The Unknown Eros | Page 7

ready smile!
Beneath the heroic sun?Is there then none?Whose sinewy wings by choice do fly?In the fine mountain-air of public obloquy,?To tell the sleepy mongers of false ease?That war's the ordained way of all alive,?And therein with goodwill to dare and thrive?Is profit and heart's peace?
But in his heart the fool now saith:?'The thoughts of Heaven were past all finding out,?Indeed, if it should rain?Intolerable woes upon our Land again,?After so long a drought!'
'Will a kind Providence our vessel whelm,?With such a pious Pilot at the helm?'
'Or let the throats be cut of pretty sheep?That care for nought but pasture rich and deep?'
'Were 't Evangelical of God to deal so foul a blow?At people who hate Turks and Papists so?'
'What, make or keep?A tax for ship and gun,?When 'tis full three to one?Yon bully but intends?To beat our friends?'
'Let's put aside?Our costly pride.?Our appetite's not gone?Because we've learn'd to doff?Our caps, where we were used to keep them on.'
'If times get worse,?We've money in our purse,?And Patriots that know how, let who will scoff,?To buy our perils off.?Yea, blessed in our midst?Art thou who lately didst,?So cheap,?The old bargain of the Saxon with the Dane.' {35}
Thus in his heart the fool now saith;?And, lo, our trusted leaders trust fool's luck,?Which, like the whale's 'mazed chine,?When they thereon were mulling of their wine,?Will some day duck.
Remnant of Honour, brooding in the dark?Over your bitter cark,?Staring, as Rispah stared, astonied seven days,?Upon the corpses of so many sons,?Who loved her once,?Dead in the dim and lion-haunted ways,?Who could have dreamt?That times should come like these!?Prophets, indeed, taught lies when we were young,?And people loved to have it so;?For they teach well who teach their scholars' tongue!?But that the foolish both should gaze,?With feeble, fascinated face,?Upon the wan crest of the coming woe,?The billow of earthquake underneath the seas,?And sit at ease,?Or stand agape,?Without so much as stepping back to 'scape,?Mumbling, 'Perchance we perish if we stay:?'Tis certain wear of shoes to stir away!'?Who could have dreamt?That times should come like these!?Remnant of Honour, tongue-tied with contempt,?Consider; you are strong yet, if you please.?A hundred just men up, and arm'd but with a frown,?May hoot a hundred thousand false loons down,?Or drive them any way like geese.?But to sit silent now is to suborn?The common villainy you scorn.?In the dark hour?When phrases are in power,?And nought's to choose between?The thing which is not and which is not seen,?One fool, with lusty lungs,?Does what a hundred wise, who hate and hold their tongues,?Shall ne'er undo.?In such an hour,?When eager hands are fetter'd and too few,?And hearts alone have leave to bleed,?Speak; for a good word then is a good deed.
XVI. A FAREWELL.
With all my will, but much against my heart,?We two now part.?My Very Dear,?Our solace is, the sad road lies so clear.?It needs no art,?With faint, averted feet?And many a tear,?In our opposed paths to persevere.?Go thou to East, I West.?We will not say?There's any hope, it is so far away.?But, O, my Best,?When the one darling of our widowhead,?The nursling Grief,?Is dead,?And no dews blur our eyes?To see the peach-bloom come in evening skies,?Perchance we may,?Where now this night is day,?And even through faith of still averted feet,?Making full circle of our banishment,?Amazed meet;?The bitter journey to the bourne so sweet?Seasoning the termless feast of our content?With tears of recognition never dry.
XVII. 1880-85.
Stand by,?Ye Wise, by whom Heav'n rules!?Your kingly hands suit not the hangman's tools.?When God has doom'd a glorious Past to die,?Are there no knaves and fools??For ages yet to come your kind shall count for nought.?Smoke of the strife of other Powers?Than ours,?And tongues inscrutable with fury fraught?'Wilder the sky,?Till the far good which none can guess be wrought.?Stand by!?Since tears are vain, here let us rest and laugh,?But not too loudly; for the brave time's come,?When Best may not blaspheme the Bigger Half,?And freedom for our sort means freedom to be dumb.
Lo, how the dross and draff?Jeer up at us, and shout,?'The Day is ours, the Night is theirs!'?And urge their rout?Where the wild dawn of rising Tartarus flares.?Yon strives their Leader, lusting to be seen.?His leprosy's so perfect that men call him clean!?Listen the long, sincere, and liberal bray?Of the earnest Puller at another's hay?'Gainst aught that dares to tug the other way,?Quite void of fears?With all that noise of ruin round his ears!?Yonder the people cast their caps o'erhead,?And swear the threaten'd doom is ne'er to dread?That's come, though not yet past.?All front the horror and are none aghast;?Brag of their full-blown rights and liberties,?Nor once surmise?When each man gets his due the Nation dies;?Nay, still shout 'Progress!' as if seven plagues?Should take the laggard who would stretch his legs.?Forward! glad rush of Gergesenian swine;?You've gain'd the hill-top, but there's yet the brine.?Forward! to meet the welcome