Poems of George Meredith, vol 1 | Page 3

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Poems by George Meredith--Volume 1
CHILLIANWALLAH
Chillanwallah, Chillanwallah!?Where our brothers fought and bled,?O thy name is natural music?And a dirge above the dead!?Though we have not been defeated,?Though we can't be overcome,?Still, whene'er thou art repeated,?I would fain that grief were dumb.
Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!?'Tis a name so sad and strange,?Like a breeze through midnight harpstrings?Ringing many a mournful change;?But the wildness and the sorrow?Have a meaning of their own -?Oh, whereof no glad to-morrow?Can relieve the dismal tone!
Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!?'Tis a village dark and low,?By the bloody Jhelum river?Bridged by the foreboding foe;?And across the wintry water?He is ready to retreat,?When the carnage and the slaughter?Shall have paid for his defeat.
Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!?'Tis a wild and dreary plain,?Strewn with plots of thickest jungle,?Matted with the gory stain.?There the murder-mouthed artillery,?In the deadly ambuscade,?Wrought the thunder of its treachery?On the skeleton brigade.
Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!?When the night set in with rain,?Came the savage plundering devils?To their work among the slain;?And the wounded and the dying?In cold blood did share the doom?Of their comrades round them lying,?Stiff in the dead skyless gloom.
Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!?Thou wilt be a doleful chord,?And a mystic note of mourning?That will need no chiming word;?And that heart will leap with anguish?Who may understand thee best;?But the hopes of all will languish?Till thy memory is at rest.
THE DOE: A FRAGMENT (From 'WANDERING WILLIE')
And--'Yonder look! yoho! yoho!?Nancy is off!' the farmer cried,?Advancing by the river side,?Red-kerchieft and brown-coated;--'So,?My girl, who else could leap like that??So neatly! like a lady! 'Zounds!?Look at her how she leads the hounds!'?And waving his dusty beaver hat,?He cheered across the chase-filled water,?And clapt his arm about his daughter,?And gave to Joan a courteous hug,?And kiss that, like a stubborn plug?From generous vats in vastness rounded,?The inner wealth and spirit sounded:?Eagerly pointing South, where, lo,?The daintiest, fleetest-footed doe?Led o'er the fields and thro' the furze?Beyond: her lively delicate ears?Prickt up erect, and in her track?A dappled lengthy-striding pack.
Scarce had they cast eyes upon her,?When every heart was wagered on her,?And half in dread, and half delight,?They watched her lovely bounding flight;?As now across the flashing green,?And now beneath the stately trees,?And now far distant in the dene,?She headed on with graceful ease:?Hanging aloft with doubled knees,?At times athwart some hedge or gate;?And slackening pace by slow degrees,?As for the foremost foe to wait.?Renewing her outstripping rate?Whene'er the hot pursuers neared,?By garden wall and paled estate,?Where clambering gazers whooped and cheered.?Here winding under elm and oak,?And slanting up the sunny hill:?Splashing the water here like smoke?Among the mill-holms round the mill.
And--'Let her go; she shows her game,?My Nancy girl, my pet and treasure!'?The farmer sighed: his eyes with pleasure?Brimming: ''Tis my daughter's name,?My second daughter lying yonder.'?And Willie's eye in search did wander,?And caught at once, with moist regard,?The white gleams of a grey churchyard.?'Three weeks before my girl had gone,?And while upon her pillows propped,?She lay at eve; the weakling fawn -?For still it seems a fawn just dropt?A se'nnight--to my Nancy's bed?I brought to make my girl a gift:?The mothers of them both were dead:?And both to bless it was my drift,?By giving each a friend; not thinking?How rapidly my girl was sinking.?And I remember how, to pat?Its neck, she stretched her hand so weak,?And its cold nose against her cheek?Pressed fondly: and I fetched the mat?To make it up a couch just by her,?Where in the lone dark hours to lie:?For neither dear old nurse nor I?Would any single wish deny her.?And there unto the last it lay;?And in the pastures cared to play?Little or nothing: there its meals?And milk I brought: and even now?The creature such affection feels?For that old room that, when and how,?'Tis strange to mark, it slinks and steals?To get there, and all day conceals.?And once when nurse who, since that time,?Keeps house for me, was very sick,?Waking upon the midnight chime,?And listening to the stair-clock's click,?I heard a rustling, half uncertain,?Close against the dark bed-curtain:?And while I thrust my leg to kick,?And feel the phantom with my feet,?A loving tongue began to lick?My left hand lying on the sheet;?And warm sweet breath upon me blew,?And that 'twas Nancy then I knew.?So, for her love, I had good cause?To have the creature "Nancy" christened.'
He paused, and in the moment's pause,?His eyes and Willie's strangely glistened.?Nearer came Joan, and Bessy hung?With face averted, near enough?To hear, and sob unheard; the young?And careless ones had scampered off?Meantime, and sought the loftiest place?To beacon the approaching chase.
'Daily upon the meads to browse,?Goes Nancy with those