Rhymes à la Mode | Page 8

clay?Clings to thy shoon in sudden shower's downpour,?And running still thou stumblest, or the ray?Of blazing suns doth bite and burn thee sore,?And blind thee till, forgetful of thy lore,?Thou dost most mournfully misjudge a "skyer,"?And lose a match the Fates cannot restore, -?"This is the end of every man's desire!"
ENVOY.
Alas, yet liefer on Youth's hither shore?Would I be some poor Player on scant hire,?Than King among the old, who play no more, -?"THIS is the end of every man's desire!"
THE LAST MAYING
"It is told of the last Lovers which watched May-night in the forest, before men brought the tidings of the Gospel to this land, that they beheld no Fairies, nor Dwarfs, nor no such Thing, but the very Venus herself, who bade them 'make such cheer as they might, for' said she, 'I shall live no more in these Woods, nor shall ye endure to see another May time.'"--EDMUND GORLIOT, "Of Phantasies and Omens," p. 149. (1573.)
"Whence do ye come, with the dew on your hair??From what far land are the boughs ye bear,?The blossoms and buds upon breasts and tresses,?The light burned white in your faces fair?"
"In a falling fane have we built our house,?With the dying Gods we have held carouse,?And our lips are wan from their wild caresses,?Our hands are filled with their holy boughs.
As we crossed the lawn in the dying day?No fairy led us to meet the May,?But the very Goddess loved by lovers,?In mourning raiment of green and grey.
She was not decked as for glee and game,?She was not veiled with the veil of flame,?The saffron veil of the Bride that covers?The face that is flushed with her joy and shame.
On the laden branches the scent and dew?Mingled and met, and as snow to strew?The woodland rides and the fragrant grasses,?White flowers fell as the night wind blew.
Tears and kisses on lips and eyes?Mingled and met amid laughter and sighs?For grief that abides, and joy that passes,?For pain that tarries and mirth that flies.
It chanced as the dawning grew to grey?Pale and sad on our homeward way,?With weary lips, and palled with pleasure?The Goddess met us, farewell to say.
"Ye have made your choice, and the better part,?Ye chose" she said, "and the wiser art;?In the wild May night drank all the measure,?The perfect pleasure of heart and heart.
"Ye shall walk no more with the May," she said,?"Shall your love endure though the Gods be dead??Shall the flitting flocks, mine own, my chosen,?Sing as of old, and be happy and wed?
"Yea, they are glad as of old; but you,?Fair and fleet as the dawn or the dew,?Abide no more, for the springs are frozen,?And fled the Gods that ye loved and knew.
Ye shall never know Summer again like this;?Ye shall play no more with the Fauns, I wis,?No more in the nymphs' and dryads' playtime?Shall echo and answer kiss and kiss.
"Though the flowers in your golden hair be bright,?Your golden hair shall be waste and white?On faded brows ere another May time?Bring the spring, but no more delight."
HOMERIC UNITY
The sacred keep of Ilion is rent?By shaft and pit; foiled waters wander slow?Through plains where Simois and Scamander went?To war with Gods and heroes long ago.?Not yet to tired Cassandra, lying low?In rich Mycenae, do the Fates relent:?The bones of Agamemnon are a show,?And ruined is his royal monument.
The dust and awful treasures of the Dead,?Hath Learning scattered wide, but vainly thee,?Homer, she meteth with her tool of lead,?And strives to rend thy songs; too blind to see?The crown that burns on thine immortal head?Of indivisible supremacy!
IN TINTAGEL
LUI.
Ah lady, lady, leave the creeping mist,?And leave the iron castle by the sea!
ELLE.
Nay, from the sea there came a ghost that kissed?My lips, and so I cannot come to thee!
LUI.
Ah lady, leave the cruel landward wind?That crusts the blighted flowers with bitter foam!
ELLE.
Nay, for his arms are cold and strong to bind,?And I must dwell with him and make my home!
LUI.
Come, for the Spring is fair in Joyous Guard?And down deep alleys sweet birds sing again.
ELLE.
But I must tarry with the winter hard,?And with the bitter memory of pain,?Although the Spring be fair in Joyous Guard,?And in the gardens glad birds sing again!
PISIDICE
The incident is from the Love Stories of Parthenius, who preserved fragments of a lost epic on the expedition of Achilles against Lesbos, an island allied with Troy.
The daughter of the Lesbian king?Within her bower she watched the war,?Far off she heard the arrows ring,?The smitten harness ring afar;?And, fighting from the foremost car,?Saw one that smote where all must flee;?More fair than the Immortals are?He seemed to fair Pisidice!
She saw, she loved him, and her heart?Before Achilles, Peleus' son,?Threw all its guarded gates apart,?A maiden fortress lightly won!?And, ere that day of fight was done,?No more of land or faith recked she,?But joyed