Poems. Volume 2

II

IArchduchess Anne sat carved in frost,   Shut off from priest and spouse.Her lips were locked, her arms were crossed,   Her eyes were in her brows.IIOne hand enclosed a paper scroll,   Held as a strangled asp.So may we see the woman’s soul   In her dire tempter’s grasp.IIIAlong that scroll Count Louis’ doom   Throbbed till the letters flamed.She saw him in his scornful bloom,   She saw him chained and shamed.IVAround that scroll Count Louis’ fate   Was acted to her stare,And hate in love and love in hate   Fought fell to smite or spare.VBetween the day that struck her old,   And this black star of days,Her heart swung like a storm-bell tolled   Above a town ablaze.VIHis beauty pressed to intercede,   His beauty served him ill.—Not Vengeance, ’tis his rebel’s deed,   ’Tis Justice, not our will!VIIYet who had sprung to life’s full force   A breast that loveless dried?But who had sapped it at the source,   With scarlet to her pride!VIIIHe brought her waning heart as ’twere   New message from the skies.And he betrayed, and left on her   The burden of their sighs.IXIn floods her tender memories poured;   They foamed with waves of spite:She crushed them, high her heart outsoared,   To keep her mind alight.X—The crawling creature, called in scorn   A woman!—with this penWe sign a paper that may warn   His crowing fellowmen.XI—We read them lesson of a power   They slight who do us wrong.That bitter hour this bitter hour   Provokes; by turns the strong!XII—That we were woman once is known:   That we are Justice now,Above our sex, above the throne,   Men quaking shall avow.XIIIArchduchess Anne ascending flew,   Her heart outsoared, but feltThe demon of her sex pursue,   Incensing or to melt.XIVThose counterfloods below at leap   Still in her breast blew storm,And farther up the heavenly steep   Wrestled in angels’ form.XVTo disentangle one clear wish   Not of her sex, she sought;And womanish to womanish   Discerned in lighted thought.XVIWith Louis’ chance it went not well   When at herself she raged;A woman, of whom men might tell   She doted, crazed and aged.XVIIOr else enamoured of a sweet   Withdrawn, a vengeful crone!And say, what figure at her feet   Is this that utters moan?XVIIIThe Countess Louis from her head   Drew veil: ‘Great Lady, hear!My husband deems you Justice dread,   I know you Mercy dear.XIX‘His error upon him may fall;   He will not breathe a nay.I am his helpless mate in all,   Except for grace to pray.XX‘Perchance on me his choice inclined,   To give his House an heir:I had not marriage with his mind,   His counsel could not share.XXI‘I brought no portion for his weal   But this one instinct true,Which bids me in my weakness kneel,   Archduchess Anne, to you.’XXIIThe frowning Lady uttered, ‘Forth!’   Her look forbade delay:‘It is not mine to weigh your worth;   Your husband’s others weigh.XXIII‘Hence with the woman in your speech,’   For nothing it availsIn woman’s fashion to beseech   Where Justice holds the scales.’XXIVThen bent and went the lady wan,   Whose girlishness made greyThe thoughts that through Archduchess Anne   Shattered like stormy spray.XXVLong sat she there, as flame that strives   To hold on beating wind:—His wife must be the fool of wives,   Or cunningly designed!XXVIShe sat until the tempest-pitch   In her torn bosom fell;—His wife must be a subtle witch   Or else God loves her well!

III

IOld Kraken read a missive penned   By his great Lady’s hand.Her condescension called him friend,   To raise the crest she fanned.IISwiftly to where he lay encamped   It flew, yet breathed aloofFrom woman’s feeling, and he stamped   A heel more like a hoof.IIIShe wrote of Mercy: ‘She was loth   Too hard to goad a foe.’He stamped, as when men drive an oath   Devils transcribe below.IVShe wrote: ‘We have him half by theft.’   His wrinkles glistened keen:And see the Winter storm-cloud cleft   To lurid skies between!VWhen read old Kraken: ‘Christ our Guide,’   His eyes were spikes of spar:And see the white snow-storm divide   About an icy star!VI‘She trusted him to understand,’   She wrote, and further prayedThat policy might rule the land.   Old Kraken’s laughter neighed.VIIHer words he took; her nods and winks   Treated as woman’s fog.The man-dog for his mistress thinks,   Not less her faithful dog.VIIIShe hugged a cloak old Kraken ripped;   Disguise to him he loathed.—Your mercy, madam, shows you stripped,   While mine will keep you clothed.IXA rough ill-soldered scar in haste   He rubbed on his cheek-bone.—Our policy the man shall taste;   Our mercy shall be shown.X‘Count Louis, honour to your race   Decrees the Council-hall:You ’scape the rope by special grace,   And like a soldier fall.’XI—I am a man of many sins,   Who for one virtue die,Count Louis said.—They play at shins,   Who kick, was the reply.XIIUprose the day of crimson sight,   The day without a God.At morn the hero said Good-night:   See there that stain on sod!XIIIAt morn the Countess Louis heard   Young light sing in the lark.Ere eve it was that other bird,   Which brings the starless dark.XIVTo heaven she vowed herself, and yearned   Beside her lord to lie.Archduchess Anne on Kraken turned,   All white as a dead eye.XVIf I could kill thee! shrieked her look:   If lightning sprang from Will!An oaken head old Kraken shook,   And she might thank or kill.XVIThe pride that fenced her heart in mail   By mortal pain was torn.Forth from her bosom leaped a wail,   As of a babe new-born.XVIIShe clad herself in courtly use,   And one who heard them prateHad said they differed upon views   Where statecraft raised debate.XVIIIThe wretch detested must she trust,   The servant master own:Confide to godless cause so just,   And for God’s blessing moan.XIXAusterely she her heart kept down,   Her woman’s tongue was muteWhen voice of People, voice of Crown,   In cannon held dispute.XXThe Crown on seas of blood, like swine,   Swam forefoot at the throat:It drank of its dear veins for wine,   Enough if it might float!XXIIt sank with piteous yelp, resurged   Electrical with fear.O had she on old Kraken urged   Her word of mercy clear!XXIIO had they with Count Louis been   Accordant in his plea!Cursed are the women vowed to screen   A heart that all can see!XXIIIThe godless drove unto a goal   Was worse than vile defeat.Did vengeance prick Count Louis’ soul   They dressed him luscious meat.XXIVWorms will the faithless find their lies   In the close treasure-chest.Without a God no day can rise,   Though it should slay our best.XXVThe Crown it furled a draggled flag,   It sheathed a broken blade.Behold its triumph in the hag   That lives with looks decayed!XXVIAnd lo, the man of oaken head,   Of soldier’s honour bare,He fled his land, but most he fled   His Lady’s frigid stare.XXVIIJudged by the issue we discern   God’s blessing, and the bane.Count Louis’ dust would fill an urn,   His deeds are waving grain.XXVIIIAnd she that helped to slay, yet bade   To spare the fated man,Great were her errors, but she had   Great heart, Archduchess Anne.

THE SONG OF THEODOLINDA

IQueen Theodolind has builtIn the earth a furnace-bed:There the Traitor Nail that spiltBlood of the anointed Head,Red of heat, resolves in shame:White of heat, awakes to flame.   Beat, beat! white of heat,   Red of heat, beat, beat!IIMark the skeleton of fireLightening from its thunder-roof:So comes this that saw expireHim we love, for our behoof!Red of heat, O white of heat,This from off the Cross we greet.IIIBrown-cowled hammermen aroundNerve their naked arms to strikeDeath with Resurrection crowned,Each upon that cruel spike.Red of heat the furnace leaps,White of heat transfigured sleeps.IVHard against the furnace coreHolds the Queen her streaming eyes:Lo! that thing of piteous goreIn the lap of radiance lies,Red of heat, as when He takes,White of heat, whom earth forsakes.VForth with it, and crushing ringIron hymns, for men to hearEchoes of the deeds that stingEarth into its graves, and fear!Red of heat, He maketh thus,White of heat, a crown of us.VIThis that killed Thee, kissed Thee, Lord!Touched Thee, and we touch it: dear,Dark it is; adored, abhorred:Vilest, yet most sainted here.Red of heat, O white of heat,In it hell and heaven meet.VIII behold our morning dayWhen they chased Him out with rodsUp to where this traitor layThirsting; and the blood was God’s!Red of heat, it shall be pressed,White of heat, once on my breast!VIIIQuick! the reptile in me shrieks,Not the soul.  Again; the CrossBurn there.  Oh! this pain it wreaksRapture is: pain is not loss.Red of heat, the tooth of Death,White of heat, has caught my breath.IXBrand me, bite me, bitter thing!Thus He felt, and thus I amOne with Him in suffering,One with Him in bliss, the Lamb.Red of heat, O white of heat,Thus is bitterness made sweet.XNow am I, who bear that stampScorched in me, the living signSole on earth—the lighted lampOf the dreadful Day divine.White of heat, beat on it fast!Red of heat, its shape has passed.XIOut in angry sparks they fly,They that sentenced Him to bleed:Pontius and his troop: they die,Damned for ever for the deed!White of heat in vain they soar:Red of heat they strew the floor.XIIFury on it! have its debt!Thunder on the Hill accurst,Golgotha, be ye! and sweatBlood, and thirst the Passion’s thirst.Red of heat and white of heat,Champ it like fierce teeth that eat.XIIIStrike it as the ages crushTowers! for while a shape is seenI am rivalled.  Quench its blush,Devil!  But it crowns me Queen,Red of heat, as none before,White of heat, the circlet wore.XIVLowly I will be, and quail,Crawling, with a beggar’s hand:On my breast the branded Nail,On my head the iron band.Red of heat, are none so base!White of heat, none know such grace!XVIn their heaven the sainted hosts,Robed in violet unflecked,Gaze on humankind as ghosts:I draw down a ray direct.Red of heat, across my brow,White of heat, I touch Him now.XVIRobed in violet, robed in gold,Robed in pearl, they make our dawn.What am I to them?  BeholdWhat ye are to me, and fawn.Red of heat, be humble, ye!White of heat, O teach it me!XVIIMartyrs! hungry peaks in air,Rent with lightnings, clad with snow,Crowned with stars! you strip me bare,Pierce me, shame me, stretch me low,Red of heat, but it may be,White of heat, some envy me!XVIIIO poor enviers!  God’s own giftsHave a devil for the weak.Yea, the very force that liftsFinds the vessel’s secret leak.Red of heat, I rise o’er all:White of heat, I faint, I fall.XIXThose old Martyrs sloughed their pride,Taking humbleness like mirth.I am to His Glory tied,I that witness Him on earth!Red of heat, my pride of dust,White of heat, feeds fire in trust.XXKindle me to constant fire,Lest the nail be but a nail!Give me wings of great desire,Lest I look within, and fail!Red of heat, the furnace light,White of heat, fix on my sight.XXINever for the Chosen peace!Know, by me tormented know,Never shall the wrestling ceaseTill with our outlasting Foe,Red of heat to white of heat,Roll we to the Godhead’s feet!   Beat, beat! white of heat,   Red of heat, beat, beat!

A PREACHING FROM A SPANISH BALLAD

ILadies who in chains of wedlockChafe at an unequal yoke,Not to nightingales give hearing;Better this, the raven’s croak.IIDown the Prado strolled my seigneur,Arm at lordly bow on hip,Fingers trimming his moustachios,Eyes for pirate fellowship.IIIHome sat she that owned him master;Like the flower bent to groundRain-surcharged and sun-forsaken;Heedless of her hair unbound.IVSudden at her feet a loverPalpitating knelt and wooed;Seemed a very gift from heavenTo the starved of common food.VLove me? she his vows repeated:Fiery vows oft sung and thrummed:Wondered, as on earth a stranger;Thirsted, trusted, and succumbed.VIO beloved youth! my lover!Mine! my lover! take my lifeWholly: thine in soul and body,By this oath of more than wife!VIIKnow me for no helpless woman;Nay, nor coward, though I sinkAwed beside thee, like an infantLearning shame ere it can think.VIIISwing me hence to do thee service,Be thy succour, prove thy shield;Heaven will hear!—in house thy handmaid,Squire upon the battlefield.IXAt my breasts I cool thy footsoles;Wine I pour, I dress thy meats;Humbly, when my lord it pleaseth,Lie with him on perfumed sheets:XPray for him, my blood’s dear fountain,While he sleeps, and watch his yawnIn that wakening babelike moment,Sweeter to my thought than dawn!—XIThundered then her lord of thunders;Burst the door, and, flashing sword,Loud disgorged the woman’s title:Condemnation in one word.XIIGrand by righteous wrath transfigured,Towers the husband who providesIn his person judge and witness,Death’s black doorkeeper besides!XIIIRound his head the ancient terrors,Conjured of the stronger’s law,Circle, to abash the creatureDaring twist beneath his paw.XIVHow though he hath squandered HonourHigh of Honour let him scold:Gilding of the man’s possession,’Tis the woman’s coin of gold.XVShe inheriting from manyBleeding mothers bleeding senseFeels ’twixt her and sharp-fanged natureHonour first did plant the fence.XVINature, that so shrieks for justice;Honour’s thirst, that blood will slake;These are women’s riddles, roughlyMixed to write them saint or snake.XVIINever nature cherished woman:She throughout the sexes’ warServes as temptress and betrayer,Favouring man, the muscular.XVIIILureful is she, bent for folly;Doating on the child which crows:Yours to teach him grace in fealty,What the bloom is, what the rose.XIXHard the task: your prison-chamberWidens not for lifted latchTill the giant thews and sinewsMeet their Godlike overmatch.XXRead that riddle, scorning pity’sTears, of cockatrices shed:When the heart is vowed for freedom,Captaincy it yields to head.XXIMeanwhile you, freaked nature’s martyrs,Honour’s army, flower and weed,Gentle ladies, wedded ladies,See for you this fair one bleed.XXIISole stood her offence, she faltered;Prayed her lord the youth to spare;Prayed that in the orange gardenShe might lie, and ceased her prayer.XXIIIThen commanding to all womenChastity, her breasts she laidBare unto the self-avenger.Man in metal was the blade.

THE YOUNG PRINCESS

A BALLAD OF OLD LAWS OF LOVE

I

IWhen the South sang like a nightingale   Above a bower in May,The training of Love’s vine of flameWas writ in laws, for lord and dame   To say their yea and nay.IIWhen the South sang like a nightingale   Across the flowering night,And lord and dame held gentle sport,There came a young princess to Court,   A frost of beauty white.IIIThe South sang like a nightingale   To thaw her glittering dream:No vine of Love her bosom gave,She drank no wine of Love, but grave   She held them to Love’s theme.IVThe South grew all a nightingale   Beneath a moon unmoved:Like the banner of war she led them on;She left them to lie, like the light that has gone   From wine-cups overproved.VWhen the South was a fervid nightingale,   And she a chilling moon,’Twas pity to see on the garden swards,Against Love’s laws, those rival lords   As willow-wands lie strewn.VIThe South had throat of a nightingale   For her, the young princess:She gave no vine of Love to rear,Love’s wine drank not, yet bent her ear   To themes of Love no less.

II

IThe lords of the Court they sighed heart-sick,   Heart-free Lord Dusiote laughed:I prize her no more than a fling o’ the dice,But, or shame to my manhood, a lady of ice,   We master her by craft!IIHeart-sick the lords of joyance yawned,   Lord Dusiote laughed heart-free:I count her as much as a crack o’ my thumb,But, or shame of my manhood, to me she shall come   Like the bird to roost in the tree!IIIAt dead of night when the palace-guard   Had passed the measured rounds,The young princess awoke to feelA shudder of blood at the crackle of steel   Within the garden-bounds.IVIt ceased, and she thought of whom was need,   The friar or the leech;When lo, stood her tirewoman breathless by:Lord Dusiote, madam, to death is nigh,   Of you he would have speech.VHe prays you of your gentleness,   To light him to his dark end.The princess rose, and forth she went,For charity was her intent,   Devoutly to befriend.VILord Dusiote hung on his good squire’s arm,   The priest beside him knelt:A weeping handkerchief was pressedTo stay the red flood at his breast,   And bid cold ladies melt.VIIO lady, though you are ice to men,   All pure to heaven as lightWithin the dew within the flower,Of you ’tis whispered that love has power   When secret is the night.VIIII have silenced the slanderers, peace to their souls!   Save one was too cunning for me.I die, whose love is late avowed,He lives, who boasts the lily has bowed   To the oath of a bended knee.IXLord Dusiote drew breath with pain,   And she with pain drew breath:On him she looked, on his like above;She flew in the folds of a marvel of love   Revealed to pass to death.XYou are dying, O great-hearted lord,   You are dying for me, she cried;O take my hand, O take my kiss,And take of your right for love like this,   The vow that plights me bride.XIShe bade the priest recite his words   While hand in hand were they,Lord Dusiote’s soul to waft to bliss;He had her hand, her vow, her kiss,   And his body was borne away.

III

ILord Dusiote sprang from priest and squire;   He gazed at her lighted room:The laughter in his heart grew slack;He knew not the force that pushed him back   From her and the morn in bloom.IILike a drowned man’s length on the strong flood-tide,   Like the shade of a bird in the sun,He fled from his lady whom he might claimAs ghost, and who made the daybeams flame   To scare what he had done.IIIThere was grief at Court for one so gay,   Though he was a lord less keenFor training the vine than at vintage-press;But in her soul the young princess   Believed that love had been.IVLord Dusiote fled the Court and land,   He crossed the woeful seas,Till his traitorous doing seemed clearer to burn,And the lady beloved drew his heart for return,   Like the banner of war in the breeze.VHe neared the palace, he spied the Court,   And music he heard, and they toldOf foreign lords arrived to bringThe nuptial gifts of a bridegroom king   To the princess grave and cold.VIThe masque and the dance were cloud on wave,   And down the masque and the danceLord Dusiote stepped from dame to dame,And to the young princess he came,   With a bow and a burning glance.VIIDo you take a new husband to-morrow, lady?   She shrank as at prick of steel.Must the first yield place to the second, he sighed.Her eyes were like the grave that is wide   For the corpse from head to heel.VIIIMy lady, my love, that little hand   Has mine ringed fast in plight:I bear for your lips a lawful thirst,And as justly the second should follow the first,   I come to your door this night.IXIf a ghost should come a ghost will go:   No more the lady said,Save that ever when he in wrath beganTo swear by the faith of a living man,   She answered him, You are dead.

IV

IThe soft night-wind went laden to death   With smell of the orange in flower;The light leaves prattled to neighbour ears;The bird of the passion sang over his tears;   The night named hour by hour.IISang loud, sang low the rapturous bird   Till the yellow hour was nigh,Behind the folds of a darker cloud:He chuckled, he sobbed, alow, aloud;   The voice between earth and sky.IIIO will you, will you, women are weak;   The proudest are yielding matesFor a forward foot and a tongue of fire:So thought Lord Dusiote’s trusty squire,   At watch by the palace-gates.IVThe song of the bird was wine in his blood,   And woman the odorous bloom:His master’s great adventure stirredWithin him to mingle the bloom and bird,   And morn ere its coming illume.VBeside him strangely a piece of the dark   Had moved, and the undertonesOf a priest in prayer, like a cavernous wave,He heard, as were there a soul to save   For urgency now in the groans.VINo priest was hired for the play this night:   And the squire tossed head like a deerAt sniff of the tainted wind; he gazedWhere cresset-lamps in a door were raised,   Belike on a passing bier.VIIAll cloaked and masked, with naked blades,   That flashed of a judgement done,The lords of the Court, from the palace-door,Came issuing silently, bearers four,   And flat on their shoulders one.VIIIThey marched the body to squire and priest,   They lowered it sad to earth:The priest they gave the burial dole,Bade wrestle hourly for his soul,   Who was a lord of worth.IXOne said, farewell to a gallant knight!   And one, but a restless ghost!’Tis a year and a day since in this placeHe died, sped high by a lady of grace   To join the blissful host.XNot vainly on us she charged her cause,   The lady whom we revereFor faith in the mask of a love untrueTo the Love we honour, the Love her due,   The Love we have vowed to rear.XIA trap for the sweet tooth, lures for the light,   For the fortress defiant a mine:Right well!  But not in the South, princess,Shall the lady snared of her nobleness   Ever shamed or a captive pine.XIIWhen the South had voice of a nightingale   Above a Maying bower,On the heights of Love walked radiant peers;The bird of the passion sang over his tears   To the breeze and the orange-flower.

KING HARALD’S TRANCE

ISword in length a reaping-hook amainHarald sheared his field, blood up to shank:      ’Mid the swathes of slain,      First at moonrise drank.IIThereof hunger, as for meats the knife,Pricked his ribs, in one sharp spur to reach      Home and his young wife,      Nigh the sea-ford beach.IIIAfter battle keen to feed was he:Smoking flesh the thresher washed down fast,      Like an angry sea      Ships from keel to mast.IVName us glory, singer, name us prideMatching Harald’s in his deeds of strength;      Chiefs, wife, sword by side,      Foemen stretched their length!VHalf a winter night the toasts hurrahed,Crowned him, clothed him, trumpeted him high,      Till awink he bade      Wife to chamber fly.VITwice the sun had mounted, twice had sunk,Ere his ears took sound; he lay for dead;      Mountain on his trunk,      Ocean on his head.VIIClamped to couch, his fiery hearing suckedWhispers that at heart made iron-clang:      Here fool-women clucked,      There men held harangue.VIIIBurial to fit their lord of warThey decreed him: hailed the kingling: ha!      Hateful! but this Thor      Failed a weak lamb’s baa.IXKing they hailed a branchlet, shaped to fare,Weighted so, like quaking shingle spume,      When his blood’s own heir      Ripened in the womb!XStill he heard, and doglike, hoglike, ranNose of hearing till his blind sight saw:      Woman stood with man      Mouthing low, at paw.XIWoman, man, they mouthed; they spake a thingArmed to split a mountain, sunder seas:      Still the frozen king      Lay and felt him freeze.XIIDoglike, hoglike, horselike now he raced,Riderless, in ghost across a ground      Flint of breast, blank-faced,      Past the fleshly bound.XIIISmell of brine his nostrils filled with might:Nostrils quickened eyelids, eyelids hand:      Hand for sword at right      Groped, the great haft spanned.XIVWonder struck to ice his people’s eyes:Him they saw, the prone upon the bier,      Sheer from backbone rise,      Sword uplifting peer.XVSitting did he breathe against the blade,Standing kiss it for that proof of life:      Strode, as netters wade,      Straightway to his wife.XVIHer he eyed: his judgement was one word,Foulbed! and she fell: the blow clove two.      Fearful for the third,      All their breath indrew.XVIIMorning danced along the waves to beach;Dumb his chiefs fetched breath for what might hap:      Glassily on each      Stared the iron cap.XVIIISudden, as it were a monster oakSplit to yield a limb by stress of heat,      Strained he, staggered, broke      Doubled at their feet.

WHIMPER OF SYMPATHY

Hawk or shrike has done this deedOf downy feathers: rueful sight!Sweet sentimentalist, inviteYour bosom’s Power to intercede.So hard it seems that one must bleedBecause another needs will bite!All round we find cold Nature slightThe feelings of the totter-knee’d.O it were pleasant with youTo fly from this tussle of foes,The shambles, the charnel, the wrinkle!To dwell in yon dribble of dewOn the cheek of your sovereign rose,And live the young life of a twinkle.

YOUNG REYNARD

IGracefullest leaper, the dappled fox-cubCurves over brambles with berries and buds,Light as a bubble that flies from the tub,Whisked by the laundry-wife out of her suds.Wavy he comes, woolly, all at his ease,Elegant, fashioned to foot with the deuce;Nature’s own prince of the dance: then he seesMe, and retires as if making excuse.IINever closed minuet courtlier!  SoonCub-hunting troops were abroad, and a yelpTold of sure scent: ere the stroke upon noonReynard the younger lay far beyond help.Wild, my poor friend, has the fate to be chased;Civil will conquer: were ’t other ’twere worse;Fair, by the flushed early morning embraced,Haply you live a day longer in verse.