, 
 
 My sole companions are the wandering stars. 
 
 Whose silence I can spell. [Goes to the zvindow. 
 
 But hark ! I hear 
 The sound of trumpets in the hollow valley. 
 And shifting torches flicker in the night. 
 Again the trumpet calls. It is a camp, 
 And I can hear the champing of the horses. 
 The clank of men in mail. It is an army. 
 Perchance a battle has been fought, perchance 
 It is the eve of battle. Calling echoes 
 Of horn and clarion wander in the valley ; 
 And many hundred flickering torches flare 
 
 69
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Down the dark depths. I hear a step. Perchance 
 Some wounded man has come to me for aid ; 
 Some shepherd. [^ sound of knocking is heard. 
 
 No, it is the visitant 
 Of whom the planets spake. Come in, and wel- 
 come, 
 In Heaven's name, whoever ye may be. 
 
 [Enter the Black Prince, alone. 
 
 Astrologer 
 
 Who art thou, stranger ? Crav'st thou food and 
 shelter .»* 
 
 Edward 
 
 I am a knight, the captain of an army, 
 
 And what my name is boots not ; from the wars 
 
 I have come hither. 
 
 (Astrologer 
 
 Wherefore cam'st thou hither ? 
 
 Edward 
 
 My camp is in the valley, whence I spied 
 
 A light that glimmered from a far-off mountain, 
 
 Like a bright beacon ; when I spake thereof. 
 
 They of the village said a holy sage 
 
 Dwelt there, and communed with the silent stars. 
 
 They said that he held converse with the dead, 
 
 And read the riddle of the skies. 
 
 70
 
 BLACK PRINCE ^ THE ASTROLOGER 
 
 Astrologer 
 
 I knew 
 That thou should'st come. I read it in the sky. 
 
 Edward 
 
 I crave a boon, that you should lend me know- 
 ledge 
 To lighten me of my perplexity. 
 
 Astrologer 
 
 Unfold thy tale, and I will then afford 
 The help I can. 
 
 Edward 
 
 It is a simple tale. 
 I am a captain, born to lead and rule, 
 I would that my dominion should be great 
 And wise and bountiful, as wide it shall be. 
 
 Astrologer 
 Is that the only thought that haunts thy life ? 
 
 Edward 
 
 Nay, there is one who in my little world 
 Shines for me more than sun or moon or star. 
 One woman, whom devoutly I adore, 
 With ceaseless worship, such as the pure saint 
 Breathes in his silent cell, and with a might 
 
 71
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Of sacrifice, as perfect to the end, 
 As that of racked unconquerable martyrs. 
 My life is lit by two great orbs ; the one 
 Is thirst for glory, and the second, love. 
 
 Astrologer 
 Where is the canker ? 
 
 Edward 
 
 Lately I have known 
 The fear of coming doom. This fight is fought, 
 And I have won another victory ; 
 But I am still unquiet. 
 
 Astrologer 
 
 Speak thy fear. 
 
 Edward 
 
 An ague stealthily creeps through all my limbs 
 And hissitude invades me. I had mocked 
 At this, did not a dream that came to me 
 Last night, lie heavily upon my soul. 
 I cannot rede its meaning. 
 
 Thy vision. 
 
 Astrologer 
 
 Thou shalt tell 
 
 72
 
 BLACK PRINCE ^ THE ASTROLOGER 
 
 Edward 
 
 It was after the great battle 
 We fought at Navarette, and I slept. 
 And to the shadow of my dream, an angel 
 Came, as the rainbow comes to the grey sea. 
 He seemed the living spirit of the morning, 
 Winged with the golden fleeces of the dawn ; 
 Sandalled with fire, and diademed with dew, 
 Clothed in the orange ripples of the sunrise 
 As with a royal robe. A burning torch 
 He placed within my hands, and guided me 
 To paths of paradise ; there, while I walked 
 In bliss, I saw another angel come. 
 His face was calm and dazzling as the snow 
 Upon the mountains, pale as Hesperus, 
 Alone in the sad firmament of May. 
 He took the living torch from out my hands ; 
 Then the bright world grew pale, and cold with 
 
 fear, 
 I knew that I was face to face with Death. 
 He led me to a sad triumphant portal. 
 Which opened on a silvery hall of dusk ; 
 And there I saw the heroes and the kings. 
 The valiant dead who perished unafraid. 
 Sleeping beneath a radiant vault of peace ; 
 White as cold marble in the ghostly mist. 
 Their faces glimmering with unearthly calm. 
 And those who fell forgotten in the fight. 
 And those whose names still shine above the 
 
 world 
 
 73
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Like the fixed stars. There in tranquillity, 
 Equal they lie, the heirs of happiness, 
 Rich in their long inheritance of sleep. 
 And round the glistening temple I could see 
 The yawning darkness of a great abyss. 
 Then, as I made to enter, the stern angel 
 Forbade me, pointing to the world, and I 
 Followed with lingering steps, and at the 
 
 margin 
 Of the abysm craved darkness, and access 
 To that immensity. But once again 
 The angel turned, and pointed with pale hands 
 Unto the toiling world. Death who had snatched 
 The torch of Life from out my hands, denied 
 Even his utter darkness unto me. 
 And then methought I woke, with a deep 
 
 breath, 
 Attaining the ineffable release. 
 I said unto my soul : It was a dream ! 
 But daylight came not, and I seemed to linger 
 Eternities in a cold sunless place. 
 And all at once I felt as though a fiend 
 Were binding me in fetters, and I heard 
 A noise of rivets hammered into steel. 
 I strove to move, but I was tightly bound ; 
 And tentacles unseen dragged me to Hell. 
 I screamed, and, screaming, found myself awake. 
 
 Astrologer 
 Was that the end f 
 
 74
 
 BLACK PRINCE ^ THE ASTROLOGER 
 
 Edward 
 
 Yes ; but I woke in terror, 
 A stone upon my heart ; and since that hour 
 I cannot chase the melancholy fit. 
 
 Astrologer 
 
 Into the holy crystal I will gaze, 
 
 Although already I discern some meaning 
 
 In this, thy dream. [Fetches crystal. 
 
 O stranger, art thou sure 
 That thou would'st peer into futurity ? 
 
 [Gazes into crystal. 
 
 Edward 
 
 Yes, I am sure. And i£ untimely death 
 Be written in the book of fate, make haste. 
 Nor hesitate ; for I have faced great dangers. 
 And have looked Death so often in the face, 
 That I shall neither quiver nor draw back 
 From the cold touch of his imperious hand. 
 
 Astrologer {slowly turnmg from the crystal) 
 My son, thou needest all thy courage now. 
 
 Edward 
 Then it is worse than Death ? 
 
 75
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Astrologer 
 
 Art thou still sure 
 That thou would'st know ? 
 
 Edward 
 
 I pray you, make an end. 
 
 Astrologer 
 
 Then summon now thy courage, noble child ; 
 For in the crystal there were piteous sights : 
 Thou spakest of an ague in thy bones, 
 And of a creeping lassitude. My son. 
 Thou hast a mortal sickness ; that fell fever 
 Will never now depart. 
 
 Edward 
 
 Is there no more 
 Than this, Death's simple sentence ? We must all 
 Die on a certain day ; much better then 
 To fall in the full Hower and bloom of youth. 
 As though the new untarnished moon were torn 
 From the first hour of dusk, and never knew 
 The fulness and the majesty of midnight. 
 Leaving on earth remembered witchery, 
 And unassuaged regret. 
 
 [Jfter a fause, facing up and down in 
 rising excitement. 
 
 Then I die young. 
 And I shall meet the warriors of the past 
 
 76
 
 BLACK PRINCE e^f THE ASTROLOGER 
 
 Who fell like torches flaring for a moment 
 In the dark night. And foremost I shall meet 
 Balder, of whom my old nurse used to croon 
 A cradle-song ; the great and glorious god ; 
 The living sun ; the spirit of all youth, 
 Fated to meet eclipse and suffer darkness. 
 I shall meet Alexander, that swift soldier, 
 Blushing with glory like a rose of fire. 
 Achilles, splendid as a milk-white steed 
 Impatient for the battle ; I shall hear 
 Unhappy Roland blow his horn, and see 
 The lightning in the eyes of saddest Siegfried, 
 These shall I see, the brave, the fallen stars, 
 The young whom the gods loved. 
 
 Astrologer 
 
 No, Edward, no ! 
 [Edward starts. 
 Not for thee, Edward, Duke of Aquitaine, 
 And heir of England, Edward the Black Prince ; — 
 Not such a gift the Fates have stored for thee ; 
 For thee no boon of swift untimely death 
 Is kept. Thou shalt live on. 
 
 Edward 
 
 I cannot trace 
 Thy meaning, gentle sir ; I am in darkness. 
 
 Astrologer 
 My words shall be but few, since I must stab. 
 
 77
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Edward {seating himself) 
 Nay, tell mc ; even to the bitterest end. 
 
 Astrologer 
 
 Edward, thou shalt not die, but rather live ; 
 Yet neither shalt thou reach a mellow age 
 Of plenitude and ripeness. Pale disease 
 Shall linger by thy side, and thou shalt know 
 Eternal autumn to thy day of death. 
 There shall be battles fought and thou not there ; 
 Dangers to dare, and thou within the tent, 
 And foes to face, and thou upon thy couch, 
 The warhorse idle, and the sword undrawn ; 
 And from afar the voice of drums and trumpets 
 Shall call ; but thou shalt not obey the summons. 
 There shall be thunder of a thousand hoofs 
 Upon the plain ; and in the woodland aisles 
 The horn shall echo, and the hounds shall bay ; 
 Listless, thou wilt not heed : and thou shalt drink 
 The waters of despondent lassitude. 
 And taste the ashes of indifference ; 
 And from Despair thou shalt run out to Death, 
 But Death shall send thee to his child. Despair, 
 Denying thee his darkness, for a while. 
 For many weary years, as in thy dream. 
 And now thou knowest all. Thou hast been 
 
 brave ; 
 But there are fairer fields for bravery 
 Than Poitiers or than Crecy — to live on 
 With the foreknowledge of the nothingness, 
 
 78
 
 BLACK PRINCE ^ THE ASTROLOGER 
 
 Yet never to succumb unto despair ; 
 
 To bear in silence the deep wound of Fate. 
 
 Edward 
 Is there no more ? 
 
 Astrologer 
 
 That is the end. 
 
 Edward 
 
 I thank you— 
 I thank you for your pains, and say farewell. 
 The evil is sufficient for to-day. 
 
 79
 
 THE DEATH OF THE 
 BLACK PRINCE 
 
 [a scene from a play] 
 
 8l
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 Edward, the Black Prince. 
 Richard. {His Son.) 
 Princess Joan. {Ilis IVife.) 
 Lords and Barons. 
 Nurse.
 
 THE DEATH OF THE BLACK 
 PRINCE 
 
 A Room in Westminster. Priests are discovered 
 standing round the Black Prince^ who is lying 
 on a couch. His Nurse is sitting beside him. 
 As the curtain rises the -priests go out. 
 
 Edward 
 
 Oh ! I am well content 
 To die upon a Sunday and in summer. 
 Upon the high day o£ the Trinity 
 Which all my life I kept with solemn feast. 
 Sing to me, nurse : 
 
 Nurse sings 
 
 From the bleak sand and the grey sand 
 
 (O son o' mine., good-bye)^ 
 To the shore of gold and the cornland 
 
 To conquer or to die. 
 
 83
 
 JJ>RAMATIC POEMS 
 
 The low cloud and the grey cloud 
 
 (O son 6* mine, good-bye)^ 
 It hangs and lowers like a shroud 
 
 Across the blood-red sky. 
 
 The soft sound and the loved sound 
 
 (O son o' mine, good-bye) : 
 " Mother, I have a mortal wound," 
 
 It is my own son's cry. 
 
 The horn call and the glad call 
 
 (O son o' mine, good-bye) : 
 " Now dig the grave and weave the pall, 
 
 For I am soon to die." 
 
 The lone bell and the sad bell 
 
 (O son o' mine, good-bye) : 
 ** Tell them, mother, before I fell, 
 
 That I fought gallantly." 
 
 The known tread and the strong tread 
 
 (O son o' mine, good-bye) : 
 *' One told me you were cold and dead. 
 
 But I heeded not the lie." 
 
 By sunshine or by moonshine 
 
 (O son o' mine, good-bye) : 
 " Come back to me, O son o' mine, 
 
 I've waited patiently," 
 
 84
 
 THE DEATH OF THE BLACK PRINCE 
 
 The loud song and the strange song 
 
 (O son o' mijie^ good-bye) : 
 *' I've watched and waited now so long, 
 
 Come back before I die." 
 
 From the bleak sand and the grey sand 
 
 (0 son (?' mine, good-bye) : 
 To the shore of gold and the cornland, 
 
 To conquer or to die. 
 
 Edward 
 
 I wish to speak with my son Richard, now, 
 While yet my feeble utterance may be heard. 
 Open the doors, call hither all my men. 
 That I may thank them for their services ; 
 That they may swear allegiance to my son. 
 
 Enter Lords and Barons 
 
 Edward [To the Barons. 
 
 Sirs, it is strange that, when I was but young, 
 When I came home from Crecy, you would speak 
 Of times when I should prove myself a King, 
 Haply the greatest of my country's Kings, 
 And win large lands and many victories. 
 The victories I won : but where are they ? 
 All that we fought for has been lost again ; 
 My conquests are a half-forgotten dream. 
 
 8s
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Yet haply, but the bare names of my battles 
 May strike a spark in English hearts some day, 
 In the far future ; haply, hearts will beat 
 Quicker when they shall hear th(jse names but 
 
 spoken, 
 Poitiers and Crecy — faint and far away 
 It seems — as though the long wars had befallen 
 Some other man, not me. Yet now 1 die ; 
 I rail not at the past, and I would live 
 My life again, save the last shadowed years. 
 My death-knell rang on Navarette field. 
 Since then I have not lived, or lived in vain. 
 Sirs, you have served me loyally, and though 
 To each I cannot give his guerdon, God 
 By His most holy Name shall give it you. 
 I recommend to you my son ; as yet 
 He is but small, but, as you have served me, 
 So, from your heart, I pray you to serve him. 
 Call Richard and my wife : I wish to see them. 
 
 Enter Richard and Princess Joan 
 
 Edward 
 
 Joan, I have begged forgiveness for my sins, 
 
 I have been shriven by the holy priest : 
 
 My soul is clean ; I am prepared to die. 
 
 I die contented ; I leave little Richard, 
 
 Take care of him ; and thou, my son, remember 
 
 Thou had'st a father who did never know 
 
 A coward's heart, nor saw the face of fear ; 
 
 86
 
 THE DEATH OF THE BLACK PRINCE 
 
 Nor thought upon the whereabouts of Death ; 
 Whose motto was " High Spirit " ; who at one 
 
 time, 
 When God bereft him of his hopes and dreams, 
 His strength, his health, his power, his happiness. 
 Was tempted to surrender, to despair. 
 To make Death his ally ; but being a soldier. 
 Defeated, he deserted not the field. 
 While the fight lasted. Thus must thou do also ; 
 That, when thou diest, men may say of thee, 
 *' The Prince of chivalry in all the world, 
 Has left in no dishonourable wise 
 The lists, to go and slumber in his tent." 
 For though my lot in life was with the conquered, 
 I have yielded not till the hour of death ; 
 But now at last I may lay down my arms. 
 Hark ! a strange bugle-call that summons me. 
 Far-off from the dominion of the dead ! 
 Soon shall I pass into my kingdom, soon 
 Shall I assume my high inheritance. 
 Where there awaits no throne nor crown for me ; 
 Naught but the friend to whom I looked for help, 
 The sure friend and the strong, unfailing friend, 
 Who held aloof his hand and veiled his face ; 
 Now I shall feel the solace of that hand, 
 And gaze upon the glory of that face. 
 For Death, my friend, who shunned me for so 
 
 long. 
 Holds out his hand, and hides his face no more. 
 Can you not hear the roll of phantom drums .? 
 The noise of arms ? For now the sleeping dead, 
 
 87
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 The valiant dead who perished unafraid, 
 All stir to welcome me, and while I march 
 To Death's triumphant portal, I shall hear 
 The clash of ghostly arms and the strange bugle ; 
 But once within the silvery hall of dusk, 
 There will be no more noise. I shall forget 
 The rolling echoes of the battlefield. 
 At last I shall lie down among the dead, 
 And shut my eyes without the dread of dawn. 
 I, likewise, now, the heir of happiness. 
 Rich in my portion of the priceless gift, 
 Shall sleep beneath the radiant vault of peace, 
 Among the brave who lie for ever still. 
 
 88
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 A PLAY IN FIVE ACTS 
 
 TO H. B. 
 
 He Budt^iu OHU, ka!<f> epeMfl npo^erajio, 
 Bwea^io rpycTHO um-b. a ckyMHo hg 6biBa;io. 
 
 Note. — The subject-matter of this play is almost entirely taken 
 from M. Joseph Bidier' s compilation of the Tristram Legends
 
 DRAMATIS PERSOX/E 
 
 King Mark. {King of Cornwall.) 
 
 Tristram. (His Nephew.) 
 
 Andret. 
 
 Denoalen. 
 
 Duke Hoel. 
 
 The Duchess. (//;/ JViJe.) 
 
 Iseult of Brittany. (Their Daughter.) 
 
 Sir Kay Hedius. (/Lt Brother.) 
 
 A Hermit. 
 
 Griselda. (Iseult of Brittany's Lady.) 
 
 Persides. (Tristram's Page.) 
 
 Iseult the Fair. (King Mark's ff'i/^.) 
 
 Brangwaine. (Her Lady.)
 
 ACT I 
 
 Scene I — Hall in the Castle of Tintagel 
 
 King Mark 
 
 Tristram, my friend, thou who hast been to me 
 More than a son, say wherefore art thou sad ? 
 
 Tristram 
 King Mark, I am not sad. 
 
 King Mark 
 
 In olden days 
 Tintagel echoed with thy careless song. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Those days were long ago ; I was a boy ; 
 Since then so many crowded years have passed, 
 And I have wandered long and far away. 
 
 King Mark 
 Tristram, it hurts my heart to see thee sad. 
 
 91
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Let not the King heed Tristram ; I deserve 
 No passing thought, for fortune has bestowed 
 Too many gifts on me. 
 
 King Mark 
 
 O heart of gold ! 
 Tristram, my son, no gift wuuld be too great 
 For thee. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I pray thee bpeak not thus, O King. 
 
 [Horns sound. 
 King Mark 
 
 Hark ! the horn calls us ; wilt thou to the hunt? 
 
 Tristram 
 I come. 
 
 King Mark 
 Then let us follow the glad horn. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Iseult and Brancwaine 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 How mournful is the murmur of the sea ! 
 
 How heavy is the curtain of the sky ! 
 
 How dark the daylight and how cold the sun ! 
 
 92
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Brangwaine 
 I pray you, Queen, be governed. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Who can guess 
 The torment of my heart ? 
 
 Brangwaine 
 
 Alas ! too clear 
 Your fiery dream is written on your face. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 You know the sorrow that I nurse, but they, 
 How should they know ? 
 
 Brangwaine 
 
 When Tristram is not here 
 Listless and ghostly are the words you speak ; 
 Your soul is far away ; but when he comes. 
 You rise to life like some pale drooping flower 
 Refreshed by timely rain. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 You fancy this. 
 
 Brangwaine 
 
 Not I alone : all see the self-same thing — 
 Blind must they be to whom it is not clear. 
 
 93
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 When you and Tristram meet, they can but sec 
 Love, like a shadow following you ; and love 
 Burns in your eyes and trembles in your speech. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 What should I do ? 
 
 Brancwaine 
 
 Make of your face a mask. 
 And like a mummer strive to talk and smile 
 Before the Courtiers, and before the King. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 I try, but I forget ; and like a wave 
 
 The thought of Tristram sweeps mc far away. 
 
 Brancwaine 
 Queen, be advised, before it is too late. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 You know that it already is too late. 
 
 Brancwaine 
 
 Ay, truly vain it is to say " turn back " — 
 It is too late. There is no turning back. 
 
 94
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 I sought not Tristram's love ; I strove to hate ; 
 I hated him. 
 
 Brangwaine 
 
 How could you fight the fate 
 That lurk'd within the drink your mother brewed? 
 Blame me, for through my fault you drained the 
 
 cup, 
 The cursed draught made for the King and you. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 It was no fault of yours. 
 
 Sad sport of us. 
 
 Brangw^aine 
 
 Ah ! fate made sport, 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 And never till the day 
 We die shall Fate release us from the spell. 
 
 95
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Scene II. — Same Hall in the Castle. King Mark 
 is seated on his throne 
 
 Enter Andret and Denoalen 
 
 Andret 
 Wc claim an audience of the King. 
 
 King Mark 
 
 Speak on. 
 
 Andret 
 
 Our words, most gracious Mark, cannot but stir 
 Great wrath in you ; yet is our duty plain 
 To lay the unwelcome truth before your eyes. 
 Tristram, in whom you placed your heart and 
 
 faith, 
 Would shame you ; Tristram loves Iscull the 
 
 Queen. 
 
 King Mark 
 
 You lie ! Knaves, envy hath made black your 
 
 hearts. 
 'Tis true that Tristram holds my heart in pawn ; 
 The day the stranger challenged you to fight 
 Tristram encountered him and laid him low, 
 And red blood flowed from many a gaping wound ; 
 And that is why you hate him ; that is why 
 I love him. W hat is it you feign to know ? 
 
 96
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Andret 
 
 We see but what is plain ; what all men see ; 
 We only pray you, sir, to use your eyes ; 
 For haply even now 'tis not too late. 
 
 King Mark 
 Leave me, sirs. 
 
 [Exeunt Andret atid Denoalen. 
 [To Squire.] Send Sir Tristram here to mc. 
 
 Enter Tristram 
 
 King Mark 
 
 Tristram, make haste to leave these Castle walls, 
 Nor cross the moat again ; for men accuse thee 
 Of treachery ; ask me no question, friend, 
 I could not speak their hateful speech again 
 Without dishonour for us both ; nor seek 
 For soothing words ; I know they would be vain ; 
 Yet I believed them not ; if I believed 
 How could I look on thee and let thee live ? 
 Go. Mark, that loves thee, bids thee go, my son. 
 
 [Exit Tristram. 
 Some demon in my heart has sown a doubt. 
 
 H 97
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Scene III. — An Orchard. Night 
 Enter Tristram 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Iseult, far off from you I cannot stay, 
 I cannot live. And I have come again, 
 Though death and shame may wait for you and 
 
 me. 
 There is a bubbling spring that rises here 
 Beneath the shadow of this friendly pine ; 
 It wanders through the trees a running stream, 
 Between these grassy banks where cowslips 
 
 grow, 
 And reaches at the end the Castle yard. 
 I have cast shreads of bark upon the stream ; 
 Through the green orchard ihcy will wind their 
 
 way 
 And speak a silent message to Iseult, 
 And she will see, and understand, and come. 
 
 [^Pause. 
 A gentle ghost is flitting through the trees, 
 She touches but she tramples not the flowers ; 
 For she was made one with the springtime's 
 
 blossom, 
 A sister to the bending daffodil. 
 It is Iseult. 
 
 98
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Enter Iseult 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Upon the rippling stream 
 I saw the floating bark. And swift I came. 
 
 Tristram 
 There never was so sure a messenger. 
 
 Iseult 
 
 And though he whispers an unceasing tale, 
 He never tells the secret that he bears. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I breathed the secret to the spring ; it wells 
 Beneath this tree and fills the marble cirque, 
 O'ergrown with moss, with a clear silver film. 
 Hark, is the murmur mournful ? Is it glad ? 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Like all sweet things, it is both glad and sad. 
 The dancing wave, the laughing wind, the chime 
 Of bells, the shepherd's reed, the woodland horn. 
 The words of love we speak ; in all of these 
 There is a seed of sorrow. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 It is true ; 
 For every smile that like a sunbeam shines 
 Is followed by his shadow. 
 
 99
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Brightest things 
 Cast darkest shade. Such is our love, O friend. 
 
 Tristram 
 Yet think not of the shadow, but the sun. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 For us there is no sun. Like happy men 
 We cannot taste the laughing light of day ; 
 For us the day is cruel. Only here, 
 Beneath the branches of this silent tree, 
 We can be safe and still. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Then let us think 
 The world beyond the orchard is a dream. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 The moon has touched the slumber-scented trees ; 
 How dim, how frail the apple-blossom shines. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 The birds arc sleeping, and the noisy chough 
 Is far away. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 This morning, in the trees 
 I heard the cuckoo's cry ; but now he sleeps. 
 
 100
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Tristram 
 
 All happy creatures sleep, but you and I 
 Watch. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 In the wakeful darkness there is peace, 
 And silent sadness greater than all joy. 
 How still and strange the blue deeps of the trees ! 
 The silver air ! I feel a dreamy spell, 
 As though a wizard's wand, dipped in cool dew, 
 Had touched and changed us into ghostly leaves. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Or drowned our souls beneath the bubbling 
 spring. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Ay, it were sweet beneath the rippling water, 
 Captive in those cool liquid deeps, to dream. 
 Ah ! sad would be the music of the brook 
 If it were laden with our sighs. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 And they 
 Who heard it would weep tears of blessed joy. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 So Still it is ; listen, the very stream 
 Seems drowsily to mutter in his sleep. 
 
 lOI
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Haply the world beyond the orchard trees 
 Is but a lying dream, and this is true. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I touch your hand and wake from the world's 
 
 trance, 
 And only this is true. I come to life 
 When I am here beneath the silent tree. 
 With you ; but when I ^n, I fade away. 
 To wander like a phant(jm in the night ; 
 For all the world where you arc not is dim, 
 And all the dwellers in the world are ghosts. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Tristram, without you, empty is the world, 
 And blind I wander in the light of day. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 That is the lying dream : the truth is here 
 In every whispered word and silent kiss. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Tristram, my friend. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Iseult, Iseult, my life. 
 
 Iseult 
 Hold me and kiss me till the world shall end. 
 
 1 02
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Tristram 
 The world is dead — but we shall never die. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Or haply we have died, and the world lives 
 As far away, as silent as the moon ; 
 But thou art still my friend. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Iseult, my death ! 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Say not the sea-folk that Tintagel's towers 
 Are spellbound, and by magic melt away 
 Twice in the year ? That breathless hour has 
 
 come ; 
 Tintagel's walls have vanished, and these trees. 
 This orchard is the orchard of the song. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Whisper the story softly in my ear ; 
 Thy voice is sweeter than all song to me. 
 
 Iseult 
 
 It tells of a strange orchard, walled around 
 With wizard air and starred with shining flowers ; 
 There the frail blossom falls not from the tree. 
 And there the warrior wanders with his love. 
 
 103
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Nought can molest their dream, no enemy 
 Can break the wall of air. 
 
 [Dawn breaks. Trumpets sound. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 The wizard wall 
 Is shattered ; no, that orchard is not here ; 
 Nor shall we find its like upon the earth ; 
 But one day, I shall bear you, O my friend, 
 To the pale gardens where the minstrels sing. 
 Where flutes and harps for ever sigh and sound ; 
 Never the sun shines, but the dwellers there 
 Ask for no sunshine. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Take me thither, friend. 
 
 [Trumpet sounds again 
 
 Tristram 
 The trumpet calls us to the cruel day. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Farewell, my friend. 
 
 Tristram 
 Iseult, Iseult, farewell. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 God guard you ! O God guard and keep us both. 
 
 104
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Scene IV. — An orchard. Night 
 Enter King Mark and Andret 
 
 Andret 
 
 Hide yourself, sir, behind this pine-tree trunk ; 
 Soon will they come, and you shall slay me, sir, 
 If the Queen meets not Tristram on this spot. 
 
 Enter Tristram 
 
 Tristram 
 
 The moon is full, and like a silver thread 
 The stream winds glittering through the tangled 
 grass. 
 
 [He throws shreads of wood on to the stream 
 How swift the little ships float down the stream ; 
 They meet, they drift apart, they meet again. 
 They rise, they sink, like lives of men on earth ; 
 And at the end they reach tranquillity. 
 Where the bright fountain plashes on the stone. 
 
 [He sees the King's shadow 
 What is this phantom flitting through the trees ? 
 
 Enter Iseult, who also sees the King's shadow 
 
 IsEULT {Aside) 
 
 God grant that I may be the first to speak. 
 
 105
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Tristram ! What, have you dared, in such a place 
 At such an hour to wait for me ? All ! oft 
 You bade me come to heed your prayer, you said. 
 What is this prayer ? What dn you want of me ? 
 For I have come at last. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Yes, often. Queen, 
 I sent for you ; but always sent in vain ; 
 For since I have been banished by the King, 
 You have not deigned to heed my mournful call. 
 Have pity ! for the King now hateth me. 
 I know not why — haply you know the cause. 
 And who could calm his rage so well as you, 
 Gentle Iseult ? 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Oh ! know you not, the King 
 Suspects us of a shameful infamy ? 
 Must I, O shame ! reveal this news to you ? 
 He thinks that we are bound by guilty love. 
 God knows — and let him kill me if I lie — 
 That I have only loved one man. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I pray 
 That you may plead for me, O gentle Queen. 
 
 io6
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 He'd kill me if he knew that I was here. 
 
 Tristram 
 How came he to such thoughts ? 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 It was not he, 
 But traitors led him to believe this lie. 
 " They love," they said. 'Tis true you love me, 
 
 sir. 
 Have I not saved you twice from death, and I 
 Have loved you in return, for are not you 
 My kinsman ? 
 
 Tristram 
 Beg the King to pity me. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Tristram, you must not ask this thing of me. 
 The world's my foe, and should I say one word 
 I risk a shameful death. Ah ! may God help you. 
 So often have I whispered to this stream 
 My sorrow, and told my trouble to the leaves. 
 Ah ! it is sad, now all the world is joyous, 
 That I alone should hide a heavy heart. 
 Because my Lord suspects me of great wrong. 
 
 107
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Tristram 
 
 And I, when twilight steals upon the world, 
 Have often sat beside this mossy stone, 
 Where the spring rises. I have told my tale 
 To the clear water, and methinks its song 
 Has sighed a sadder burden since that day ; 
 And I have prayed the water-sprites to bear 
 The story of my sorrow to the King, 
 For it is clear and truthful as the stream. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 God help you, for the King has been deceived ; 
 I pray that he may pardon you. I go, 
 For I am fearful. I have stayed too long. 
 Farewell, O gentle sir. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Farewell, O Queen. 
 [Exeunt Tristram and Iseult 
 
 King Mark 
 
 Oh ! blessed be this hour ! Praise be to God ! 
 Tristram, my son, why did I doubt of you ? 
 
 108
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Scene V. — Iseult's Chamber. Night 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 I know not why, but I am cold with fear. 
 
 Enter Tristram 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Tristram ! Make haste to go ! Ah ! you are mad 
 To seek me in the chamber of the King ! 
 
 Tristram 
 
 The King has left the Castle these three hours. 
 He bade me start before to-morrow's dawn, 
 To take a written scroll to Carduel's King. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 It is deceit ! A traitorous stratagem. 
 
 Go ! quickly, go, before they find you here. 
 
 Tristram 
 How could I go, Iseult, nor say farewell ? 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 I, too, had grieved had you in silence gone. 
 But we have said farewell. Make haste to go, 
 I fear the traitors. 
 
 109
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Tristram 
 
 What is fear to us ? 
 
 Surely fear died upon that summer morn 
 We drank by chance from the same silver cup. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 The sail was flapping idly in the air. 
 
 Tristram 
 There was no land in sieht. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 And in the sky 
 No cloud. 
 
 Tristram 
 The drowsy mariners all slept. 
 
 Iseult 
 
 Only a seagull circled in the air 
 And cried a strange cold cry ; it made me shiver. 
 I thou^'ht the golden sea, the burning sky, 
 Must have turned grey ; but no, they had not 
 changed. 
 
 Tristram 
 The sea was like a glittering coat of mail. 
 
 I 10
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 And pitiless and cruel was the sun ! 
 
 I thought of the cool streams of my green home. 
 
 Tristram 
 You bade me fetch you water. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 It was wine 
 You brought. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Ah ! no, Ah ! no, it was not wine ; 
 But bitter bliss, and anguish without end, 
 Love, Death. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 I drank, and gave the cup to you. 
 
 Tristram 
 And then began the torment in my heart. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 For may days I strove to hate you still ; 
 I strove ; the ecstasy within my heart 
 Was bitterer than all anger then to me. 
 
 Ill
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Tristram 
 
 And for three days we spoke no word ; but ' 
 Was tortured and my heart was full of shame 
 During those days I dared not show my face 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 On the last day you sought me in my tent 
 You said to me, " What is it troubles you, 
 Iseult ? " 
 
 Tristram 
 
 And wildly then you cried to i 
 " This sky, this sea, my body and my life ! " 
 And your eyes filled with tears ; you laid ) 
 
 hand 
 Upon my arm. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 And once again you said 
 Softly : " Iseult, what is it troubles you ? " 
 
 Tristram 
 
 You looked at me ; and whispered " Lov€ 
 you." 
 
 Iseult 
 
 And you made silent answer. 
 
 112
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Tristram 
 
 With a kiss. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 angwaine then came and cried, " You drank of 
 
 death." 
 hile love and H£e leapt in our veins like fire ; 
 >u cried, " If this be death then let us die." 
 
 Tristram 
 
 breeze came with the sunset. I can hear 
 le lapping of the surge about the ship. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 id Brangwaine weeping in the silent night. 
 
 Tristram 
 can still see the hot midsummer sky. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 tie million stars that watched upon our love. 
 
 Tristram 
 hat white Star in the East, so still, so clear. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 he morning-star ! We thought it Hesperus. 
 I 113
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Tristram 
 
 So swiftly had the hours of darkness flown, 
 We thought that twilight lingered in the sky. 
 It was the dawn. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Tristram, it is the dawn ! 
 And all the night has in a moment passed. 
 
 Efiter King Mark, Andret 
 
 King Mark 
 
 Tristram, to-morrow you shall die : no prayer, 
 No vow, no word of protest will avail. 
 You and Iseult shall suffer the same death. 
 
 114
 
 ACT II 
 
 A Forest. Summer 
 
 Hermit 
 
 Tristram, a price is set upon your head. 
 The Barons swore to capture you alive 
 Or dead. Tristram, repent, for God forgives 
 The sinner who repents. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 But of what crime ? 
 
 Your lawless love. 
 
 Hermit 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Ah ! little do you know . 
 The truth, who judge us. Know you of the 
 
 wine 
 We drank together on the fatal ship ? 
 
 115
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 Hermit 
 
 God help you ! for the traitor's end is death ! 
 You have betrayed your King. Tristram, give 
 
 back 
 The Queen unto her lawful Lord. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 No more 
 Is he her Lord. She was condemned to death, 
 And we would both have perished at the stake, 
 Had I not broken loose and set her free. 
 
 Hermit 
 
 You cannot change the truth with subtle speech. 
 Repent : for he who lives in sin is dead. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I live and I repent not. This great wood 
 Shall keep us safe. Come, come to me, Iseult ! 
 
 [Exit Hermit 
 E7tter Iseult 
 
 Tristram 
 The Hermit bids me take you to the King. 
 
 Iseult 
 
 The world has lost us ; we have lost the world ; 
 How say you, Tristram ! 
 
 ii6
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Friend, so long as you 
 Are with me, what is there that I can wish ? 
 If all the stars and worlds were ours, I'd see 
 You only. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 I would think in days gone by 
 That peaceful happiness was not for us. 
 Yet in this forest we can taste of joy. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 And every hour unveils another bliss. 
 Hark to the tinkle of the running stream ! 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Hark to the rustle of the lime trees' leaves ! 
 It is a haunted tree, within whose heart 
 Some spirit dwells and whispers to the wind. 
 
 Tristram 
 The noon is humming his soft sleepy song. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 And far away I hear a shepherd's flute. 
 The tune is like a sunbeam to my heart- 
 
 117
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Tristram 
 
 The notes have died away upon the breeze, 
 And all is still. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Save where the woodpecker 
 Taps on the bole of some sequestered tree. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 This forest is our court. Its branches spread 
 A royal canopy above our heads. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Our courtiers are the purple butterflies. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Our squires and henchmen arc the wild brown 
 bees. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Our gems are drops of dew ; our gold the broom. 
 Lest wc should miss the shimmer of bright rubes 
 The darting kingfisher delights our eyes. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Our morning herald is the lark, the thrush 
 Our ballad-monger, and the whistling blackbird 
 Our llute-player. 
 
 ii8
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 The squirrel is our fool. 
 Our chapel lies in the dark forest aisle. 
 
 Tristram 
 Where the stream tells its rippling rosary. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 At Vespers incense rises from the pool. 
 
 Tristram 
 And fireflies are the tapers of the shrine. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 The nightingales the Ave Mary sing;. 
 
 Tristram 
 The noon is heavy : let us seek our cave. 
 
 119
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Scene II. — 7he Forest. Autumn 
 
 Hermit 
 
 How long, O Tristram, will this madness last ? 
 Have courage, take Iscult back to the King. 
 
 Tristram 
 Ask mc not this : f(jr it can never be. 
 
 Hermit 
 
 Have you no thought for her ? What piteous 
 
 plight 
 Is hers through you ? She, born to be a Queen, 
 Is now no better than a hunted beast. 
 What is her lot ? Instead of silken robes 
 And glittering courts, you give her this wild wood, 
 A cave, and roots to eat, the frost, the cold ; 
 All this for you she bears without a word. 
 Shame, shame upon you, Tristram ! Is not she 
 His bride, true wedded by the rite of Rome ? 
 
 \^Exit Hermit 
 
 Enter Iseult 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Your cheek is pale and wistful is your smile. 
 Iseult, tell, tell mc, if your heart be sad. 
 
 1 20
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Tristram, you know full well I am not sad. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Are you not wearied of this life, Iseult, 
 Of these rough days ? 
 
 Iseult 
 
 My friend is with me still : 
 I know not if the days be rough or fair. 
 
 Tristram 
 Nay, you are sad. 
 
 Iseult 
 
 To see the swallows fly, 
 To see the faded leaves fall one by one ; 
 And sad because I know that what is fled 
 Shall never be again. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Already sown 
 Are golden seeds of blissful hours to be. 
 
 Iseult 
 
 But this long dream can never be again : 
 The first free wanderings in the leafy wood : 
 Those hours are dead. Tristram, methinks that 
 
 you 
 Have sadder thoughts than I. 
 
 121
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Iscult, my joy, 
 How can the sun give darkness ? 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 You are sad. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I grieve to see you beaten by the wind, 
 To see you sleep upon the rugged ground. 
 Iseult, when winter comes, what shall befall ? 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 When winter comes we in the hermit's cave, 
 Beside the blazing boughs, shall little heed 
 The storms ; the snow shall be our coverlet. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Yet my heart aches for you. I fear you hide 
 Your grief. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 One thing alone can sadden me : 
 To see that you are mournful. O my friend, 
 Great is my happiness if you are glad. 
 Only I fear lest you be wearied now 
 Of loneliness and of this savage wood. 
 
 122
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Tristram 
 
 There where my daylight is, my life, my joy. 
 There is no loneliness. One thought is dark : 
 To think the happiness must have an end. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 It shall not end. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I know the end must come ; 
 We never shall be free from our dark fate. 
 Free on the earth like other happy men. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Think not of what has been, nor what shall be, 
 But say you are not changed. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Iseult, my life ! 
 Iseult 
 
 Enough. Tristram, my friend, it is enough. 
 
 Enter Hermit 
 
 Tristram 
 
 It is the holy hermit. Speak with him. 
 
 [Exit Tristram. 
 
 123
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Hermit 
 Iseult, God bids thcc seek thy lawful lord. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Forsaking Tristram ? No, it cannot be. 
 
 Hermit 
 
 It shall be, if your love is great enough. 
 Sh(juld Tristram live an outcast in the woods ? 
 Tristram, the brave, the great adventurous Knight. 
 Tristram, who in the Castle of a King 
 Should live surrounded by a hundred squires. 
 He who should visit the great fields of war, 
 And run at tilt in tourneys with the brave. 
 For you he leaves the world ; for you he roams, 
 An outlaw wandering homeless in a wood. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 O hermit, leave mc, for you tear my heart. 
 
 124
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Scene III. — Another part of the Forest. Autuntfi. 
 On one side of the Stage is the Hermit's Cave 
 where Iseult is lying asleep 
 
 Enter King Mark 
 
 King Mark 
 
 They told me that within a leafy cave 
 A shining fairy slumbered in a trance. 
 
 [He walks to the cave and sees Iseult 
 Iseult ! Oh ! canst thou live and be so fair ? 
 Thy face and features wear the blessed peace, 
 The radiant smile that lights the happy dead ; 
 And yet thou art alive, for wert thou dead, 
 Thy cheek would not be tinged like a soft rose ; 
 Inscrutable and wondrous is thy smile ; 
 Oh ! would to God thy heart were innocent ! 
 
 Enter Hermit 
 
 I found Iseult the Queen in this thy cave ; 
 Now tell me where is Tristram's hiding-place ? 
 
 Hermit {Aside) 
 
 Praise God ! I will fulfil the work of peace. 
 \Jo King] O King, Sir Tristram dwells not in 
 
 this cave, 
 But far away in the deep forest's heart ; 
 And only when Iseult has fallen asleep 
 
 125
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 He ventures here and feeds his gaze awhile 
 
 Upon her sleeping form, and when she stirs 
 
 He flies into the thickets of the woods. 
 
 And ofttimes, when the sun beats on her face, 
 
 He shields her from its rays with shady leaves. 
 
 And, as he gazes, tears bedim his eyes ; 
 
 But never comes he here at other times, 
 
 Lest he should do dishonour to his King. 
 
 Has he not sworn his innocence t(j thee, 
 
 O King ? thou didst not deign to heed his word. 
 
 King Mark 
 
 Speak you the truth ? Dark, dark has been my 
 
 fault. 
 Great-hearted Tristram, must my meaner heart 
 For ever doubt of you and be deceived ? 
 But I am ready to set rit^'hi the wrong. 
 See, I will signify my \\ill : I take 
 This ring from Iseult's finger, in its stead 
 I place my own, the ring she gave to mc, 
 And when she wakes my message will be clear. 
 
 [Exit King Mark 
 
 Her 
 
 MIT 
 
 God, forgive the lie upon my lips, 
 
 1 spoke the falsehood in the cause of peace. 
 
 [IsEULT awakes 
 
 126
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Enter Tristram 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 I dreamt that one was watching while I slept, 
 And, while he watched, he wept, then he bent 
 
 down. 
 And took away my ring, and in its place 
 He put his own. Look you upon my finger. 
 The ring is changed, Hermit. It is the ring 
 I gave King Mark upon our bridal day. 
 Who hath done this ? 
 
 Hermit 
 
 The King himself was here 
 And wept for pity as he gazed on you. 
 His heart is full of sorrow, he believes 
 The oath of innocence that Tristram swore. 
 He minds how he condemned you both unheard. 
 And now his only wish is to forgive. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Forgive ! Ah ! who could pardon such a fault 
 Without ignobleness ? No, Hermit, no ; 
 But he remembers how, a little child, 
 I, at his feet, played on a golden harp ; 
 He minds how oft my blood has flowed for him ; 
 The oath I swore, the judgment that I claimed ; 
 He cannot guess the riddle of our lives ; 
 He doubts, he hopes ; now he will let me prove 
 My words in combat ; — I must then give back 
 Iseult. O wherefore did he come ? Before 
 
 127
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 I could feel hate for him, but by his deed 
 He stirs the old compassion in my heart. 
 
 Hermit 
 
 Tristram, be brave and bring the Queen to him wi 
 Tristram, the time has come to take the Queen 
 From this wild forest and this savage life. 
 
 Tristram 
 What thinkcst thou, Iseult ? 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 What passcth speech ; 
 Yet if you will it so, so let it be, 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Then holy hermit, heed ; I will obey ; 
 
 Help me to make agreement with the King. 
 
 Go back, Iseult, and I will leave this land, 
 
 I will to Brittany, and if one day 
 
 The King should call me, I will come once more. 
 
 Iseult 
 
 It is so willed, it must be, and although 
 I do not now repent me that I loved 
 Tristram, and that I love him ; still from now 
 Our lives must be divided, though my heart 
 Shall never leave his heart. 
 
 128
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Hermit 
 
 O praised be God ! 
 The King is hunting in the wood to-day; 
 I will to him and bring him here to you. 
 
 [Exit Hermit 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Iseult, Iseult, dark is this hour of grief ! 
 It is the bitter end of the sweet cup. 
 
 Iseult 
 
 Nay, not the end. And was not the first drop 
 Bitter and sweet as is the last ? For us 
 There is no end, but we, until we die. 
 Shall drift together like two floating leaves 
 Upon a running stream ; never for long 
 Together, never parted utterly. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Like the small shreads of bark I used to cast 
 Upon the orchard stream in days gone by ; 
 Yet now our parting must be long. 
 
 Iseult 
 
 A night. 
 Lingering and dark perchance, but dawn will 
 come. 
 
 K 129
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Tristram 
 
 There may be glimpses at the dawn and dusk 
 For us ; but \vc shall never more be free 
 To wander throughout all the careless day. 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Till Death ; then, in the night or in the day, 
 Together, unmolested, we shall roam. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Not yot, Iseult : that hour has not yet come ; 
 And oh ! the bitter grief to lose you now ! 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Take this green ring and wear it for my sake ; 
 And should you ever send this ring to mc, 
 No walls, no chains, no bars, nor stern command 
 Shall keep me from fulfilling my friend's wish. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 God bless the ring and her that gave it me. 
 How shall I live without her ? 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Fate has bound 
 Our lives together and I dare not think 
 How I shall live ; but this alone I know, 
 My heart will follow you o'er all the world. 
 
 130
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Tristram 
 
 O friend, I go. I know not to what land ; 
 But should I ever send you the green ring, - 
 Will you fulfil the wish that it shall bear ? 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 Thou knowest well no walls, no chains, no bars 
 Shall keep me from fulfilling thy heart's wish, 
 Be it wisdom or mad folly. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 God be good 
 To you ! 
 
 ISEULT 
 
 God guard you always, O my friend ! 
 Enter King Mark, Andret, Hermit and Barons 
 
 Tristram 
 
 O K'ug, I give you back Iseult the Fair ; 
 And I stand here to prove to all the world 
 In combat that I never loved the Queen 
 With guilty love, that had offended you. 
 Deceived by traitors you had had us burnt 
 Untried, unheard, had God not pitied us ; 
 No hearing was I given. Let me now 
 Be judged, and let me justify myself 
 
 131
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 In battle. And if vanquished, kill me, sir, 
 If victor, let me serve you as before. 
 
 Andret {Aside to the King) 
 
 Sir, heed my counsel. Wrongly evil tongues 
 Spake slander of the Queen, yet if Sir Tristram 
 Returns to Court, those tongues will speak once 
 more. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Who will accept my challenge ? 
 
 [SiUnce 
 There is none 
 Who dares. O King, you speak no word to me. 
 Take back the Queen. And I will leave you. Sir, 
 And seek a far-off country ; Brittany 
 Or Wales. 
 
 King Mark 
 
 My son, O whither will you go 
 Thus ragged, thus unbannered ? Here is gold. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 King, I will take no single piece of silver, 
 But, as I am, I shall in distant lands 
 Offer my service to some alien King. 
 
 [£a'z7 Tristram 
 
 n2
 
 ACT III 
 
 Scene I. — Iseult's Room ifi Ttntagel 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 
 Brangwaine, I know not why, but these last 
 
 days 
 There have been moments when my heart seemed 
 
 light, 
 As though my pain had melted quite away. 
 
 Brangwaine 
 Time heals the bitter wounds of fate. 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 
 Ah,, no ! 
 A million centuries might o'er me roll 
 And undiminished would my sorrow be. 
 
 Brangwaine 
 
 And yet you say your heart seems light at 
 times. 
 
 133
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 
 It is since Tristram sent me the small bell, 
 The silver bell that hangs about my neck. 
 I wear it now ; strange when I hear it tinkle, 
 A sudden ray of sunshine warms my heart. 
 And I am sad no more. 
 
 Brangwaine 
 
 It is his gift. 
 The thought of Tristram makes life sweet to you, 
 Whene'er you listen to that little bell. 
 
 [IsEULT takes off the bell 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 
 Hark to its silver sound ! Ah ! I could cry 
 For joy ! I feel a gladness in my heart. 
 
 Brangwaine 
 It is the thought of Tristram. 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 
 \av, that thought 
 Would rather bring mc pain. 
 
 Brangwaine 
 
 They say the bell 
 Was brought by Merlin from Avilion's Isle. 
 
 U4
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 
 The bell is faCry ! He has sent it me 
 That I might lose my sorrow and forget. 
 I will not taste of comfort while my friend 
 Suffers. He might have kept the magic solace. 
 He kept the sorrow and he gave the joy. 
 It shall not be. For Tristram, I will suffer 
 As well as you, so long as you are sad. 
 I cast you, cursed bell, into the sea ! 
 
 [Goes to the zuindow 
 Brangwaine, 'tis true : a curtain veils the sun : 
 And in my heart the ancient sorrow aches. 
 
 Scene II. — Hall in the Castle of Carhaix, Brittany 
 Iseult with the white hands, and Duchess Hoel 
 
 Duchess 
 Thy bridal robe is almost ready, child. 
 
 Iseult of Brittany 
 
 When will the feast be ? for the days pass by 
 But Tristram never speaks of it to me. 
 
 Duchess 
 
 Methinks he loves you well, and that his days 
 Pass wondrous sweetly, like a dream of bliss. 
 
 135
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 Haply he loves me : dreamy is his mood : 
 It is as though his mind were far away. 
 
 Duchess 
 
 And yet he loves you. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 He is kind to me. 
 And when the Minstrels sing of me in song, 
 His face lights up with a strange wistful smile. 
 
 Duchess 
 
 He loves the Minstrelsy ? 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 He luves the song 
 " Iseult " the Minstrels made upon my name. 
 
 Duchess 
 
 He is a warrior. It is sweet for him 
 
 To rest and bask in a soft dream of love : 
 
 He fears to break the spell. 
 
 Iseult of Brittany 
 
 Yet sometimes, Mother, 
 It seems as though I were a ghost to him. 
 He gazes through me on the vacant air. 
 
 136
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Duchess 
 That is love-sickness. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 Sometimes, too, methinks, 
 He seems to listen to a hidden voice ; 
 To gaze upon a shape I cannot see. 
 
 Duchess 
 
 That is but love that rises up to you, 
 
 Like a great cloud of incense, from his heart. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 Is it for me ? 
 
 Duchess 
 
 For whom else could it rise ? 
 Why has he lingered if he loved you not 
 After he drove away the enemy ? 
 And when your father offered him your hand, 
 He could have answered " No " and left our land, 
 But it was plain he loved you from the first. 
 
 Iseult of Brittany 
 I thought he looked on me with loving eyes. 
 
 Duchess 
 
 I mind the day your brother brought him here, 
 Into our chamber, as we worked and sang. 
 
 137
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 " This is Iseult," your brother said, and Tristram 
 Smiled a strange smile, and softly said " Iseult ! " 
 
 Eiiter Tristram 
 
 He comes. I leave you, child, alone with him. 
 
 [Exit Duchess 
 
 Iseult or Brittany 
 
 Good-morrow, Tristram. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Hail ! little Iseult. 
 What is the robe you work with your fair hands ? 
 
 Iseult of Brittany 
 It is my bridal veil. 
 
 Tristram 
 Our wedding ? Strange ! 
 
 Iseult of Brittany 
 Why strange, my Lord ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Nay, nay, it is not strange. 
 Yet it is strange that I, in Brittany, 
 Should wed : so far away from Cornwall's shores 
 Where I have lived. 
 
 138
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 Why left you Cornwall's shores ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 To seek adventure, for I always loved 
 To wander. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 O'er the plains and in the woods. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Long, long ago I wandered in a wood : 
 For days which seemed like months, for months 
 like years. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 Were you alone ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I had a faithful friend. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 Where is he now ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Gone, gone, I know not where. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 When is our marriage day ? 
 
 139
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Whene'er the Duke 
 Decrees. I shall be ready ; but these days 
 Are soft and pleasant as a summer dream. 
 I would not break the spell of the still hours. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 Tliink you the clarions of the wedding feast 
 Will break the spell ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Perchance they'll bring to us 
 Another dream, more sweet, a longer dream. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 You love to dream. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 In slumberous forest lands 
 They rocked me to the sound uf a sad sea. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 Is it as fair a land as Brittany ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Just such a land. Another Brittany ; 
 The woods are darker and the billow's song 
 Is sadder. 
 
 140
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 Ah ! the sadness of that sea 
 Is in your eyes. You must have tasted grief, 
 Once, long ago. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 So long ago, that now 
 It seems as though it had not ever been. 
 
 Iseult of Brittany 
 Tell me your tale of grief. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 There is no tale, 
 Some birds there are who twitter merrily, 
 Others who sing a plaintive song ; of such 
 Was I ; for I was born in grief. 
 
 Iseult of Brittany 
 
 But now 
 You feel no grief ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 My grief was long ago. 
 Now I am lapped in stillness and content. 
 
 Iseult of Brittany 
 And love ? 
 
 141
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Trisiram 
 Oh ! yes, and love, gentle Iseult. 
 
 Enter the Duke 
 
 The Duke 
 
 The marriage feast shall be to-morrow's morn, 
 If such your pleasure. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I am ready, sir. 
 To wed your child Iseult before the priest. 
 
 [Exeunt Duke a?id Iseult of Brittany 
 
 Enter Persides 
 
 Persides 
 To-morrow the wedding feast shall be held. 
 
 Tristram 
 So they have told me. 
 
 Persides 
 
 Are you ready, Sir ? 
 
 Tristram 
 Ready for what ? 
 
 142
 
 " TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Persides 
 
 To wed Duke Hoel's child. 
 Oh ! Httle did we dream in days gone by 
 That you would wed Iseult of Brittany. 
 
 Tristram 
 Devious and strange is the dark path of Fate. 
 
 Persides 
 Mind you the orchard by Tintagel's tower ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 It seems as though I had been dead since then, 
 And all those years are like the shadowy ghosts 
 That roam beyond the dark forgetful stream. 
 
 Persides 
 And are you happy, Sir ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I know not, boy. 
 I am not sad, and tranquil is my heart. 
 Yet all is strange to me ; this life, this Castle, 
 Iseult of Brittany. Is this a dream ? 
 And have I died and found another world ? 
 
 Persides 
 It is no dream. 
 
 143
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I feel that I am borne 
 Gently upon a river to the sea, 
 To a wide ocean of content and calm. 
 
 Persides 
 Perchance a storm awaits you on that sea. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I know not ; but I know that it is sweet 
 To drift upon the flood and to forget. 
 
 Persides 
 Have you forgotten ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 All is strange and dim ; 
 I am secure in the strong hand of Fate ; 
 I feel as though, from a long fever freed, 
 I looked with dreamy eyes on a new world. 
 
 Persides 
 
 Know you this song ? It is a lullaby. 
 
 Sings 
 An orchard grows beyond the sea, 
 
 Encircled by a u^all of air ; 
 The blossom falls not from the tree, 
 
 The earth smells sweetly there. 
 
 144
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Two lovers dream within that wall, 
 The night it lasts forever there ; 
 
 For in the dawn no bugle-call 
 Can break that wall of air. 
 
 Tristram 
 Haply I heard it in the days gone by. 
 
 Scene III. — Iseult of Brittany's Room. Wedding 
 Procession, with Torches, passes across the 
 stage 
 
 Enter Tristram and Iseult of Brittany 
 
 Iseult of Brittany 
 
 It is a wondrous night, the sea is singing 
 
 A lullaby of love ; was ever night 
 
 As soft and warm as this on Cornwall's shores ? 
 
 Tristram 
 Yes, often there the nights were soft and warm. 
 
 Iseult of Brittany 
 And there you used to wander in the woods ? 
 
 Tristram 
 Ah, yes ! 
 
 L 145
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 To seek adventure, to set free 
 Captives, and to deliver lovely Queens ? 
 
 Tristram 
 I never met but with one lovely Queen. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 What was her name ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 The self-same name as thine, 
 *' Iscult." 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 Did you deliver this Iseult ? 
 From whom ? and how ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 A King had sentenced her 
 To death : he thought that she was false to him. 
 
 Iseult of Brittany 
 Had she been false ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Nay, she was never false. 
 146
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 You set her free, and then ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 And then she fled. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 Alone ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 A faithful slave had followed her. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 And what became of her ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 The King forgave, 
 And she returned and dwelt with him in peace. 
 
 Iseult of Brittany 
 And did she give you no reward, no gift ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I asked for no reward. What should she give ? 
 Nay, it is true, bidding farewell, one gift 
 She gave. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 What gift ? 
 
 147
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Tristram 
 
 A ring ; I had forgot. 
 But see, it is upon my finger still — 
 This little jasper hoop that glitters green. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 Give me that ring ! 
 
 Tristra 
 
 M 
 
 You have the ring I gave 
 Before the priest. 'Tvvould not be meet to change. 
 [Tristram goes to the window and gazes out 
 on to the sea 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 Tristram, my Lord, what is it ails you .'* Speak — 
 Come to me : seal our marriage with a kiss. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Iseult, I pray you be not wrath with me ; 
 
 But long ago I made a solemn vow — 
 
 I was in dreadful peril in a battle, 
 
 When, mindful of the Blessed Virgin*s name, 
 
 I vowed, that if She saved me from the peril, 
 
 I would, when wedded, let a whole year pass 
 
 Before I gave and took the wedding kiss. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 So be it ! Oh, my Lord : fulfil thy vow ! 
 
 148
 
 ACT IV 
 
 Hall in Tintagel. King Mark and Iseult are 
 seated on two Thrones surrounded by Courtiers 
 
 Enter Tristram disguised as a Madman 
 
 Courtier 
 A crazy madman, Sir, has come to Court. 
 
 King Mark 
 Let the mad fool approach. 
 
 \They lead him to the King 
 Welcome, Sir friend. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Hail ! best and noblest of all Kings ; I knew 
 My heart would melt if I should see thy face. 
 
 King Mark 
 What seek you here, Sir fool ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I seek Iseult ; 
 Iseult the Fair I loved in days gone by. 
 I bring you, sir, my sister ; let us change : 
 For the Queen wearies you, give her to me. 
 
 149
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 King Mark 
 
 And whither would you take Iseult, the Queen ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Beyond the clouds and far above the sun ; 
 To where my castle with the filmy walls 
 Hangs like an opal in the morning air. 
 
 Courtiers 
 The madman speaketh well. 
 
 King Mark 
 
 What made thee hope 
 The Queen would heed a crazy fool like thee .? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I have the right to hope. I for her sake 
 Have suffered many things, and lost my wits. 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 Who art thou, Madman ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I no longer know ; 
 But in the days gone by I was a Minstrel ; 
 I loved the moon, and all night long I sang 
 Louder and sweeter than the nightingale. 
 Song made me mad at last. 
 
 150
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 
 What is thy name ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 " Wanderer," for I have wandered o'er the world, 
 And seen the dark dominions of the dead ; 
 There on the sable throne a pallid Queen 
 Sits crowned with flowers that grew by streams 
 
 of dusk ; 
 Her eyes are sadder than the withered flowers, 
 And sad and listless is her silent smile. 
 
 King Mark 
 
 Spake you with her ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I sang her a soft song 
 Of a strange orchard walled about with air, 
 Where yellow daffodils upon the grass 
 Are sprinkled thick like stars ; and when I sang 
 She wept, for she remembered flowers like those. 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 Sing us the song. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I have forgotten it ; 
 And there is no more song within my heart. 
 
 151
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 Know you the ballad of the jasper ring ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 A thousand ballads echo in my brain ; 
 I cannot sing ; the lute within my heart 
 Is broken, and its strings can only wail ; 
 Yet, long ago, I loved the silver moon ; 
 She came to earth and kissed me while I slept. 
 It was a foolish thing to love the moon. 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 Then it was love that made you mad ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Not love 
 Alone ; I was enchanted by a spell. 
 I sailed upon the broomstick of a witch 
 Who willed that wheresoever I should go 
 Her name should haunt me like a jingling bell ; 
 I could not rid me of the silver sound 
 That tinkled in my heart : it made me mad. 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 What was the witch's name ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 It was Iseult. 
 152
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall {To King) 
 
 Was ever there so mad a loon ? 
 
 \To Tristram] They say- 
 There was a wizard in Avilion's Isle, 
 Who bore around his neck a faCry bell ; 
 And they who heard its sound forgot their grief. 
 Know you of this ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Once, it was long ago, 
 I met a knight who had a faery bell ; 
 He gave it to his lady-love, and she 
 Forgot him. 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 
 Thou dost lie ! 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Know you the Knight ? 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 
 How should I know him, crazy fool ? and yet 
 Thou shalt not blame a woman here. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Iseult, 
 O give me back my wits you stole away, 
 When in the guise of the bright moon you lived. 
 Give me the wits you stole a second time, 
 When you bewitched me with a haunting name. 
 
 153
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 King, bid this fool begone ; he wearies me. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 O ! see you not the Queen is smit with love ? 
 Mark you how pale she is, how bright the 
 
 flame 
 That glistens in her eyes. She is a witch ! 
 O, burn her at the stake, King Mark, for she 
 Would shame you for the love of a mad fool. 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 O cursed madman, you arc crazed with wine. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 'Tis true that I am crazed ; but with a wine 
 
 Whose bitter fumes will never die away. 
 
 O Queen, can you recall that summer noon ? 
 
 The sail was flapping idly in the air ; 
 
 There was no land in sight, the sailors slept. 
 
 The sea was gold ; the sky was hot like fire, 
 
 And you were thirsty ; have you quite forgot ? 
 
 We drank together of the self-same cup. 
 
 Since then I have been maddened with that wine. 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 Sir, drive this man away. I will not hear him.
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 King Mark 
 
 Wait : let us hear his madness to the end. 
 Say, fool, what canst thou do ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I play the harp, 
 And in the forest like a thrush I sing. 
 And in the orchard like a nightingale. 
 I can slay dragons, kill false-hearted Knights, 
 Throw shreads of bark upon the running stream ; 
 Love Queens, and live on berries in a wood. 
 Am I not. Sir, a goodly minstrel ? See ! 
 
 [He belabours the Courtiers with his stick 
 
 ISEULT OF CORNVV^ALL 
 
 Sir, I am weary ; let me seek my room. 
 I can no longer hear this noisy fool. 
 
 King Mark 
 
 'Tis we will leave you. Follow us, mad fool, 
 And show your skill in sport and song. 
 [Exeu7it King Mark, Tristram, aiid Courtiers 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 
 Brangwaine ! 
 Brangwaine ! My heart is sick with hope and 
 
 fear ; 
 A fool, a madman, has been here, and he 
 
 155
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Must be a wizard, for he knows my life. 
 The secret things none know but you and I ; 
 
 Unless 
 
 Brancwaine 
 Unless 'tis Tristram ! 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 
 Oh, the hope ! 
 The fear ! If it be he, how dares he come 
 And risk a shameful death ? 
 
 Brancwaine 
 
 Queen, calm thyself : 
 Haply this man is Tristram's messenger. 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 
 Go, bring him hither ; I will to my chamber ; 
 Fetch me, if haply what you think be true. 
 [Exit IsEULT. Exit Brancwaine and returns 
 zuith Tristram 
 
 Tristram 
 Brangwaine, Brangwaine, have pity upon me ! 
 
 Brancwaine 
 Madman, what demon taught my name to you ? 
 
 156^
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Ah ! long ago, Brangwaine, I learnt your name, 
 
 And if my wits have left me it is you 
 
 Who are the cause ; for should you not have 
 
 guarded 
 The poison that I drank upon the sea ? 
 Out of a silver cup, in the great heat 
 I drank, and gave the goblet to Iscult ; 
 Brangwaine, can you recall that breathless hour ? 
 
 Brangwaine 
 No! 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Pity, pity on me ! 
 
 Enter Iseult of Cornwall 
 
 Pity, Queen ! 
 [He opens his arms to embrace Queen ; she 
 shrinks^ shuddering^ from him 
 
 [Exit Brangwaine 
 Tristram 
 
 Ah ! truly I have lived a day too long, 
 
 For I have been rejected by Iseult. 
 
 She spurns and shrinks from me. Iseult ! Iseult ! 
 
 Slow to forget is he who loveth well. 
 
 Iseult of Cornwall 
 I doubt ! I am afraid ! I do not know ! 
 
 157
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Iscult, I am that Tristram whom you loved, 
 Who loved you for so long. Have you forgot 
 The shrcads of bark I cast upon the stream ? 
 The friendly shadow of the tall pine tree ? 
 The orchard like the orchard of the song ? 
 Have you forgot the forest where we dwelt ? 
 Our Courtiers that were purple butterflies. 
 Our gems the dewdrops, and our gold the 
 
 broom. 
 The blackbird was our minstrel all day long ; 
 At dusk, in the dark aisle by fireflies lit. 
 The nightingales our " Ave Mary " sang. . . . 
 She speaks no word. Ah ! will she know this 
 
 ring ? ^ 
 The little jasper ring she gave to me. 
 No walls, she said, no bars, no stern command 
 Will keep me from fulfilling my friend's wish. 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 O ! Tristram, take me : I am here for thee. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 But why were you so long to know me, 
 
 friend ? 
 What is the ring .'' It had been sweeter far 
 If you, but by the memories of our love. 
 Had known me. 
 
 158
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 
 Sooner than you spoke I knew. 
 Think you I did not know your sad, sad eyes ? 
 I knew ; but, Tristram, I was sick with fear ; 
 For enemies surround me on all sides. 
 I thought that haply an enchanter's spell 
 Deceived me, that some foe was mocking me. 
 I knew, yet dared not know, that it was you ; 
 I trembled lest my heart should lend them sight, 
 I feared ; I waited for the jasper ring. 
 And, now I see the ring, I yield to you ; 
 I swore to do what you should wish, O friend, 
 If I should see that ring, and here am I: 
 Wisdom be it or folly, take me now. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Know you, Iseult, why I have sought you here, 
 Disguised in this wild garb ? I came, Iseult, 
 Because I know the hour of Death is nigh : 
 I know that I shall perish far away 
 From you, and banished from my heart's desire. 
 I know the hour of Death is almost come. 
 
 Iseult of Cornwall 
 
 Hold me and kiss me, so that our two hearts 
 May break, and that our souls may fly away. 
 Oh ! take me to the far-off land of bliss 
 Of which you used to tell me long ago : 
 To the green orchard walled with wizard air. 
 
 159
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Yes, I will take you to the land of bliss. 
 
 The hour is nigh. Have we not drained the 
 
 dregs 
 Of bitter misery and bitter joy ? 
 The whole of happiness, the whole of grief ? 
 The hour is nigh when all shall be fulfilled ; 
 If I should call you, will you come to me ? 
 
 IsEULT OF Cornwall 
 Call me, my friend ; you know that I will come. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 God bless you, friend, for this, your loving 
 thought. 
 
 Enter Heralds, Courtiers, King Mark, Is^c. 
 
 Heralds blow their trumpets 
 
 King Mark {To Iseult of Cornwall) 
 
 Fair Queen, the King of Carducl, with his 
 
 Knights 
 Is here ; come, let us go to welcome him. 
 
 [He takes Iseult by the hand and leads her to 
 the door, followed by the Barons and the 
 Courtiers 
 
 1 60
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 A Squire (To Tristram) 
 
 Fool, heard you not that Carduel's King had 
 
 come ? 
 Your place is with the beggars and the dogs ; 
 Get hence. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 'Tis fruitless toil to banish me, 
 For here my task is finished to the end. 
 
 M i6i
 
 ACT V 
 
 Scene I. — Castle of Carhaix 
 
 Duchess Hoel 
 
 My child, what ails you ? Listless, sad, and pale 
 You seem to me. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 Have I not cause for care, 
 Since to-day Tristram leaves me for the fight ? 
 
 Duchess 
 
 What is the fight to him ? He all his life 
 Has fought ; and on the earth he has no peer. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 Yet it is sad for me to say farewell. 
 Last night I dreamed that Tristram came to me. 
 Back from the battle, crowned with leaves of fire ; 
 And from his forehead, darker than a ruby. 
 The red blood dropped, and he was pale as death, 
 I cried, but oh ! he paid no heed to me ! 
 
 162
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Duchess 
 My child, this is but folly. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 It is true ; 
 But I am foolish, for my love is great. 
 
 Duchess 
 
 See, it is he : he comes to say farewell. 
 
 [Exit Duchess 
 Etiter Tristram 
 
 Tristram 
 The hour has come to say farewell, Iseult. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 But when wilt thou return ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Soon, soon, Iseult, 
 Unless I fall in battle. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 God forfend . 
 
 Tristram 
 
 It were a goodly death. 
 
 163
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 ISEULT OF BrI'ITANY 
 
 O, speak not thus. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 It were a goodly death to fall in battle ; 
 Yet have no fear, for I shall soon return. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 Tristram, my Lord, I am a foolish child. 
 In everything I would fulfil thy wish ; 
 But one thing I desire : I pray you stay, 
 And go not to this fight. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I gave my word. 
 Iseult, I swear thy fears are foolishness. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 This is the only boon that I have craved. 
 The only gift I need. If in your heart 
 There be a little love, I beg you stay. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Iseult, my little lily-handed child, 
 
 I swore to meet this foe ; my word is pledged. 
 
 I swear to you there is no cause for fear. 
 
 164
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 Then be it as you will. Farewell, farewell. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Farewell, gentle Iseult, few days shall pass 
 Before I come again. 
 
 Iseult of Brittany 
 
 Farewell, farewell. 
 
 [Exit Tristram 
 Grisclda ! 
 
 Ejiier Griselda 
 He is gone ! Tristram is gone ! 
 
 Griselda 
 
 What troubles you ? We knew that he should go. 
 Before three days are past he will return. 
 
 Iseult of Brittany 
 
 I prayed him not to go. Last night I dreamed 
 That he was dead. 
 
 Griselda 
 Lady, dreams are deceit. 
 
 165
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 'Tis not my dream that saddens me ; but now 
 I suffer with great sadness, for I know 
 That Tristram loves me not, and never now 
 Will Tristram love me. 
 
 Griselda 
 
 Nay, you are distraught ! 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 I know ; I know. For were there in his heart 
 One ray of love, he would have seen the thought 
 That lies within the darkness of my heart. 
 And he could not have gone. 
 
 Griselda 
 
 These words are folly. 
 Begot of groundless fear. 
 
 Iseult of Brittany 
 
 He loves me not. 
 Ah ! long ago I feared he loved me not ; 
 But foolishly I thought that love would come ; 
 But now there is another whom he loves. 
 
 Griselda 
 
 Lady, 'tis madness ! 
 
 1 66
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 No, it is the truth, 
 I know not whom he loves, but there is one ; 
 He could not gaze and gaze across the sea 
 With such sad, wistful eyes, did he not love. 
 I know not who she is ; I only know 
 He loves her, and that she is far away. 
 
 Scene H. — Castle of Carhaix. Tristram lying 
 
 on a Bed 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 How fares it, Tristram ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 It is well, the wound 
 Aches not so sorely ; soon will it be healed. 
 Iseult, bring me thy brother. I have words 
 That I must speak to him. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 He comes, my Lord. 
 
 Enter Sir Kay Hedius 
 
 Tristram 
 
 And I would speak with him awhile alone. 
 
 167
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 'Tis well. I go. 
 
 IsEULT goes, but hides behind the arras of the door 
 
 Tristram 
 
 My friend, my wound is sore. 
 The sword of Bedaiis I slew, from whom 
 I got this wound, was poisoned, and I know 
 That it will never heal, and I shall die. 
 
 Sir Kay Hedius 
 
 Nay, speak not thus. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Already I can hear 
 The mufTlcd step of Death upon the stair ; 
 There is no doubting of that sound : I die. 
 But O true friend, who knuwest all my stor)-, 
 Who, understanding all, hast pardoned me ; 
 Before I die I fain would see Iseult, 
 Iseult the Fair, Iseult whom I loved well ; 
 And, had I but a messenger to send, 
 I know that swiftly she would come to me. 
 
 Sir Kay Hedius 
 
 I will to Cornwall. I will bring her here : 
 Tristram, for you I would risk many deaths, 
 And nought shall hinder me in this attempt ! 
 Give me your message and I will set out. 
 
 i68
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I thank you. Take this jasper ring to her ; 
 
 If she but see it she will find a way 
 
 To hear you. Tell her I am dying now ; 
 
 That only she can bring me help and life. 
 
 Bid her be mindful of our happy days, 
 
 Of all our joy, of all our misery ; 
 
 Our love, the cup we drained upon the sea ; 
 
 The oath I swore to love but her alone. 
 
 I kept the oath. The oath she swore to me 
 
 To come if she should see my jasper ring. 
 
 *Tis well. 
 
 Sir Kay Hedius 
 
 Tristram 
 
 But to thy sister say no word. 
 Tell her you go to seek a leech for me. 
 Two sails take with you ; one black and one 
 
 white ; 
 And if you bring Iseult with you, then hoist 
 The white sail ; if without her you return. 
 Let it be black. I have no more to say. 
 Farewell, and may God bring you safely home. 
 
 Sir Kay Hedius 
 
 I go. I will bring back Iseult the Fair. 
 
 [Exit Sir Kay Hedius 
 
 169
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 Enter Iseult of Brittany 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 Where is my brother ? 
 
 Tristram 
 
 He has gone, Iseult, 
 Far off to fetch a sage, who, skilled in herbs, 
 Alone can heal my aching wound. 
 
 Iseult of Brittany 
 
 'Tis well 
 I for his swift and safe return will pray. 
 
 Scene III. — Hall in Castle at Carhaix 
 
 Griselda 
 My Lord still sleeps. 
 
 Iseult of Brittany 
 
 Oh ! It fares ill with him. 
 He has not bid us bear him to the beach. 
 Whence all day long he gazed upon the sea. 
 
 Griselda 
 He is too weary. 
 
 170
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 Weary, too, am I. 
 My heart, too, has been poisoned with a wound. 
 
 Griselda 
 What wound ? 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 My heart is full of bitter hate, 
 And with a great desire to be revenged. 
 
 Griselda 
 On whom ? 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 Griselda, dark is my despair ! 
 'Twas bitter when I feared he loved me not, 
 But oh ! the greater bitterness I taste 
 Now, that I know my utmost fear was true ! 
 I loved him so. And who is there on earth 
 Who could have given him greater love than I ? 
 I hoped, I dreamed that he could love me too. 
 And cold is the awakening from that dream ! 
 
 Griselda 
 Thy grief has made thee wild. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 Hush, hush, he wakes ! 
 171
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Tristram 
 Sec you the white sail ? 
 
 ISEULT OF BklTIANV 
 
 On the wide grey sea 
 There is no sail. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 My wound, my wound is sore. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 Sleep, Tristram, sleep ; soon will the ship be here. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 1 have just slept. I dreamed a wondrous dream 
 Of a cool orchard walled about with air, 
 And watered by a rippling silver stream. 
 See you no sail ? 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 Upon the wide grey sea 
 There is no sail. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 I dreamed that on the grass 
 I lay, and listened to a summer song, 
 Softer than any song the Minstrel sings. 
 Sec you no ship ?
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 The sea is calm and still. 
 As far as the sky-line there is no sail. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 All day, all night, strange visions visit me ; 
 I dreamed that I was sailing in a ship, 
 On a hot summer noon, and called for water, 
 And in a silver cup they brought me wine ; 
 It seemed so cool, but ah ! it was not cool, 
 But hot and bitter, I can taste it still. 
 Oh ! will the fiery fumes not melt away ? 
 Will nothing cool the fever in my brain ? 
 Will nothing stay the aching in my heart ? 
 Alas ! Alas ! it was a poisoned wound. 
 Look ! Haply now across the sea there comes 
 The ship that bears the herb to heal my wound. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 Out of the west a little breeze has sprung. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Hark ! I can hear the tinkling of a bell ! 
 
 O faery chime, I recognise thy voice ; 
 
 It is the music of Avilion's isle. 
 
 The wizard bell I gave unto my friend ; 
 
 Glad is the heart of him who hears that bell. 
 
 A shining light has filled the lampless world ! 
 
 173
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Feci you the fragrance of the breeze ? The ship ! 
 The ship ! I hear the mmion of the sail ; 
 I hear the bubbling of the flying foam. 
 The ship has come with sunlight and with song 
 To bring me life. 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 'Tis true : around the cliff 
 A ship is coming and is running swift 
 Upon the beach. 
 
 Tristram 
 
 Oh, look ! look at the sail ! 
 Is the sail white ^ Can you not see the sail ? 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 I see the sail, for they have hauled it high. 
 Tristram, the sail is black. 
 
 Tristram (Turning to the wall) 
 
 Now I can live 
 No more. Iseult my life ! Iscult my death ! 
 Iseult ! 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 What have I done ? Speak, Tristram ! 
 Speak ! 
 What have I done ? Griselda ! come to me. 
 Tristram is dead ! 
 
 1/4
 
 TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 
 
 Enter Griselda and Knights 
 
 Griselda 
 
 Woe ! Woe ! Tristram is dead ! 
 Let the bells toll. Tristram the brave, the true ; 
 Tristram is dead ! The peerless Knight ! Woe ! 
 Woe! 
 
 Enter Duke and Duchess 
 
 IsEULT OF Brittany 
 
 Oh ! come not near me : leave me to my grief ! 
 
 [Knights carry the body o/" Tristram and lay 
 
 it on a bier. They spread a rich cloth over 
 
 it, and lay his sword on it. Iseult of 
 
 Brittany kneels down by the bier 
 
 Duke 
 
 O faithful Tristram ! No one in the world 
 Has ever served his King as you served me. 
 
 [Bells toll 
 
 Enter Iseult of Cornvv^all 
 
 Iseult of Cornwall 
 
 Tristram, where is he ? 
 
 [She walks up to Tristram's body 
 [To Iseult of Brittany] Lady, go you hence 
 And let me come. I have the greater right 
 
 175 .
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 To weep upon his body, for I loved him 
 More than you loved him. 
 
 [Turning to the East 
 God receive my soul. 
 Tristram, out of the cup you gave to me 
 I drank my death, but with the death was love, 
 The love that lives for ever. O my friend. 
 
 .76
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 A MASQUE 
 
 TO MADAME BULTEAU 
 
 N
 
 PERSONS OF THE MASQUE 
 
 Proserpine, disguised as Rosemary. 
 
 The Prince. 
 
 King Pharamond. 
 
 The Princess {his daughter). 
 
 Lily of the Valley. 
 
 Rosalind. 
 
 Heartsease {a dairymaid). 
 
 A Monk. 
 
 A Merchant. 
 
 A Soldier. 
 
 A Juggler. 
 
 A Shepherd. 
 
 An Old Man. 
 
 A Squire. 
 
 Soldiers, Courtiers, Maidens, Ghosts. 
 
 Place : Sicily. 
 Time : Indefinite.
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 A MASQUE 
 
 ACT I 
 
 Scene I 
 
 Sicily. A grove in a cirque of purple mountains. 
 On the Left is a doric temple built of golden 
 coloured marble. Behind it a large clump of 
 cypress trees. On the Right a sloping hill 
 also crowned with cypresses. The grass is 
 bright with anemones and spring flowers. 
 
 Chorus of Maidens enter r. and cross the stage 
 singing. They are dressed in many-coloured 
 draperies and zuear garlands of flowers, and 
 bear branches of blossom in their hands. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Where does the Queen of the Fairies dwell ? 
 East of the sun and west of the moon : 
 Whisper her name by the wishing well, 
 Curtsey and dance to the tinkling tune. 
 
 179
 
 DRAiMATIC POEMS 
 
 Why is her garland (jf petals red ? 
 East of the sun and west of the mf)on : 
 They grew in the sunless fields of the dead, 
 Curtsey and dance to the tinkling tune. 
 
 Why is she pale as the marble stone ? 
 East of the sun and west of the moon : 
 Never a sun on the sable throne ; 
 Curtsey and dance to the tinkling tunc. 
 
 Why is her sceptre an asphodel ? 
 East of the sun and west of the monn : 
 They gave it her once in the halls of Hell ; 
 Curtsey and dance to the tinkling tunc. 
 
 Speak the word to be said at the ^hrinc, 
 East of the sun and west of the moon : 
 Call on her name that is Proserpine ; 
 Curtsey and dance to the tinkling tunc. 
 
 Why with the fac'ry folk doth she dwell ^ 
 East of the sun and west of the moon : 
 Oh ! dark for Heaven, and bright for Hell ! 
 Curtsey and dance to the tinkling tunc. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 What festival, fair maidens, do you keep ? 
 What deity of forest, field or stream, 
 Receives the homage of your minstrelsy ? 
 
 1 80
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 Lily of the Valley 
 
 We dwell in yonder village, and our song 
 Is one of welcome to the new-born spring. 
 
 [The Maidens zvalk into the temple, except 
 Lily of the Valley, who remaifis behind 
 
 Lily of the Valley 
 
 The shadows deepen ; after set of sun 
 This place for mortal man is perilous. 
 
 The Prince 
 What is this haunt of dark mysterious things ? 
 
 Lily of the Valley 
 
 The place is consecrate to Proserpine ; 
 From immemorial time the sanctuary 
 Gleams in the shadow of the cypress trees. 
 
 The Prince 
 Doth priest or priestess worship Proserpine ? 
 
 Lily of the Valley 
 
 The temple is deserted ; never a priest 
 Upon the altar offers sacrifice : 
 See, the grass grows upon the crumbling steps ; 
 The swallows build beneath the cornices. 
 And unmolested in the mossy porch 
 The lizard basks and listens to our song. 
 
 i8i
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 The Prince 
 
 But wherefore did you sing a festal chant ? 
 And wherefore are you garlanded with flowers ? 
 
 Lily of the Valley 
 
 We maidens still in the mute sanctuary 
 Pay homage to the goddess of the spring. 
 The village folk avoid the lonely place ; 
 They say that he who after set of sun 
 Lingers here, falls beneath a deadly spell. 
 
 The Prince 
 A spell ? 
 
 Lily of the Valley 
 
 The witchery of Proserpine. 
 
 The Prince 
 And he who is bewitched ? 
 
 Lily of the Valley 
 
 Untimely dies. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 But you are not afraid ^ 
 
 Lily of the \'alley 
 
 Queen Proserpine 
 Is favourable to our minist'ring. 
 
 182
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 We are her trustful slaves, she harms us not. 
 We fear not even though the village tales 
 Of hauntings and of sorcery be true. 
 They say that flames, lit by no mortal hand, 
 Are seen here in the first warm nights of 
 
 spring ; 
 And that the dead in legions numberless 
 March to the temple through autumnal mists ; 
 The tales they tell are many, many, many. 
 Of visions, and of elfin voices heard. 
 Lately new rumours to the village came 
 Of how the ancient gods had been dethroned. 
 And wandered homeless in the haunts of men. 
 Of how the elves of meadow and of wood 
 Begged Proserpine to come and be their Queen. 
 Some say in this green cirque of cypresses, 
 Before the temple on Midsummer Night, 
 The faery people worship Proserpine ; 
 That mortals who behold this mystery 
 Must die within the year. And Rosalind, 
 One of the suppliants, saw the shadowy dance ; 
 The elves like fireflies twinkled in the grass. 
 And Proserpine walked down the temple steps. 
 
 Rosemary enters from the temfle. She remains on 
 the steps and sings 
 
 I came with the swallow and with the swallow I go, 
 Nevermore shall I see you, friend ; 
 
 Softly over whatever was here the waters ftow, 
 The evening has come and the end. 
 
 183
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 The hemlock flute in the spring and the grass- 
 hopper's song 
 For ever shall sound in your dream ; 
 My dream is dark, my dream is silent, my dream n 
 long. 
 By the reeds of the sable stream. 
 
 The Prince 
 Who is this maiden singing a strange tunc ? 
 
 Lily of the Valley 
 
 We call her Rosemary. A maiden strange 
 
 And wistful even as her sad slow song. 
 
 She came with the wild tulips in the spring ; 
 
 We know nf)t whence — she never told her story. 
 
 She loves the temple ; every day she brings 
 
 Bright garlands and a sacrifice of flowers. 
 
 She sleeps within the temple's dreadful courts 
 
 Untcrrined, and heedless of the dark. 
 
 We love her ; for her ways arc soft and gentle, 
 
 Even as the ilute-like sadness of her song, 
 
 And the great liquid deeps of her dark eyes. 
 
 She is the priestess of the sanctuary, 
 
 And there's a something sacred clings to her, 
 
 A secret majesty, a royal fervour. 
 
 The villagers with mingled fear and love 
 
 Regard her, though some say she is a witch, 
 
 Others that she was born in faCrvland. 
 
 Yet they are glad she offers sacrifice, 
 
 Deeming it brintrs good fortune to the place. 
 
 [RosE.MARV comes dotcn the strps 
 
 184
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 Lily of the Valley {To the Priiice) 
 
 I leave you. Yet beware ; for twilight falls. 
 
 [She goes up the temple steps 
 
 Rosemary 
 Are you a suppliant ^ 
 
 The Prince 
 
 No, by chance I found 
 The temple. I am for a neighbouring place : 
 The sea-girt city of King Pharamond. 
 
 Rosemary 
 His daughter is the fairest in the land. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 So it is said. 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 Beyond all mortal beauty. 
 She is the first-born rose of summertide, 
 With heart of fire, and petals of pale dawn ; 
 He who beholds her loves her until death. 
 Ah ! bright the lot of mortals born to love ! 
 
 The Prince 
 Is not your lot to love ? 
 
 185
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 My lot is dark ; 
 Alien to mortal joy my destiny. 
 
 The Prince 
 May you not love ? 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 Unearthly is my fate. 
 I serve a jealous goddess. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 Mortals say 
 The gods have been dethroned and cast from 
 Heaven. 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 Immortal are the gods ; though cast from 
 
 Heaven. 
 They still shall find on earth a dwelling-place. 
 Albeit men forsake the broken altars, 
 And seek strange gods and raise new images, 
 Yet shall the ancient gods endure, nor pass. 
 So long as men shall live and men shall die 
 So long in majesty shall Proserpine 
 Await their shades beyond the Stygian stream. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 Though all mankind should follow the new gods, 
 I still shall kneel and worship Proserpine ! 
 
 1 86
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 Rosemary 
 Why do you kneel and worship Proserpine ? 
 
 The Prince 
 
 What other gods have gifts to give hke hers ? 
 Their gifts are crowns of laurel, myrtle crowns. 
 I do not need these things ; I yearn and seek. 
 But Proserpine bestows the great reprieve — 
 The sleep that hath no ending and no dream. 
 
 Rosemary 
 The sleep is endless ; endless too the dream. 
 
 The Prince 
 Who knows what lies beyond the gates of Death ? 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 The pale dominions of Queen Proserpine ; 
 rhe waters of white Lethe, where the soul 
 Washes away remembrance of this earth ; 
 rhe endless dream in measureless dim fields, 
 \ life of shadows and a silent world. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 Vly soul is drawn towards that silent world, 
 \nd if I could escape the dream of life 
 [ would yield gladly to the dream of death. 
 
 187
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Rosemary 
 There is no springtide in the dream of death. 
 
 The Prince 
 The dream of life is sultry, brief and loud. 
 
 Rosemary 
 There are no voices in the dream of death. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 Life is a garment sewn into the flesh, 
 Dusty and hot it weighs the body down. 
 
 Rosemary 
 The dream of death is spacious, cool and dark. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 The dream of life is full of sorry sights, 
 And shot with grief and many coloured pain. 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 There is no sorrow in the dream of death ; 
 There is no mirth, no laughter, and no song. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 How do you know the secrets of the tomb ? 
 
 188
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 I am the votaress of Proserpine ; 
 
 She favours me, she visits me in dreams. 
 
 But lieth life, then, heavily on you ? 
 
 The Prince 
 
 I know not ; I am haunted by a voice 
 That comes I know not whence, a silvery voice 
 That steals towards me over the high hills. 
 And speaks of spacious cool immensities. 
 And forests dense and endless aisles of night, 
 And glassy reaches of a sunless river 
 Dim and more broad than any earthly sea ; 
 Of harbours dark, where many silent ships 
 At anchor ride, and stir not in the night. 
 A land beyond the sunset and the clouds, 
 East of the sun and westward of the moon. 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 East of the sun and westward of the moon 
 Dwells Proserpine, the sovran of the dusk. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 The twilight deepens. See, how tall and strange 
 The columns gleam against the purple sky. 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 And presently the moon with her few rays 
 Will touch their ghostly stature. 
 
 189
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 The Prince 
 
 Verily 
 This is a fitting haunt for Proserpine. 
 When in the dawn I galloped on the hills, 
 My heart was light with mirth. The setting 
 
 sun. 
 The cypresses, the temple and the song 
 Have charmed away the mirth of mc, and yet — 
 And yet the shadow which they bring to me 
 Is lined with magic, like a wandering tune 
 Heard in the night, that fills the captive soul 
 With melancholy which is more than joy. 
 
 [Efiter The Prince's Squire 
 
 The Squire 
 The night comes on apace. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 We must be stirring. 
 Farewell, fair priestess ; when you offer praise 
 And prayer to Proserpine, remember mc, 
 A stranger, who within these haunted precincts 
 Lingered no longer than a twilight hour, 
 And forthwith rode away into the night 
 To come again no more. Farewell. 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 Farewell. 
 190
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 [The Prince and The Squire walk up to 
 the top of the slope on the right. As they 
 go Rosemary sings : 
 
 I came with the swallow, and with the swallow 
 
 1 go, 
 Nevermore shall I see you, friend ; 
 
 Softly over whatever was here the waters flow. 
 
 The evening has come and the end. 
 
 [The Prince and The Squire disappear 
 behind the hill. From the Ternple a 
 Chorus of voices is heard singing : 
 
 The moon has risen in the night of spring, 
 The sea is marble-smooth, and dark as wine ; 
 Oh ! hoist on thy dark ship a silver wing. 
 Come to the slumbering earth, Queen Proserpine. 
 
 Bring the swift fireflies, bring the nightingale. 
 And on the furrowed hills of corn and vine 
 Scatter red poppies, and wild roses frail, 
 Upon the slumbering earth, Queen Proserpine. 
 
 Come ! Leave the woods and valleys of the 
 
 night ;^ 
 The world is breathless with a hope divine. 
 A million swallows from the south take flight. 
 Come, Queen of spring and swallows, Proserpine. 
 
 191
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Beneath thy footsteps, like the milky way, 
 The little twinkling asphodels shall shine ; 
 With flutes of June and cymbals of glad May, 
 Come, wake the slumbering earth, Queen Proser- 
 pine. 
 
 [The moon rises and lights up the figure oj 
 Rosemary, which all at once becomes 
 spectral and majestic. A silver halo 
 shines round her head and a croun oJ 
 red fiozcers is seen in her hair. 
 
 Scene II 
 
 7he Palace oj Kin(. Pharamono 
 
 A large and spacious hall in the palace, looking on 
 to the street. The architecture oJ the hall ts 
 Byzantine ; the walls are a dusky gold. 
 Round the room there is a gallery supported by 
 short columns oj coloured marble. In the 
 centre there is a great gateway wide open on to 
 the street. Outside a variegated crowd is seen, 
 waiting jor the marriage ceremony ; they are 
 kept back by halberdiers in parti-coloured 
 dress. It is a bright summer day. 
 
 On thr Right there is a raised platjorm where, 
 under a golden dais, two large thrones are 
 placed. 
 
 192
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 The King and The Princess enter^ attended by a 
 squire and three maidens. The King is an 
 old man^ dressed in gold and wears, like a 
 Byzantine Emperor, a long train, and a plain 
 gold circlet round his head. The Princess 
 is dressed all in silver , with a white veil. 
 
 King Pharamond 
 
 Now let the heralds sound a triple blast ; 
 Let bearers of the fluttering oriflammes 
 Form into rank. Let maidens strew the way 
 With myrtle boughs, with lilies white and red. 
 
 The Princess 
 
 Last night a sybil from the mountains came, 
 And prayed I would delay the marriage rite ; 
 Ill-starred, she said, was this, the chosen day, 
 And marked with evil for the Prince and me. 
 Let all be done to-morrow, for I dreamed 
 A dream that bodes ill chance and grim event. 
 
 The King 
 Put these sick fancies from thy fearful mind. 
 
 The Princess 
 My Lord, I know disaster lies in ambush. 
 
 [The Prince enters k. followed by a train 
 of courtiers and ladies. He kneels on one 
 knee to the King. 
 
 o 193
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 The King 
 The people wait. Let the procession form. 
 
 [The Prince rises. The King Uads Thi 
 Prinxess to the throne and they both seat 
 themselves. The Prinxe stands on the 
 right oj the throne. The heralds and the 
 bearers oj the oriflammeSy followed by men- 
 at-arms, form themselves into ranks. Thr 
 heralds blozu a blast on their trumpets. The 
 Bells of the Cathedral are heard ringing. 
 
 A Courtier 
 Pale is the Prince. 
 
 Another Courtier 
 
 More pale is his betrothed. 
 Look, clouded are her eyes, and large with fear. 
 
 First Courtier 
 
 Astrologers foretold disastrous happenings ; 
 They read sad presage in the sky last night. 
 
 Second Courtier 
 A wizard said the marriage should not be. 
 
 [From the street come sounds of music. J 
 high wailing chant is heard to the accom- 
 ■paniment of pipes and flutes. A fro- 
 
 194
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 cession of youths and maidens dressed in 
 white draperies and bearing lighted tapers 
 moves up the street. They carry a bier 
 on which lies the body of a young maiden 
 covered with lilies of the valley ; and 
 they halt in front of the open door of the 
 palace. 
 
 First Courtier 
 A funeral bars the way to the marriage feast. 
 
 Second Courtier 
 A dismal omen for a day of joy. 
 
 [fDutside the maidetts are heard singing ; 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Drop lilies of the valley on her bier, 
 
 For Rosalind is dead, fair Rosalind ; 
 
 Fair as the first white windflower in the wind, 
 
 And frail as the first windflower of the year. 
 
 Her smile was like the foam before a wave, 
 Like water lit by stars her slow grey eyes ; 
 Her sisters were the dancing dragonflies. 
 And now the winged moths shall haunt her grave. 
 
 There is no stone shall mark her grassy tomb, 
 But once a year, when dies the early bloom.
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 The cherry tree shall mourn for her, and shed 
 Frail tears, and softly shall the petals lie, 
 And softly fall, and falling seem to sigh : 
 " Fair Rosalind, frail Rosalind, is dead." 
 
 [The Maidens form a circle round the bier 
 and drop flowers on it 
 
 She has gone down into the sunless day. 
 
 There where the beckoning springtime never 
 
 comes, 
 To scentless fields, where the bee never hums, 
 To silent woods and skies for ever grey. 
 
 Ah ! weep, for she was young and she was fair ; 
 She was athirst for sunshine and for mirth. 
 For the glad sights and sounds of the sweet 
 
 earth, 
 And now she wanders cold in the pale air. 
 
 Have pity on the shade of Rosalind, 
 
 She stretches out her hands in vain regret, 
 
 For in thy kingdom there is no west wind, 
 
 No wheat, nor any roses, and no vine ; 
 
 She loved these things ; grant that she may 
 
 forget, 
 And drown her dreams in sleep, calm Proserpine. 
 
 \lhc Mourners raise the bier and form into 
 
 procession once more. 
 
 A single voice is heard singing : 
 196
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 / came zvith the swallow and with the swallow I go. 
 Nevermore shall I see you, friend ; 
 
 Softly over whatever was here the waters flow ; 
 The evening has come and the end. 
 
 The hemlock flute in the spring and the grass- 
 hopper's song, 
 For ever will sound in your dream ; 
 My dream is dark, my dream is silent, my dream is 
 long. 
 By the reeds of the sable stream. 
 
 [The Prince starts, and, like a man in a 
 dream, he walks to the gateway opening 
 on the street and walks out and mingles 
 with the mourners ; the funeral chant 
 continues ajid The Prince disappears. 
 The Princess turns pale. The King 
 and the courtiers stare at The Prince 
 as he goes in silent amazement. A cloud 
 seems to come over the sun and the whole 
 room becomes nearly dark. The pro- 
 cession passes the window, and in the 
 distance the funeral chant and the high 
 piping of flutes are heard dying away. 
 
 197
 
 ACT II 
 
 The cypress grove by the Templey as in Act I 
 
 // is summer. The chorus of maidens enters^ 
 singing as at the end of the last scene, /ollotced 
 by Lily of the Valley and The Prince. 
 
 Chorus 
 
 When Rosalind across the dark stream sped, 
 The shades that wait beside the Stygian stream 
 Wondered, for never came so fair a ghost ; 
 They thought the moon had risen in their 
 
 dream ; 
 Then softly bowing down, the shadowy host 
 Sighed : " Rosalind, fair Rosalind, is dead." 
 
 Thy slumber is unvisited by dreams ; 
 Thou hast forgotten the broad hours of noon. 
 The sunrise and the dusk, the rising moon, 
 The murmur of the fields, the tinkling streams. 
 
 The whistling of the men that mow and reap, 
 The winepress and the scent of mellow fruit, 
 The horn upon the hills, the answering flute. 
 Sweeten no more the softness of thy sleep. 
 
 198
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 Thou wanderest now amongst the drowsy flowers, 
 Tall twinkling asphodels and poppies red ; 
 On Proserpine's pomegranate thou hast fed, 
 
 Thou yearnest now no more for days and hours, 
 For the forbidden springtime and the showers ; — 
 Thou art contented now amongst the dead. 
 
 [The Maidens and Lily of the Valley 
 walk into the Temple. The Prince 
 remains outside. He gazes at the Temple 
 as though dazed. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 Was it a dream, or have I just awaked 
 
 From life's brief dream ? Or am I dead indeed ? 
 
 [A loud noise of laughter and talk is heard. 
 A Soldier, A Merchant, A Juggler, 
 A Shepherd, A Monk, and an Old 
 Man enter. They seat themselves on the 
 grass in front of the Temple. The Prince 
 stands aside and looks on. 
 
 The Merchant 
 
 This is the place to spend a slumberous noon, 
 'Tis cool and shady. 
 
 The Old Man 
 
 More than cool, 'tis cold. 
 199
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 The Merchant 
 
 Drink of this flagon. It is filled with wine 
 Potent enough to wake the sleeping dead. 
 
 The Juggler 
 The dead receive their bellyful of fire. 
 
 The Merchant 
 The damned. 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 The dead, the damned, it is the same. 
 
 The Soldier 
 
 Give me the flagon. Wine is for the living. 
 
 [//^ takes a pull at the flask 
 A fiery wine. 
 
 The Merchant 
 
 A wine for gods and kings ! 
 To-night there will be need of fiery wine 
 At the King's table for the funeral feast. 
 
 [Jie laughs 
 They say she wept a bucketful of tears. 
 
 The Juggler 
 The tears of a Princess are short-lived tears. 
 
 The Merchant 
 She will not quickly find a wealthier Prince. 
 
 200
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 The Prince 
 
 Your pardon, sirs, I am from foreign lands ; 
 Was Pharamond's fair daughter wed to-day ? 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 The festival had scarce begun at noon ; 
 When lo ! the bridegroom fled. 
 
 The Prince 
 Whither and why ? 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 He fled into the crowd ; 
 He vanished ; wherefore, whither, no man knows. 
 
 The Shepherd 
 They say he loved her not. 
 
 The Merchant 
 
 A Prince's love ! 
 Princes are wedded to maintain their lineage ; 
 To fortify the state by regal ties, 
 And to bring gold to empty treasuries. 
 
 The Shepherd 
 Princes are made of flesh like mortal men. 
 
 201
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 The Juggler 
 Flesh, rotten flesh ! the devil's savoury food. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 Yet far and wide the minstrels sing the praise 
 Of llic King's daughter. 
 
 The Juggler I 
 
 Yes, the lass is fair ; 
 Too fair, too swiftly fair ; the bloom will vanish 
 As soon as she has grown to womanhood, 
 And leave her parched and dry. Perchance the 
 
 Prince 
 Guessed at the truth and wisely went away. 
 
 The Shfphlrd 
 Nay, beauty such as hers can never die. 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 Hark at him ! Beauty lasts a fitful hour. 
 Oucen Guenevere, for whom Sir Lancelot 
 Loved and ft)Ught hard, came to that nunnery 
 Crippled and bowed with ague and chill pains. 
 And when the knights rode past the convent gate, 
 And someone cried : " The nun with snow-white 
 
 hair, 
 Who totters feebly to the cloister well, 
 Is Guenevere," they laughed his words to scorn. 
 
 202
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 Iseult of Cornwall once was beautiful, 
 
 She loved her Tristram well. Alack ! he found 
 
 In Brittany, betimes, a fresher face — 
 
 Iseult the Lily-handed ; he forgot 
 
 His former love, although she sailed to him, 
 
 Across th' insensate sea, when he lay sick ; — 
 
 And dying from her face he turned away, 
 
 Nor recognized the features of his friend. 
 
 The Shepherd 
 
 And yet there is a wondrous thing called Love ; 
 
 A mystery, a blessed miracle, 
 
 A sacrament, most holy, most divine. 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 Fools call it love ; and the priest calls it sin. 
 The Devil calls it lust. The Devil knows. 
 What made the sceptre of Imperial Rome 
 Fall from the grasp of brave Mark Antony ? 
 Because a wasp-like gypsy stung his flesh, 
 And in his veins a riotous venom ran 
 Which maddened him and left him languorous. 
 A pretty scene ! The high-souled warrior 
 Helpless and crazy as a rudderless ship. 
 Pinned to a petticoat, while empires crashed. 
 Regardless of his height and his renown. 
 And heedless of the fate of ruining worlds, 
 Languidly drifting to ignoble doom, 
 To satisfy a royal harlot's lust. 
 And Helen — what was the rare miracle 
 
 203
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Which made fair Helen fly her husband's home 
 And mowed, like grass, the chivalry of Greece ' 
 What was the sacrament, the mystcrj', 
 That bade false Paris seek a paramour ? 
 
 He sings : 
 
 Fair l^lclcn wearied of her lord, 
 
 And Paris pleased her eye ; 
 He lo(jked at her ; she blushed and said : 
 
 " Together let us fly." 
 
 With Paris Helen ran from home, 
 
 She crossed the purple main ; 
 Ten thousand galleys followed her 
 
 To bring her home gain. 
 
 Ten years the bravest sons of Greece 
 
 Fought for a woman's shame ; 
 A faithless wife's desire that flared 
 
 And died like fickle flame. 
 
 They fought beneath the walls of Troy, 
 They fought for ten years long ; 
 
 The father died, the child at home 
 Cursed Helen in his song. 
 
 They fought beneath the walls of Troy, 
 
 They fought for ten long years. 
 And husbands died, and wives at home 
 
 Cursed Helen in their tears. 
 
 204
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 They took by stealth the walls of Troy, 
 They burnt them to the ground ; 
 
 They buried Helen's lover deep 
 Under a heavy mound. 
 
 They brought false Helen home again, 
 And she grew old and grey ; 
 
 She mourned in vain her perished charms 
 Until her dying day. 
 
 She met her lover in the shades, 
 
 He turned his face aside ; 
 " I am that Helen whom you loved, 
 
 Helen of Troy," she cried. 
 
 " Helen of Troy was young and fair, 
 
 I know you not," he said ; 
 The shivering ghost of Helen moaned. 
 
 And bowed her royal head. 
 
 The Devil laughed and cracked his whip 
 And said : " As I've heard tell. 
 
 On earth ye twain were lovers once : 
 Be lovers here in Hell. 
 
 For nothing now shall part ye twain. 
 
 And in the icy place 
 Paris shall have no other sight 
 
 Than Helen's wrinkled face." 
 
 205
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 The Soldier 
 
 I care not for your Helens and Iscults, 
 In yonder village there arc red-lipped lasses. 
 Fresh as ripe cherries on the cherry tree, 
 To meet the warrior who returns from war. 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 Sir Warrior, your philosophy is wise. 
 
 A soldier sees in every tavern drab 
 
 A Hebe, and the nectar of her lips 
 
 Is sweet and leaves no bitterness behind. 
 
 The soldier's love is very free from care ; 
 
 He shares the sacrament of bird and beast, 
 
 And greatly he enjoys the miracle ! 
 
 The Soldier 
 
 A fig for miracles ! I love a lass, 
 
 I love a fight ; — a fig for foolish dreams ! 
 
 The Merchant 
 
 The greater fools are you who seek the wars. 
 Endure ihe hardships of the rough champaign. 
 And sweat and labour, bufietted and starved, 
 And win but festering wounds and grisly scars 
 For all reward, or else untimely die. 
 So that an idle king may loll at ease 
 And dwell secure in rooted indolence. 
 One thing alone is worth the toil of search — 
 Gold, shining gold, red gold, omnipotent gold ; 
 
 206
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 For gold brings lovely lasses, foaming wine, 
 Gilt palaces and gems, and brazen galleys, 
 Glory and honour and dominion, 
 Ease, freedom, friends, and every mortal joy. 
 
 The Soldier 
 
 We soldiers fight for glory, not for gold. 
 We fight because we love the clash of steel, 
 The shock, the charge, the bristling line of battle ! 
 Not all the wealth of Asia buys these things. 
 
 The Merchant 
 Such things are sought and won by fools alone. 
 
 The Shepherd 
 
 But there is something greater than renown, 
 Than gold, than glory and dominion ; 
 Love, mortal love ; to him who loves, the world 
 Is fairyland and then is Paradise. 
 
 The Monk 
 
 Shepherd, your words are true, for power and 
 
 glory 
 Are like the changing mist ; or flakes of snow 
 That melt and vanish when they touch this earth. 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 Yet nothing drags man's soul to certain doom 
 So swiftly as this love of which you tell. 
 
 207
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 The Monk 
 
 I preach not earthly love, but love divine ; 
 
 For he who loses all upon this earth 
 
 And tramples on his dreams of power and glory, 
 
 And stifles longing, lust and all desires, 
 
 He finds eternal love, the love of God. 
 
 Love infinite that wrappcth up the whole. 
 
 The Shepherd 
 
 But, holy man, the love divine you preach 
 Shields and enfolds a mortal's earthly love. 
 
 The Monk 
 
 My child, the love of mortals is a snare, 
 
 A gilded picture painted by the Devil 
 
 To lure the soul to everlasting fire. 
 
 For lovers in the flesh are doomed and damned 
 
 To outer darkness and unending flames. 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 And faithless lovers in the fires of Hell 
 Shall kindle one another's dead desire. 
 
 The Soldier 
 
 Our business is to live, as men should live. 
 When life is ended, God shall deal with us. 
 
 208 
 
 I
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 You put away the thought of death ; you shun it. 
 But there is none who hears unterrified 
 His footfall and the hissing of his scythe. 
 
 The Old Man 
 
 There is a tournament where Death himself 
 Answers the challenge of a mortal knight, 
 And meets him in the lists. 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 Death wins the fight. 
 
 The Old Man 
 
 He who would win needs more than fearlessness. 
 
 He must renounce all longing for the day, 
 
 Desire the life in death ; thus only he 
 
 Who vanquishes and kills his love of life 
 
 And longs for Death and for the life in death, 
 
 Shall vanquish Death. 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 To vanquish Death he dies. 
 Where is the conquest, what the victory ? 
 
 The Old Man 
 
 He who shall vanquish Death shall live and love 
 In death, and Death shall have no hold on him. 
 p 209
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 The Juggler 
 
 'Tis better to be vanquished than to win ; 
 What is the profit for a gibbering ghost. 
 For rattling bones, to live and love in Hell ? 
 
 The Old Man 
 
 I fought myself in that grim tournament. 
 
 I loved ; I thought my love was strong as Dcjth ; 
 
 But when the trumpets sounded in the lists. 
 
 And bony Death came rattling on his steed, j 
 
 I turned towards the sunny world, and fear. 
 
 Fear crept into the corners of my heart ; 
 
 I durst not ride into the dreadful lists, 
 
 I durst not meet the foe — I was afraid. 
 
 Thf. Soldier 
 
 You were no coward to refuse to fight : 
 The bravest man fears Death. 
 
 The Old Ma.s 
 
 I challenged him, 
 I feared lc» fight ; I paid the penally. 
 Bitter and long has been the punishment ; 
 I wander restless o'er the changing world, j 
 
 Acliing and wear\', and I find no rest, ^ 
 
 For Dc.uh has shut his gates upon my soul. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 But liad \(Hi fought and failed .' 
 
 210
 
 PROSERPINE 
 The Old Man 
 
 I should have died 
 And found forgetfulness. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 And had you vanquished ? 
 
 The Old Man 
 I still should unforgetful live in Death. 
 
 The Juggler 
 A Hving dog is better than a ghost. 
 
 The Monk 
 
 Your talk is blind with error and with sin ; 
 Repent, and you shall find eternal rest 
 In Heaven, and everlasting happiness. 
 
 The Merchant 
 Both Heaven and Hell are here upon the earth. 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 Wait till you hear the waving of Death's wings, 
 The roaring of the furnaces of Hell. 
 
 211
 
 l;RAMATIC POEMS 
 
 The Soldier 
 
 The sun is high in the heavens, so fare you well ; 
 
 I'm for the city, I am for the wars. 
 
 To fight the Emperor of the Orient ; 
 
 So fare you well. Good luck to you, my friends. 
 
 The Merchant 
 
 My argosies await me in the port» 
 
 Stout bales of preci(ms stuff, pearls from Ceylon, 
 
 Nuggets of metal, tusks of ivory, 
 
 And aml->cr and Pha*nician spikenard. 
 
 The Monk 
 
 And I am for the windy pinnacles ; 
 I go to intercede ff)r your sick s<^>uls. 
 To mortify my flesh, to watch and pray. 
 
 The Old Man 
 1 am once more for, Oh ! the endless road. 
 
 Thk Juggler 
 
 I go to juggle — with the souls of men. 
 
 [The Merchant, The Jit.cler, The 
 Old Man and The .Monk go down 
 behind the hill. The Shepherd and 
 The Prince remain. The Prince tvith- 
 drazvs into the cypresses by the TempU^ 
 where he is half-concealed. 
 
 212
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 The Shepherd sings : 
 
 The mower at his scythe 
 
 Is whistling in the hay ; 
 The world is fair and blithe, 
 
 O heart, keep holiday ! 
 
 gaudy month of June, 
 O vocal noontide-hours, 
 
 What care I for thy tune ? 
 What care I for thy flowers ? 
 
 No more I heed the song 
 
 Of thrush and calling dove, 
 For I hear all day long 
 
 The cooing note of love. 
 
 Upon her casement ledge, 
 To-day I saw the rose, 
 
 1 flung across the hedge. 
 Into her orchard close. 
 
 " Thy true love thinks of thee. 
 She thinks of thee to-day," 
 
 So spake the rose to me, 
 O heart, keep holiday ! 
 
 [Enter Heartsease 
 
 The Shepherd 
 
 At last, O fairest ! I have waited long. 
 
 213
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Heartsease 
 I love you ; tell me that you love me true. 
 
 The Shepherd 
 I love you true, Dear heart ! I love you true. 
 
 Heartse.ase 
 
 If I should die .'' 
 
 The Shepherd 
 Then I should straightway die. 
 
 Heartsease 
 
 Of if some black misfortune should befall — 
 If I grew old and ugly in a night ? 
 
 The Shepherd 
 
 My love would kiss away your tears ; to me 
 Y(Hi will be you, to-morrow and to-day. 
 And always, whatsoever fate may bring. 
 To me for ever you are beautiful. 
 
 Heartsease 
 
 Last night I dreamed of you, and ever}' night 
 I dream of you, and in my last night's dream 
 We sailed across the ocean in a boat. 
 We sailed across the sea to faCryland. 
 
 214
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 The Shepherd 
 And there we built a castle on a hill. 
 
 Heartsease 
 And round the castle there were orchards green. 
 
 The Shepherd 
 Where silver apples glimmer through the dusk. 
 
 Heartsease 
 
 And in the castle there is a tall throne 
 Whence we look down upon the coloured world. 
 
 The Shepherd 
 
 A hundred nightingales shall sing to us, 
 Sing us to sleep beneath the apple-trees. 
 
 Heartsease 
 A thousand larks shall wake us in the morn. 
 
 The Shepherd 
 
 The elves shall come and crown you with soft 
 
 dew, 
 For you shall be their Queen. 
 
 Heartsease 
 
 And you their King. 
 215
 
 i>>RAMAriC POEMS 
 
 The Shlphero 
 
 And then, when we grow tired of fa<?r)'land, 
 Wc shall come back and build a little hut 
 In Sicily, amidst the corn and vines. 
 
 Heartsease 
 
 Or nestling (m the cliff by the blue sea. 
 
 Tut Shepherd 
 And wc shall live together till we die. 
 
 Heartsease 
 
 Haply you'll find a fairer lass than mc ; 
 Haply you will forsake me and forget. 
 
 The Shepherd 
 
 There is no woman beautiful as you 
 
 In the wide world, Oh dear, in all the world ! 
 
 Heartsease 
 
 And there is none so ghjrious as mv love. 
 I love you then, my joy, my good delight ! 
 
 [From thr Temple a sound of singing is 
 heard 
 
 Heartsease 
 
 Come, let us go ; I hear the sound of voices. 
 
 [^They go up into the hills 
 216
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 The Prince 
 
 First love of mortal men ! Great ecstasy, 
 
 And seal of human things ! I dreamt a dream — 
 
 Oh ! I shall put away my sullen thought, 
 
 I shall go back into the noisy world 
 
 And find soft eyes to watch me, and sweet lips 
 
 To smile, embracing arms and a warm heart ; 
 
 I shall forget my melancholy dream. 
 
 [The Maidens come out of the Temple 
 and walk down behind the hill out 
 of sight except Rosemary, who walks 
 down the Te?nple steps. 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 Why do you linger in this place of shadow ? 
 Go to the world and find felicity. 
 
 The Prince 
 Why do you bid me go ? 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 Because I love you. 
 I love you, and I fear to do you harm. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 At last the veil is lifted from my eyes ; 
 
 My deep and burning thirst is quenched at last, 
 
 And stilled the fiery restlessness within 
 
 That all my life has sore tormented me. " 
 
 217
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 I love you. I have loved you all my life ; 
 This face has haunted me in countless shapes, 
 In every sight of earth and sea and sky ; 
 This voice has haunted me in ever)' sound. 
 Now all is clear. 
 
 Rosemary 
 Then if you love me, go. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 I will not go. My heart's desire is here. 
 Soft is the shipwreck in this sea of dream. 
 
 Rosemary 
 My love is (jvershadowed by black wings. 
 
 The Prince 
 My love is strong enough to conquer Death. 
 
 Rosemary 
 Leave me and seek the Tournament of Life. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 I love you for your sorrowful soft eyes, 
 I love you for your pale unaltered face, 
 I love you for your wide and dusky hair, 
 I love you for your voice which is the world's. 
 
 218
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 Rosemary 
 I love you, friend, I who have never loved ! 
 
 The Prince 
 
 Long have I dreamed of you throughout the 
 
 world. 
 Far have I wandered, seeking for this face ; 
 Ah ! I have snatched the mask from many a face, 
 Yearning to find the twilight-laden eyes 
 That haunted me and never let me rest ; 
 Now I have found my dream ; my quest is done. 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 heart's desire, I too have sought for you, 
 
 1 too have sought and found a beckoning dream ; 
 I must no sooner find than lose my dream. 
 Alas ! that I should lose the long-sought prize ! 
 Oh ! would this hour could last, that you and I 
 Might wander in deep woods for evermore. 
 Lost in the thickets of a leafy gloom. 
 
 For you are like the spirit of the woods, 
 The child of the cool forest and its ways. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 And you are like the music of the trees, 
 The notes of calling flute and mellow horn, 
 That echo in the woodland far away. 
 
 219
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 Rosemary 
 
 O precious vision, O fugitive frail dream ! 
 
 would that you could last ! O would that we 
 Might hoist your wings fur sails, and say farewell 
 Forever to the harbours of this world. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 So shall it be. The vision shall come true. 
 We shall sail down the estuaries of time. 
 And reach the ocean of eternity. 
 East of the sun, and westward of the moon. 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 No, no, the dream must cease, and you must go. 
 Dark is my destiny. Ah ! question not ; 
 As soon as summer dies, I disappear. 
 And to my home you cannot follow me, 
 For I am plighted to one man alone. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 Who is the man ? Reveal this destiny. 
 
 1 cannot suffer greater hurt than death. 
 I cannot leave you now, unless I die. 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 There is one mortal man whom I may love. 
 That man must challenge Death and fight with 
 him ; 
 
 220
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 That man must vanquish Death, and if he fails 
 
 He dies, he passes to obHvion ; 
 
 He wanders, lost to me for evermore. 
 
 And many knights have fought for me and fall'n 
 
 Thus was I loth to tell the mystery, 
 
 Lest, like the others, you should fight and fall. 
 
 The Prince 
 But I shall challenge Death and vanquish him. 
 
 [Rosemary looks at The Prince and 
 
 bows her head 
 In the distance the shepherd's pipe is 
 
 heard. 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 The careless shepherd plays upon his reed. 
 The reapers rest beside the sunburnt corn, 
 The bee about the lily softly hums. 
 The maidens dip the pitcher in the well. 
 Through leafy ways the groaning wagons creak 
 Drawn by the slow white oxen, and the swain 
 Upon his fragrant load lies fast asleep. 
 The heat is twinkling o'er the yellow fields, 
 A myriad grasshoppers, the croaking frogs 
 Make music, while the mailed dragonflies 
 Poise o'er the glassy stream ; the world is bright, 
 The world is joyous, and the world is fair, 
 And pleasant are the noises of the noon. 
 
 221
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 The Prince 
 I crave the silence of a sunless world. 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 Sweet is the fragrance of the wild white rose, 
 The honeysuckle and the new-mown hay. 
 
 The Prince 
 I crave the scentless slumber-laden flowers. 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 Soft are the hollow wood-notes of the dove, 
 And low the flight of swallows in the dusk. 
 
 The Prince 
 I crave the woods unvexed by noise of wings. 
 
 Rosemary 
 
 Glad is the sight of scarlet-flaunted fields, 
 The waving wheat, the dancing corn-flowers. 
 The summer lightning and the falling stars, 
 The flickering of the fireflies in the wheat. 
 The hot green spaces of midsummer darkness. 
 Can you forego for ever these fair sights ? 
 
 The Prince 
 The sights I need are mirrored in your eyes. 
 
 222
 
 PROSERPINE 
 Rosemary 
 
 The sighing of the wind, the whispering sea, 
 The noise and laughter of the busy street, 
 The song of lovers and the shepherd's reed. 
 Can you forego for ever these sweet sounds ? 
 
 The Prince 
 
 The sounds I need are echoed in your speech ; 
 The sights and sounds of life shall pass away, 
 And in the sunless place, for you and me 
 There shall be no more life and no more death. 
 No days, no hours, no seasons and no time, 
 But only love for all eternity. 
 
 [Heartsease is heard singing behind the 
 trees : 
 
 He came from Palestine last night. 
 
 At set of sun he came ; 
 Behind the casement shone for him 
 
 My silver lamp's thin flame. 
 
 He had forgot the ancient sign. 
 
 And heedless he passed by 
 The garden, where a year ago 
 
 We watched the swallows fly. 
 
 I heard him whistle in the lane, 
 I watched him from my bed, 
 
 I saw him pass the garden gate ; 
 He did not turn his head. 
 223
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 They said that I must surely die 
 Before the spring had come, 
 
 But I knew well that I should live 
 Until my love came home. 
 
 He came from Palestine last night, 
 
 And he is glad and well ; 
 And I have naught to wait for now. 
 
 " False love, dear love, farewell ! " 
 
 ACT III 
 
 The 7cmplt\ as in Act I 
 
 It is autumn. The hills are parched by the heat. 
 The distant trees are red., brown and gold. 
 The ground is stretvn with fallen leaves. It 
 is late in the afternoon. The sun is low in 
 the heavens. Lily of the Valley and Thf 
 Maidens are discovered., moaning on the 
 steps of the Temple. 
 
 [Efiier The Merchant, The Old Man, Thl 
 Juggler, The Shepherd, and The Soldier 
 
 The Shepherd 
 
 What evil fortune has befallen you, 
 That you lament together, maidens, so ^ 
 
 224
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 Lily of the Valley 
 
 Our loved companion, Rosemaiy, has fled. 
 
 She, whom they named the Priestess ; she most 
 
 fair, 
 Most gentle and most sad. Last night together 
 We brought the dying summer's rusty spoil 
 Unto the temple, and we left her here 
 And tarried for her underneath the hill. 
 For in the temple she'd make melody 
 Until the set of sun. When twilight fell, 
 Lo ! Rosemary had vanished, vanished too 
 The flowers upon the altar. Far and near 
 We sought and called in vain for Rosemary ; 
 Again to-day we searched the country-side. 
 In vain, for Rosemary has left no trace. 
 
 The Shepherd 
 
 Last night when sunset burned beyond the trees, 
 I met a hooded maiden bearing branches ; 
 She wore a sable robe, but her pale brow 
 Was garlanded with poppies. 
 
 Lily of the Valley 
 
 Rosemary 
 Was clad like us in garb of festal colour. 
 
 The Shepherd 
 
 Haply she wanders on the windy hills. 
 Q 225
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 The Merchant 
 
 In vain you seek her on the windy hills ; 
 Go to the glittering city ; 'tis the place 
 Where comely maidens find their heart's desire. 
 
 Lily of the Valley 
 
 This temple was the home of Rosemary — 
 And in this temple was her heart's desire. 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 Your search is vain. She will return no more. 
 
 The Soldier 
 Haply she went to see the tournament. 
 
 Lily of the \'alley 
 Whai tournament ? 
 
 The Soldier 
 
 W iihin the sea-girt cit}', 
 The far-famed tournament cf Life and Death 
 Was fought to-day before King Pharamond. 
 
 The Old Man 
 
 And to-day's tournament throughout the world 
 Shall be renowned until the end of time. 
 For Death was vanquished by Mortality. 
 
 226
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 The Soldier 
 
 We soldiers oft need all our bravery 
 
 To fight the living ; this man fought with Death. 
 
 Lily of the Valley 
 Who vanquished Death ? 
 
 The Old Man 
 
 An unknown knight. 
 
 The Merchant 
 
 Some say- 
 It was the lost betrothed of the Princess, 
 Who fought to win forgiveness and new love. 
 
 The Old Man 
 
 That cannot be, for when black-armoured Death 
 Fell rattling from his steed, a skeleton, 
 When that loud crash of thunder filled the air, 
 When the knight took the coal-black plumes of 
 
 Death 
 And marching to the maiden in her place. 
 Received of her the crown of victory. 
 With eyes that did not look he grasped the laurel, 
 And left the lists. He was so heedless, He ; — 
 Nor set the leaves upon his conquering brow, 
 Nor cast one glance upon the peerless face. 
 
 227
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 The Shepherd 
 
 Haply he loved another, now as then, 
 I gazed on the Princess, and when the knight 
 Took with averted eyes the crown of leaves, 
 A deadly pallor crept across her check. 
 She fell in helpless swoon. 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 O foolish boy, 
 It was the presence of the kingly fear, 
 The icy wind which blows from Death's broad 
 
 stream, 
 That overcame her. And it was the sight 
 Of Death arrayed in armour forged in Hell, 
 Prancing upon a terrible war-horse, shod 
 In workshops of the damned, that scared her 
 
 thus. 
 
 The Old Mas 
 
 Perchance. It did not scare the fearless knight. 
 
 The Shepherd 
 
 She swooned for joy because the knight had won. 
 She swooned for sorrow that he went away. 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 She swooned for fear of the armed skeleton ; 
 To feel the darkness of the outer place 
 Where the damned souls wander in agony. 
 
 228
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 The Shepherd 
 
 There is a quiet place beyond the grave 
 Where happy souls shall taste felicity. 
 
 The Merchant 
 
 Within the grave is darkness and the dust, 
 And never-ending sleep. The talcs of Hell 
 And Paradise are made to frighten babes. 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 There is a place of bartering and no speech. 
 There you shall traffic with dim merchandise. 
 For ever shall you pile a hoard that fades, 
 For ever tell the tale of phantom gold. 
 And filled for ever with unquenched desire 
 And despair permanent, you, in that place, 
 Shall curse the dream that mocks but cannot cease. 
 There is a place where you, young Sick o' love, 
 Shall pipe to hags and upon fiery hills. 
 There is a place where you, tall, soldier-thing, 
 Shall charge the unsubstantial hosts of night 
 For ever, and for ever fail to charge. 
 And know defeat in battles never joined, 
 And hear such foemen as you shall not see. 
 
 The Soldier 
 
 I have fought fairly on this earth ; the gods 
 Shall fairly deal with me ; unterrified, 
 At least, the knight who conquered Death himself 
 Shall dwell in Death's abode. 
 
 229
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 O simple soldier, 
 His of all fates the most unhappy fate ! 
 For he shall die, and that right speedily ; 
 Upon this world his fortune was despair. 
 Despair shall be his lot beyond the grave. 
 
 The Old Man 
 
 The man who conquers Death, albeit he die, 
 Is freed for ever from all restlessness. 
 
 The Shepherd 
 
 The sun is sinking, and the mist of night 
 Is full of shapes immortal. It is cold. 
 
 Lily of the Valley 
 Methought I heard the voice of Rosemar)'. 
 
 The Juggler 
 Far beyond earthly hail is Rosemary ! 
 
 Lily of the Valley 
 
 Begone, false juggler ! hateful is your speech, 
 Loathsome your laughter and the sight of you. 
 This is a holy place. The shadows fall ; 
 It is not good for mortals to be here ; 
 You will offend immortal Proserpine. 
 Begone, I pray you. Leave me to my grief. 
 
 230
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 The Soldier 
 
 She speaketh true. Come, sirs, let us be stirring. 
 Come, leave her to her grief. 
 
 The Juggler 
 
 Your Rosemary- 
 Has haply met a witch's fiery doom. 
 
 The Shepherd {To Lily of the Valley) 
 
 May the gods bless you and requite your prayer. 
 \They all go except Lily of the Valley, 
 who walks up to the Temple 
 
 Lily of the Valley 
 
 I hear the fagry voices in the wind ; 
 The evening deepens, the forbidden hour 
 Is nigh. I must not desecrate the place. 
 O, Rosemary, come back to me once more ; 
 O, Proserpine, give back our Rosemary ! 
 
 [She goes out. Proserpine walks from the 
 cypresses on to the steps in her true 
 shape^ in all her glory and majesty. 
 She is clothed in dark draperies and 
 wears a wreath of scarlet poppies. Below 
 the Temple steps the ghosts of the dead 
 rise and bow down before her., and are 
 heard singing : 
 
 231
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 Chorus of Ghosts 
 
 The swallow seeks the southern land again, 
 The trees, but not the cypress and the pine, 
 Are splashed and dyed with autumn's crimson 
 
 stain ; 
 Come back unto thy dead, Queen Proserpine. 
 
 The fruit has fallen from the orchard trees, 
 And on the mountain-ash red berries shine ; 
 The ship awaits thee and the ghostly breeze : 
 Come back unto thy dead, Queen Pruscrpine. 
 
 The golden wheat was garnered long ago, 
 And ended is the harvest of the vine ; 
 Through ragged woods the winds of autumn 
 
 blow ; 
 Come back unto thy dead, Queen Proserpine. 
 
 Forsake the sunburnt hills of Sicily, 
 The laughter and the song, the flower}' shrine. 
 Hark ! in the wind the wandering spirits sigh : 
 Come back unto thy dead. Queen Proserpine. 
 
 [The Prince is daz^d and dazzUd by her 
 appearance, and kneels bejore her. 
 
 Proserpine 
 
 I am Queen Proserpine whom, till to-day, 
 You knew but in a mortal guise, and now 
 Behold in her unclouded majesty 
 
 232
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 And undiminished splendour ; to the earth 
 I came with the return of spring, and now 
 I go, with dying summer, to the dark. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 Lady of Darkness, I have conquered Death ; 
 Here is the Helm of Death, and here the crown. 
 
 Proserpine 
 
 You do not wear the crown of victory, 
 
 The crown of life, which you did nobly win ; 
 
 What do you crave instead for recompense ? 
 
 The Prince 
 
 To follow to your everlasting home. 
 To dwell for ever in the dream of you. 
 This is the only recompense I crave — 
 Ah ! you know well what is my heart's desire. 
 
 Proserpine 
 
 In my pale kingdom on a pillared throne, 
 I shall be far removed from you, for you 
 Shall dwell amid the myriads of the dead ; — 
 They may not even see my royal face, 
 And only you, of all the endless host, 
 Shall unforgetful gaze on Proserpine. 
 Will you receive that for your recompense ? 
 
 233
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 The Prince 
 
 I shall behold your changeless face and dwell 
 For ever in the dream and sight of you, 
 For ever in the thought and light of you, 
 For ever in the shadow of your soul, 
 For ever in the stillness that is you. 
 Remembering all that was ; far off, but near, 
 Beyond the reach of Life and Death and 
 
 Time, 
 And linked by chains of silent song to you. 
 And thfjugh the rivers and the plains of Hell 
 Between us lie, if I behold this face, 
 I shall be one with your wide majesty. 
 And with your mute and dark dominion one, 
 One with your pale, your glimmering loveliness, 
 One with your sorrow endless and divine. 
 One with the vastness of your silver dream. 
 One with your deeps of silence infinite. 
 And one with your eternal life in death. 
 
 Proserpine 
 So shall it be. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 Beyond the silent stream 
 I shall behold you far upon your throne. 
 
 Proserpine 
 So shall it be. 
 
 234
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 The Prince 
 
 I shall behold your face, 
 And I shall share the sorrow of your dream, 
 And you shall feel my infinite desire. 
 
 Proserpine 
 
 Yet shall we be eternally apart, 
 Eternally asunder and apart. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 Eternally divided and apart. 
 
 And yet my soul shall, like a drop of dew. 
 
 Dwell in the inmost petals of your soul. 
 
 Proserpine 
 
 Eternally asunder and yet near, 
 
 Together, though eternally apart. 
 
 So shall it be, according to your choice. 
 
 For you have conquered Death, and you can 
 
 choose 
 The fruit of darkness or the fruit of light. 
 The apple or the slumberous pomegranate. 
 So take this apple, take this pomegranate, 
 Await on earth the footfall of the spring. 
 Then, when the rapturous earth awakes from 
 
 sleep 
 And calls the summer to make love to her, 
 Look round and hear the music of the spring, 
 
 235
 
 DRAMATIC POEMS 
 
 Look round and heed the glory of the world, 
 The pastures, the fresh woods, the cloudy hills, 
 The murmurous cities and the smiling sea ; 
 If on that day you still shall crave the dark. 
 The silence and the sorrow of my dream. 
 Taste the pomegranate ; you shall sleep to wake 
 Within my shadow ; but if smiling life 
 Be sweet to you, then taste the golden fruit. 
 You shall forget the dream of Proserpine, 
 And live contented in the world of men. 
 And with the spring I shall return once more. 
 And I shall love you with a mortal's love. 
 And you shall love me with a mortal's love, 
 W ith all a mortal's ecstasy of love, 
 With all a mortal's swift forgctfulncss. 
 And when the summer dies, and I once more 
 Return to the dark realm, you shall forget ; 
 And, fancy-free, shall seek and find new joy. 
 
 The Prince 
 
 And if I taste the other darker fruit, 
 
 Will you return with the returning spring ? 
 
 Pkoslrpine 
 
 I shall be unaware of earth and spring, 
 I shall forget the vision of the world, 
 I shall have found the dream I sought on earth ; 
 And lost and drowned in mv eternal dream, 
 I nevermore shall sock the earth in spring. 
 
 236
 
 PROSERPINE 
 
 Chorus of the Dead 
 
 Pale Proserpine descends to her dark home. 
 And bow ye dead, bow down, ye voiceless dead ; 
 The scentless poppy bends its heavy head, 
 And silent is the sluggish 'Stygian foam. 
 
 In the dominion of the silent air 
 The shivering dead are comfortless and lone, 
 For Proserpine upon her pillared throne 
 Heedless beholds perpetual despair. 
 
 Pale Proserpine is mournful even as they, 
 For she remembers sweeter sound and sight ; 
 In vain she seeks the world in the sweet spring. 
 Her sojourn there is darkened by Death's wing, 
 Even as her dream within the halls of night 
 Is cursed by the remembrance of the day. 
 
 Proserpine 
 
 Farewell. I go to my dominion, 
 
 East of the sun and westward of the moon ; 
 
 But you await the coming of the spring. 
 
 [Proserpine walks into the Tem-ple.
 
 JOHN DAVIDSON 
 
 Selected Poems. Fcap. 8vo. Bound in Leather, 5s. 
 net ; Bound in Cloth, 3s. 6d. net. 
 
 Ballads and Songs. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net. 
 
 New Ballads. Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. 
 
 Fleet Street Eclogues. First Series. Fcap. 8vo. 
 4s. 6d. net. 
 
 Fleet Street Eclogues. Second Series. Fcap. 8vo. 
 4s. 6d. net. 
 
 Godfrida : a Play. P'cap. Svo. 5s. net. 
 
 The Last Ballad, and other Poems. Fcap. Svo, 
 4s. 6d. net. 
 
 A Random Itinerary. With a Frontispiece by 
 Laurence Housman. Fcap. Svo. 5s. net. 
 
 STEPHEN PHILLIPS 
 
 Poems. With which is incorporated " Christ in Hades." 
 
 Crown Svo. 4s. 6d. net. 
 Paolo and Francesca : a Play. With a Frontispiece 
 
 after G. F. Watts, r.a. Crown Svo. 4s. 6d. net. 
 
 Herod : a Tragedy. Crown Svo, 4s. 6d. net. 
 
 Ulysses : a Drama in a Prologue and Three Acts, 
 Crown Svo. 4s. 6d. net. 
 
 New Poems. Crown Svo. 4s. 6d. net. 
 
 The New Inferno. Crown Svo. 4s. 6d. net. 
 
 FRANCIS COUTTS 
 
 The Revelation of St. Love the Divine : a Poem. 
 
 Square i6mo. 3s. 6d. net. 
 The Alhambra, and other Poems. Crown Svo. 
 
 3s. 6d. net. 
 The Mystery of Godliness : a Poem. Square i6mo. 
 
 3s. 6d. net. 
 The Poet's Charter ; or, The Book of Job. 
 
 Crown Svo. 3s. 6d. net. 
 Mus.-v Verticordia : Poems. Crown Svo. 3s. 6d. net. 
 The PvOMance of King Arthur. Crown Svo. 5s. net. 
 The Heresy of Job. A Study of the Argument. 
 
 Illustrated with the " Inventions" of William Blake. 
 
 Fcap. 4to, 5s. net.
 
 \\II,1.I.\M WATSON 
 
 New Poems. Crown Svo. Second Editioa. 5». neU 
 
 The Poems ok William Watson. Selected and Arranged 
 by J. A. SiBM>Et, with Poil/ait and many New P oemi 
 2 voU. Crown 8vo. 9». ncL 
 
 Selected Poems. Fcap. 8vo. Cloth, }t. 6d. net. Leather, 
 
 5s. ntl. 
 
 The Prince's Quest, and othek Poems. Fcap. 8to. 
 
 4s. 6d. net. 
 
 LacmryM/^ Musarum. Fcap. 8vo. 31. 6d. net. 
 
 Tmk Eloping Angels : a Caprice. Square i6ino. jt.6d.neL 
 
 Odes and other Poems. Fcap. 8vo. 4%. 6d. net- 
 
 Tme Father of the Forest, and othbe Poems. With 
 Photogravure Portrait of the Author. Fcap. 8*0. Ji. 6d. net. 
 
 The Purple East : A Seriet of Sonneta on England't Deter- 
 tion of Armenia. With a Frontiipiece after G. F. WaTTS, 
 R.A. Fcap. 8v(). Wrapi>er. U. net. 
 
 The Year ok Shame. With an Introdoctioo by the BtmoP 
 ok Hereford. Fcap. 8to. 2a. 6d. net. 
 
 The Hope ok the World, and other Poems. Fcap. 8ro. 
 
 js. 6d. net. 
 Excursions in Criticism : Iwing kotne Pro«e Recreatiofu of 
 
 a khymcr. Crown 8vo. Ja. net 
 
 Odr on the Day of the Coronation of King Edward 
 VII. Small 4to. 2i.6d.net. 
 
 For England: Poems written during ElatrangemeoL Fcap. 
 
 8vo. 2'.. ^.1 n>' 
 
 .\i.i( 1-: Mi,\ M.i.i 
 
 Poems. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. 
 Later Poems. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. 
 
 IAMk]-) .\1.1-'R1:1) IXH'C.LA.^ 
 
 Sonnets, is^ 6d. net. 
 
 lOHN I..\M". Till" l;'M>irV I11AI> \I'.'' ^TiJlT, W
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 Lof Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the Use date ttamped below. 
 
 ^fl. 
 
 m 1 ^ ^^^^ 
 
 b'orm L9 — 16m-10,"48(mOJ:' 
 
 UNT\"ERSIT^ 
 
 vin 
 
 T FORMA
 
 1 
 
 AA 000 370 813 8 
 
 3 1158 01181 3 
 
 PR 
 
 6003 
 B25A17