Fringilla: Some Tales In Verse | Page 4

she answered, deeply sighing,?As the maid grew womanish--?"Love, how hard have I been trying'?To believe the thing I wish!
"Thou hast taught me holy teachings,?Where to offer my beseechings,?Homage due to Heaven alone,?Not to ghosts, and graven stone,
"Thou hast shown me truth and freedom,?Love, and faith in One most High;?But thou hast not, Prince of Edom,?Taught me therewithal, to lie.
XIV
"Little cause had I for fretting,?None on earth to be regretting;?Till I saw thee, brave and kind;?And my heart undid my mind.
"Better, if the Gods had slain me,?When no difference could be;?Ere the joy had come to pain me,?And, alas, my dear one, thee!
"But shall my poor life throw shame on?Royal lineage of Amor??Tis of Egypt's oldest strains;?Kingly blood flows in my veins.
XV
"Thou hast seen; my faith is plighted,?That I will not fly my doom.?Honour is a flower unblighted,?Though the fates cut off its bloom.
"I have sent my last sun sleeping,?And I am ashamed of weeping.?God, my new God, give me grace?To be worthy of my race.
"Though this death our bodies sever,?Thou shalt find me there above;?Where I shall be learning ever,?To be worthy of thy love."
XVI
From his gaze she turned, to borrow?Pride's assistance against sorrow--?God vouchsafes that scanty loan,?When He taketh all our own.
Sudden thought of heaven's inspiring?Flashed through bold Duke Iram's heart;?Angels more than stand admiring,?When a man takes his own part.
'Tis the law the Lord hath taught us,?To undo what Satan wrought us;?To confound the foul fiend's plan,?With the manliness of man.
XVII
"Thou art right," he answered lowly,?As a youth should sneak a maid;?"Like thyself, thy word is holy;?Love is hate, if it degrade.
"But when thou hast well surrendered,?And thy sacrifice is tendered--?God do so, and more to me,?If I slay not, who slay thee!
"Abraham's God hath ne'er forsaken?Them who trust in Him alway.?Thy sweet life shall not be taken.?Rest, and calm thee, while I pray."
XVIII
Like a little child, that kneeleth?To tell God whate'er he feeleth,?Bent the tall young warrior there,?And the palm-trees whispered prayer.
She, outworn with woe and weeping,?Shared that influence from above;?And the fear of death went sleeping?In the maiden faith and love.
Less the stormy water waileth,?E'en the human tumult faileth;?Stars their silent torches light,?To conduct the car of night
PART III
I
Lo, how bright-eyed morn awaketh?Tower and temple, nook and Nile;?How the sun exultant maketh?All the world return his smile!
O'er the dry sand, vapour twinkleth,?Like an eye when old age wrinkleth;?While, along the watered shore?Runs a river of gold ore.
Temple-front and court resemble?Mirrors swung in wavering light;?While the tapering columns tremble?At the view of their own height.
II
Marble shaft, and granite portal,?Statues of the Gods immortal?Quiver, with their figures bent,?In a liquid pediment
Thence the flood-leat followeth swiftly,?Where the peasant, spade in hand,?Guideth many a runnel deftly?Through his fruit and pasture-land;
Oft, the irriguous bank cross-slicing,?Plaited trickles he keeps enticing;?Till their gravelly gush he feels,?Overtaking his brown heels.
III
Life--that long hath born the test of?More than ours could bear, and live,?Springs anew, to make the best of?Every chance the Gods may give,
Doum-tree stiffeneth flagging feather;?Pate-leaves cease to cling together;?Citrons clear their welted rind;?Vines their mildewed sprays unwind.
Gourds, and melons, spread new lustre?On their veiny dull shagreen;?While the starred pomegranates cluster?Golden balls, with pink between.
IV
Yea, but heaven hath ordered duly,?Lest mankind should wax unruly,?Egypt, garner of all lore,?Narrow as a threshing-floor.
East, and West, lies desolation,?Infinite, untracked, untold?Shroud for all of God's creation,?When the wild blast lifts its fold;
There eternal melancholy?Maketh all delight unholy;?As a stricken widow glides?Past a group of laughing brides.
Who is this, that so disdaineth?Dome and desert, fear and fate;?While his jewell'd horse he reineth.?At Amen-Ra's temple-gate?
He, who crushed the kings of Asia,?Like a pod of colocasia;?Whom the sons of Anak fled,?Puling infants at his tread.
Who, with his own shoulders, lifted?Thrones of many a conquered land;?Who the rocks of Scythia rifted--?King Sesostris waves his hand
VI
Blare of trumpet fills the valley;?Slowly, and majestically,?Swingeth wide, in solemn state,?Lord Amen-Ra's temple-gate.
Thence the warrior-host emeigeth,?Casque, and corselet, spear, and shield;?As the tide of red ore suigeth?From the furnace-door revealed.
After them, tumultuous rushing,?Mob, and medley, crowd, and crushing;?And the hungry file of priests,?Loosely zoned for larger feasts.
VII
"Look!" The whispered awe enhances?With a thrill their merry treat;?As one readeth grim romances,?In a sunny window-seat
"Look! It is the maid selected?For the sacrifice expected:?By the Gods, how proud and brave?Steps she to her watery grave!"
Strike up cymbals, gongs, and tabours,?Clarions, double-flutes, and drums;?All that bellows, or belabours,?In a surging discord comes.
VIII
Scarce Duke Iram can keep under?His wild steed's disdain and wonder,?While his large eyes ask alway--?"Dareth man attempt to neigh?"
He hath snuffed the great Sahara,?And the mute parade of stars;?Shall he brook this shrill fanfara,?Ramshorns, pigskins, screechy jars?
What hath he to do with rabble??Froth is better than their babble;?Let him toss them flakes of froth,?To pronounce his scorn and wrath.
IX
With his nostrils fierce dilating,?With his crest a curling sea,?All his volumed power is waiting?For the will, to set it free.
"Peace,