Sonnets, and Sonnets on English Dramatic Poets (1590-1650) | Page 7

in freedom strong to abide?And spirit at one with spirit on either side.
April 3, 1882.
SIR WILLIAM GOMM
I
At threescore years and five aroused anew?To rule in India, forth a soldier went?On whose bright-fronted youth fierce war had spent?Its iron stress of storm, till glory grew?Full as the red sun waned on Waterloo.?Landing, he met the word from England sent?Which bade him yield up rule: and he, content,?Resigned it, as a mightier warrior's due;?And wrote as one rejoicing to record?That "from the first" his royal heart was lord?Of its own pride or pain; that thought was none?Therein save this, that in her perilous strait?England, whose womb brings forth her sons so great,?Should choose to serve her first her mightiest son.
II
Glory beyond all flight of warlike fame?Go with the warrior's memory who preferred?To praise of men whereby men's hearts are stirred,?And acclamation of his own proud name?With blare of trumpet-blasts and sound and flame?Of pageant honour, and the titular word?That only wins men worship of the herd,?His country's sovereign good; who overcame?Pride, wrath, and hope of all high chance on earth,?For this land's love that gave his great heart birth.?O nursling of the sea-winds and the sea,?Immortal England, goddess ocean-born,?What shall thy children fear, what strengths not scorn,?While children of such mould are born to thee?
SONNETS
ON
ENGLISH DRAMATIC POETS
(1590-1650)
I
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE
Crowned, girdled, garbed and shod with light and fire,?Son first-born of the morning, sovereign star!?Soul nearest ours of all, that wert most far,?Most far off in the abysm of time, thy lyre?Hung highest above the dawn-enkindled quire?Where all ye sang together, all that are,?And all the starry songs behind thy car?Rang sequence, all our souls acclaim thee sire.
"If all the pens that ever poets held?Had fed the feeling of their masters' thoughts,"?And as with rush of hurtling chariots?The flight of all their spirits were impelled?Toward one great end, thy glory--nay, not then,?Not yet might'st thou be praised enough of men.
II
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Not if men's tongues and angels' all in one?Spake, might the word be said that might speak Thee.?Streams, winds, woods, flowers, fields, mountains, yea, the sea, What power is in them all to praise the sun??His praise is this,--he can be praised of none.?Man, woman, child, praise God for him; but he?Exults not to be worshipped, but to be.?He is; and, being, beholds his work well done.?All joy, all glory, all sorrow, all strength, all mirth,?Are his: without him, day were night on earth.?Time knows not his from time's own period.?All lutes, all harps, all viols, all flutes, all lyres,?Fall dumb before him ere one string suspires.?All stars are angels; but the sun is God.
III
BEN JONSON
Broad-based, broad-fronted, bounteous, multiform,?With many a valley impleached with ivy and vine,?Wherein the springs of all the streams run wine,?And many a crag full-faced against the storm,?The mountain where thy Muse's feet made warm?Those lawns that revelled with her dance divine?Shines yet with fire as it was wont to shine?From tossing torches round the dance aswarm.
Nor less, high-stationed on the grey grave heights,?High-thoughted seers with heaven's heart-kindling lights?Hold converse: and the herd of meaner things?Knows or by fiery scourge or fiery shaft?When wrath on thy broad brows has risen, and laughed?Darkening thy soul with shadow of thunderous wings.
IV
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER
An hour ere sudden sunset fired the west,?Arose two stars upon the pale deep east.?The hall of heaven was clear for night's high feast,?Yet was not yet day's fiery heart at rest.?Love leapt up from his mother's burning breast?To see those warm twin lights, as day decreased,?Wax wider, till when all the sun had ceased?As suns they shone from evening's kindled crest.?Across them and between, a quickening fire,?Flamed Venus, laughing with appeased desire.?Their dawn, scarce lovelier for the gleam of tears,?Filled half the hollow shell 'twixt heaven and earth?With sound like moonlight, mingling moan and mirth,?Which rings and glitters down the darkling years.
V
PHILIP MASSINGER
Clouds here and there arisen an hour past noon?Chequered our English heaven with lengthening bars?And shadow and sound of wheel-winged thunder-cars?Assembling strength to put forth tempest soon,?When the clear still warm concord of thy tune?Rose under skies unscared by reddening Mars?Yet, like a sound of silver speech of stars,?With full mild flame as of the mellowing moon.?Grave and great-hearted Massinger, thy face?High melancholy lights with loftier grace?Than gilds the brows of revel: sad and wise,?The spirit of thought that moved thy deeper song,?Sorrow serene in soft calm scorn of wrong,?Speaks patience yet from thy majestic eyes.
VI
JOHN FORD
Hew hard the marble from the mountain's heart?Where hardest night holds fast in iron gloom?Gems brighter than an April dawn in bloom,?That his Memnonian likeness thence may start?Revealed, whose hand with high funereal art?Carved night, and chiselled shadow: be the tomb?That speaks him famous graven with signs of doom?Intrenched inevitably in lines athwart,?As on some thunder-blasted Titan's brow?His record of rebellion. Not the day?Shall strike forth music from so stern a chord,?Touching