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COLLECTED POEMS
BY
ALFRED NOYES
VOLUME TWO
NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1906, 1907, 1908, BY
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1909, 1910, 1911, BY
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1906, 1909, BY
ALFRED NOYES
_All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign
languages, including the Scandinavian. All dramatic and acting rights,
both professional and amateur, are reserved. Application for the right
of performing should be made to the publishers._
_October, 1913_
CONTENTS
PAGE
MIST IN THE VALLEY 1
A SONG OF THE PLOUGH 4
THE BANNER 6
RANK AND FILE 6
THE SKY-LARK CAGED 11
THE LOVERS' FLIGHT 13
THE ROCK POOL 16
THE ISLAND HAWK 20
THE ADMIRAL'S GHOST 26
EDINBURGH 29
IN A RAILWAY CARRIAGE 30
AN EAST-END COFFEE-STALL 32
RED OF THE DAWN 33
THE DREAM-CHILD'S INVITATION 35
THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED 37
ON THE DOWNS 50
A MAY-DAY CAROL 52
THE CALL OF THE SPRING 53
A DEVONSHIRE DITTY 55
BACCHUS AND THE PIRATES 56
THE NEWSPAPER BOY 64
THE TWO WORLDS 66
GORSE 68
FOR THE EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY OF GEORGE MEREDITH 69
IN MEMORY OF SWINBURNE 70
ON THE DEATH OF FRANCIS THOMPSON 72
IN MEMORY OF MEREDITH 74
THE TESTIMONY OF ART 76
THE SCHOLARS 76
RESURRECTION 77
A JAPANESE LOVE-SONG 78
THE TWO PAINTERS 79
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND 88
UNITY 92
THE HILL-FLOWER 93
ACTAEON 95
LUCIFER'S FEAST 101
VETERANS 107
THE QUEST RENEWED 108
THE LIGHTS OF HOME 109
'TWEEN THE LIGHTS 110
CREATION 113
THE PEACEMAKER 115
THE SAILOR-KING 117
THE FIDDLER'S FAREWELL 118
TO A PESSIMIST 119
MOUNT IDA 120
THE ELECTRIC TRAM 127
SHERWOOD 128
TALES OF THE MERMAID TAVERN
I A KNIGHT OF THE OCEAN-SEA 274
II A COINER OF ANGELS 285
III BLACK BILL'S HONEY-MOON 303
IV THE SIGN OF THE GOLDEN SHOE 322
V THE COMPANION OF A MILE 340
VI BIG BEN 351
VII THE BURIAL OF A QUEEN 361
VIII FLOS MERCATORUM 386
IX RALEIGH 411
A WATCHWORD OF THE FLEET 434
NEW WARS FOR OLD 435
THE PRAYER FOR PEACE 436
THE SWORD OF ENGLAND 438
THE DAWN OF PEACE 438
THE BRINGERS OF GOOD NEWS 440
THE LONELY SHRINE 442
TO A FRIEND OF BOYHOOD LOST AT SEA 443
OUR LADY OF THE TWILIGHT 444
THE HILL-FLOWERS 445
THE CAROL OF THE FIR-TREE 447
LAVENDER 450
COLLECTED POEMS
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND AND OTHER POEMS
MIST IN THE VALLEY
I
Mist in the valley, weeping mist
Beset my homeward way.
No gleam of rose or amethyst
Hallowed the parting day;
A shroud, a shroud of awful grey
Wrapped every woodland brow,
And drooped in crumbling disarray
Around each wintry bough.
II
And closer round me now it clung
Until I scarce could see
The stealthy pathway overhung
By silent tree and tree
Which floated in that mystery
As--poised in waveless deeps--
Branching in worlds below the sea,
The grey sea-forest sleeps.
III
Mist in the valley, mist no less
Within my groping mind!
The stile swam out: a wilderness
Rolled round it, grey and blind.
A yard in front, a yard behind,
So strait my world was grown,
I stooped to win once more some kind
Glimmer of twig or stone.
IV
I crossed and lost the friendly stile
And listened. Never a sound
Came to me. Mile on mile on mile
It seemed the world around
Beneath some infinite sea lay drowned
With all that e'er drew breath;
Whilst I, alone, had strangely found
A moment's life in death.
V
A universe of lifeless grey
Oppressed me overhead.
Below, a yard of clinging clay
With rotting foliage red
Glimmered. The stillness of the dead,
Hark!--was it broken now
By the slow drip of tears that bled
From hidden heart or bough.
VI
Mist in the valley, mist no less
That muffled every cry
Across the soul's grey wilderness
Where faith lay down to die;
Buried beyond all hope was I,
Hope had no meaning there:
A yard above my head the sky
Could only mock at prayer.
VII
E'en as I groped along, the gloom
Suddenly shook at my feet!
O, strangely as from a rending tomb
In resurrection, sweet
Swift wings tumultuously beat
Away! I paused to hark--
O, birds of thought, too fair, too fleet
To follow across the dark!
VIII
Yet, like a madman's dream, there came
One fair swift flash to me
Of distances, of streets a-flame
With joy and agony,
And further yet, a moon-lit sea
Foaming across its bars,
And further yet, the infinity
Of wheeling suns and stars,
IX
And further yet ... O, mist of suns
I grope amidst your light,
O, further yet, what vast response
From what transcendent height?
Wild wings that burst thro' death's dim night
I can but pause and hark;
For O, ye are too swift, too white,
To follow across the dark!
X
Mist in the valley, yet I saw,
And in my soul I knew
The gleaming City whence I draw
The strength that then I drew,
My misty pathway to pursue
With steady pulse and breath
Through these dim forest-ways of dew
And darkness, life and death.
A SONG OF THE PLOUGH
I
(_Morning._)
Idle, comfortless, bare,
The broad bleak acres lie:
The ploughman guides the sharp ploughshare
Steadily nigh.
The big plough-horses lift
And climb from the marge of the sea,
And the clouds of their breath on the clear wind drift
Over the fallow lea.
Streaming up with the yoke,
Brown as the sweet-smelling loam,
Thro' a sun-swept smother of sweat and smoke
The two great horses come.
Up thro' the raw cold morn
They trample and drag and swing;
And my dreams are waving with ungrown corn
In a far-off spring.
It is my soul lies bare
Between the hills and the sea:
Come, ploughman Life, with thy sharp ploughshare,
And plough the field for me.
II
(_Evening._)
Over the darkening plain
As the stars regain the sky,
Steals the chime of an unseen rein
Steadily nigh.
Lost in the deepening red
The sea has forgotten the shore:
The great dark steeds with their muffled tread
Draw near once more.
To the furrow's end they sweep
Like a sombre wave of the sea,
Lifting its crest to challenge the deep
Hush of Eternity.
Still for a moment they stand,
Massed on the sun's red death,
A surge of bronze, too great, too grand,
To endure for more than a breath.
Only the billow and stream
Of muscle and flank and mane
Like darkling mountain-cataracts gleam
Gripped in a Titan's rein.
Once more from the furrow's end
They wheel to the fallow lea,
And down the muffled slope descend
To the sleeping sea.
And the fibrous knots of clay,
And the sun-dried clots of earth
Cleave, and the sunset cloaks the grey
Waste and the stony dearth!
O, broad and dusky and sweet,
The sunset covers the weald;
But my dreams are waving with golden wheat
In a still strange field.
My soul, my soul lies bare,
Between the hills and the sea;
Come, ploughman Death, with thy sharp ploughshare,
And plough the field for me.
THE BANNER
Who in the gorgeous vanguard of the years
With winged helmet glistens, let him hold
Ere he pluck down this banner, crying "It bears
An old device"; for, though it seem the old,
It is the new! No rent shroud of the past,
But its transfigured spirit that still shines
Triumphantly before the foremost lines,
Even from the first prophesying the last.
And whoso dreams to pluck it down shall stand
Bewildered, while the great host thunders by;
And he shall show the rent shroud in his hand
And "Lo, I lead the van!" he still shall cry;
While leagues away, the spirit-banner shines
Rushing in triumph before the foremost lines.
RANK AND FILE
I
Drum-taps! Drum-taps! Who is it marching,
Marching past in the night? Ah, hark,
Draw your curtains aside and see
Endless ranks of the stars o'er-arching
Endless ranks of an army marching,
Marching out of the measureless dark,
Marching away to Eternity.
II
See the gleam of the white sad faces
Moving steadily, row on row,
Marching away to their hopeless wars:
Drum-taps, drum-taps, where are they marching?
Terrible, beautiful, human faces,
Common as dirt, but softer than snow,
Coarser than clay, but calm as the stars.
III
Is it the last rank readily, steadily
Swinging away to the unknown doom?
Ere you can think it, the drum-taps beat
Louder, and here they come marching, marching,
Great new level locked ranks of them readily
Steadily swinging out of the gloom
Marching endlessly down the street.
IV
Unregarded imperial regiments
White from the roaring intricate places
Deep in the maw of the world's machine,
Well content, they are marching, marching,
Unregarded imperial regiments,
Ay, and there are those terrible faces
Great world-heroes that might have been.
V
Hints and facets of One--the Eternal,
Faces of grief, compassion and pain,
Faces of hunger, faces of stone,
Faces of love and of labour, marching,
Changing facets of One--the Eternal,
Streaming up thro' the wind and the rain,
All together and each alone.
VI
You that doubt of the world's one Passion,
You for whose science the stars are a-stray,
Hark--to their orderly thunder-tread!
These, in the night, with the stars are marching
One to the end of the world's one Passion!
You that have taken their Master away,
Where have you laid Him, living or dead?
VII
You whose laws have hidden the One Law,
You whose searchings obscure the goal,
You whose systems from chaos begun,
Chance-born, order-less, hark, they are marching,
Hearts and tides and stars to the One Law,
Measured and orderly, rhythmical, whole,
Multitudinous, welded and one.
VIII
Split your threads of the seamless purple,
Round you marches the world-wide host,
Round your skies is the marching sky,
Out in the night there's an army marching,
Clothed with the night's own seamless purple,
Making death for the King their boast,
Marching straight to Eternity.
IX
What do you know of the shot-riddled banners
Royally surging out of the gloom,
You whose denials their souls despise?
Out in the night they are marching, marching!
Treasure your wisdom, and leave them their banners!
Then--when you follow them down to the tomb
Pray for one glimpse of the faith in their eyes.
X
Pray for one gleam of the white sad faces,
Moving steadily, row on row,
Marching away to their hopeless wars,
Doomed to be trodden like dung, but marching,
Terrible, beautiful human faces,
Common as dirt, but softer than snow,
Coarser than clay, but calm as the stars.
XI
What of the end? Will your knowledge escape it?
What of the end of their dumb dark tears?
You who mock at their faith and sing,
Look, for their ragged old banners are marching
Down to the end--will your knowledge escape it?--
Down to the end of a few brief years!
What should they care for the wisdom you bring.
XII
Count as they pass, their hundreds, thousands,
Millions, marching away to a doom
Younger than London, older that Tyre!
Drum-taps, drum-taps, where are they marching,
Regiments, nations, empires, marching?
Down thro' the jaws of a world-wide tomb,
Doomed or ever they sprang from the mire!
XIII
Doomed to be shovelled like dung to the midden,
Trodden and kneaded as clay in the road,
Father and little one, lover and friend,
Out in the night they are marching, marching,
Doomed to be shovelled like dung to the midden,
Bodies that bowed beneath Christ's own load,
Love that--marched to the self-same end.
XIV
What of the end?--O, not of your glory,
Not of your wealth or your fame that will live
Half as long as this pellet of dust!--
Out in the night there's an army marching,
Nameless, noteless, empty of glory,
Ready to suffer and die and forgive,
Marching onward in simple trust,
XV
Wearing their poor little toy love-tokens
Under the march of the terrible skies!
Is it a jest for a God to play?--
Whose is the jest of these millions marching,
Wearing their poor little toy love-tokens,
Waving their voicelessly grand good-byes,
Secretly trying, sometimes, to pray.
XVI
Dare you dream their trust in Eternity
Broken, O you to whom prayers are vain,
You who dream that their God is dead?
Take your answer--these millions marching
Out of Eternity, into Eternity,
These that smiled "We shall meet again,"
Even as the life from their loved one fled.
XVII
This is the answer, not of the sages,
Not of the loves that are ready to part,
Ready to find their oblivion sweet!
Out in the night there's an army marching,
Men that have toiled thro' the endless ages,
Men of the pit and the desk and the mart,
Men that remember, the men in the street,
XVIII
These that into the gloom of Eternity
Stream thro' the dream of this lamp-starred town
London, an army of clouds to-night!
These that of old came marching, marching,
Out of the terrible gloom of Eternity,
Bowing their heads at Rameses' frown,
Streaming away thro' Babylon's light;
XIX
These that swept at the sound of the trumpet
Out thro' the night like gonfaloned clouds,
Exiled hosts when the world was Rome,
Tossing their tattered old eagles, marching
Down to sleep till the great last trumpet,
London, Nineveh, rend your shrouds,
Rally the legions and lead them home,
XX
Lead them home with their glorious faces
Moving steadily, row on row
Marching up from the end of wars,
Out of the Valley of Shadows, marching,
Terrible, beautiful, human faces,
Common as dirt, but softer than snow,
Coarser than clay, but calm as the stars,
XXI
Marching out of the endless ages,
Marching out of the dawn of time,
Endless columns of unknown men,
Endless ranks of the stars o'er-arching
Endless ranks of an army marching
Numberless out of the numberless ages,
Men out of every race and clime,
Marching steadily, now as then.
THE SKY-LARK CAGED
I
Beat, little breast, against the wires.
Strive, little wings and misted eyes
Which one wild gleam of memory fires
Beseeching still the unfettered skies,
Whither at dewy dawn you sprang
Quivering with joy from this dark earth and sang.
II
And still you sing--your narrow cage
Shall set at least your music free!
Its rapturous wings in glorious rage
Mount and are lost in liberty,
While those who caged you creep on earth
Blind prisoners from the hour that gave them birth.
III
Sing! The great City surges round.
Blinded with light, thou canst not know.
Dream! 'Tis the fir-woods' windy sound
Rolling a psalm of praise below.
Sing, o'er the bitter dust and shame,
And touch us with thine own transcendent flame.
IV
Sing, o'er the City dust and slime;
Sing, o'er the squalor and the gold,
The greed that darkens earth with crime,
The spirits that are bought and sold.
O, shower the healing notes like rain,
And lift us to the height of grief again.
V
Sing! The same music swells your breast,
And the wild notes are still as sweet
As when above the fragrant nest
And the wide billowing fields of wheat
You soared and sang the livelong day,
And in the light of heaven dissolved away.
VI
The light of heaven! Is it not here?
One rapture, one ecstatic joy,
One passion, one sublime despair,
One grief which nothing can destroy,
You--though your dying eyes are wet
Remember, 'tis our blunted hearts forget.
VII
Beat, little breast, still beat, still beat,
Strive, misted eyes and tremulous wings;
Swell, little throat, your _Sweet! Sweet! Sweet!_
Thro' which such deathless memory rings:
Better to break your heart and die,
Than, like your gaolers, to forget your sky.
THE LOVERS' FLIGHT
I
Come, the dusk is lit with flowers!
Quietly take this guiding hand:
Little breath to waste is ours
On the road to lovers' land.
Time is in his dungeon-keep!
Ah, not thither, lest he hear,
Starting from his old grey sleep,
Rosy feet upon the stair.
II
Ah, not thither, lest he heed
Ere we reach the rusty door!
Nay, the stairways only lead
Back to his dark world once more:
There's a merrier way we know
Leading to a lovelier night--
See, your casement all a-glow
Diamonding the wonder-light.
III
Fling the flowery lattice wide,
Let the silken ladder down,
Swiftly to the garden glide
Glimmering in your long white gown,
Rosy from your pillow, sweet,
Come, unsandalled and divine;
Let the blossoms stain your feet
And the stars behold them shine.
IV
Swift, our pawing palfreys wait,
And the page--Dan Cupid--frets,
Holding at the garden gate
Reins that chime like castanets,
Bits a-foam with fairy flakes
Flung from seas whence Venus rose:
Come, for Father Time awakes
And the star of morning glows.
V
Swift--one satin foot shall sway
Half a heart-beat in my hand,
Swing to stirrup and swift away
Down the road to lovers' land:
Ride--the moon is dusky gold,
Ride--our hearts are young and warm,
Ride--the hour is growing old,
And the next may break the charm.
VI
Swift, ere we that thought the song
Full--for others--of the truth,
We that smiled, contented, strong,
Dowered with endless wealth of youth,
Find that like a summer cloud
Youth indeed has crept away,
Find the robe a clinging shroud
And the hair be-sprent with grey.
VII
Ride--we'll leave it all behind,
All the turmoil and the tears,
All the mad vindictive blind
Yelping of the heartless years!
Ride--the ringing world's in chase,
Yet we've slipped old Father Time,
By the love-light in your face
And the jingle of this rhyme.
VIII
Ride--for still the hunt is loud!
Ride--our steeds can hold their own!
Yours, a satin sea-wave, proud,
Queen, to be your living throne,
Glittering with the foam and fire
Churned from seas whence Venus rose,
Tow'rds the gates of our desire
Gloriously burning flows.
IX
He, with streaming flanks a-smoke,
Needs no spur of blood-stained steel:
Only that soft thudding stroke
Once, o' the little satin heel,
Drives his mighty heart, your slave,
Bridled with these bells of rhyme,
Onward, like a crested wave
Thundering out of hail of Time.
X
On, till from a rosy spark
Fairy-small as gleams your hand,
Broadening as we cleave the dark,
Dawn the gates of lovers' land,
Nearing, sweet, till breast and brow
Lifted through the purple night
Catch the deepening glory now
And your eyes the wonder-light.
XI
E'en as tow'rd your face I lean
Swooping nigh the gates of bliss,
I the king and you the queen
Crown each other with a kiss.
Riding, soaring like a song
Burn we tow'rds the heaven above,
You the sweet and I the strong
And in both the fire of love.
XII
Ride--though now the distant chase
Knows that we have slipped old Time,
Lift the love-light of your face,
Shake the bridle of this rhyme,
See, the flowers of night and day
Streaming past on either hand,
Ride into the eternal May,
Ride into the lovers' land.
THE ROCK POOL
I
Bright as a fallen fragment of the sky,
Mid shell-encrusted rocks the sea-pool shone,
Glassing the sunset-clouds in its clear heart,
A small enchanted world enwalled apart
In diamond mystery,
Content with its own dreams, its own strict zone
Of urchin woods, its fairy bights and bars,
Its daisy-disked anemones and rose-feathered stars.
II
Forsaken for awhile by that deep roar
Which works in storm and calm the eternal will,
Drags down the cliffs, bids the great hills go by
And shepherds their multitudinous pageantry,--
Here, on this ebb-tide shore
A jewelled bath of beauty, sparkling still,
The little sea-pool smiled away the sea,
And slept on its own plane of bright tranquillity.
III
A self-sufficing soul, a pool in trance,
Un-stirred by all the spirit-winds that blow
From o'er the gulfs of change, content, ere yet
On its own crags, which rough peaked limpets fret
The last rich colours glance,
Content to mirror the sea-bird's wings of snow,
Or feel in some small creek, ere sunset fails,
A tiny Nautilus hoist its lovely purple sails;
IV
And, furrowing into pearl that rosy bar,
Sail its own soul from fairy fringe to fringe,
Lured by the twinkling prey 'twas born to reach
In its own pool, by many an elfin beach
Of jewels, adventuring far
Through the last mirrored cloud and sunset-tinge
And past the rainbow-dripping cave where lies
The dark green pirate-crab at watch with beaded eyes,
V
Or fringed Medusa floats like light in light,
Medusa, with the loveliest of all fays
Pent in its irised bubble of jellied sheen,
Trailing long ferns of moonlight, shot with green
And crimson rays and white,
Waving ethereal tendrils, ghostly sprays,
Daring the deep, dissolving in the sun,
The vanishing point of life, the light whence life begun.
VI
Poised between me, light, time, eternity,
So tinged with all, that in its delicate brain
Kindling it as a lamp with her bright wings
Day-long, night-long, young Ariel sits and sings
Echoing the lucid sea,
Listening it echo her own unearthly strain,
Watching through lucid walls the world's rich tide,
One light, one substance with her own, rise and subside.
VII
And over soft brown woods, limpid, serene,
Puffing its fans the Nautilus went its way,
And from a hundred salt and weedy shelves
Peered little horned faces of sea-elves:
The prawn darted, half-seen,
Thro' watery sunlight, like a pale green ray,
And all around, from soft green waving bowers,
Creatures like fruit out-crept from fluted shells like flowers.
VIII
And, over all, that glowing mirror spread
The splendour of its heaven-reflecting gleams,
A level wealth of tints, calm as the sky
That broods above our own mortality:
The temporal seas had fled,
And ah, what hopes, what fears, what mystic dreams
Could ruffle it now from any deeper deep?
Content in its own bounds it slept a changeless sleep.
IX
Suddenly, from that heaven beyond belief,
Suddenly, from that world beyond its ken,
Dashing great billows o'er its rosy bars,
Shivering its dreams into a thousand stars,
Flooding each sun-dried reef
With waves of colour, (as once, for mortal men
Bethesda's angel) with blue eyes, wide and wild,
Naked into the pool there stepped a little child.
X
Her red-gold hair against the far green sea
Blew thickly out: her slender golden form
Shone dark against the richly waning West
As with one hand she splashed her glistening breast,
Then waded up to her knee
And frothed the whole pool into a fairy storm!...
So, stooping through our skies, of old, there came
Angels that once could set this world's dark pool a-flame,
XI
From which the seas of faith have ebbed away,
Leaving the lonely shore too bright, too bare,
While mirrored softly in the smooth wet sand
A deeper sunset sees its blooms expand
But all too phantom-fair,
Between the dark brown rocks and sparkling spray
Where the low ripples pleaded, shrank and sighed,
And tossed a moment's rainbow heavenward ere they died.
XII
Stoop, starry souls, incline to this dark coast,
Where all too long, too faithlessly, we dream.
Stoop to the world's dark pool, its crags and scars,
Its yellow sands, its rosy harbour-bars,
And soft green wastes that gleam
But with some glorious drifting god-like ghost
Of cloud, some vaguely passionate crimson stain:
Rend the blue waves of heaven, shatter our sleep again!
THE ISLAND HAWK
(A SONG FOR THE FIRST LAUNCHING OF HIS MAJESTY'S AERIAL NAVY)
I
_Chorus_--
_Ships have swept with my conquering name
Over the waves of war,
Swept thro' the Spaniards' thunder and flame
To the splendour of Trafalgar:
On the blistered decks of their great renown,
In the wind of my storm-beat wings,
Hawkins and Hawke went sailing down
To the harbour of deep-sea kings!
By the storm-beat wings of the hawk, the hawk,
Bent beak and pitiless breast,
They clove their way thro' the red sea-fray:
Who wakens me now to the quest?_
II
Hushed are the whimpering winds on the hill,
Dumb is the shrinking plain,
And the songs that enchanted the woods are still
As I shoot to the skies again!
Does the blood grow black on my fierce bent beak,
Does the down still cling to my claw?
Who brightened these eyes for the prey they seek?
Life, I follow thy law!
_For I am the hawk, the hawk, the hawk!
Who knoweth my pitiless breast?
Who watcheth me sway in the wild wind's way?
Flee--flee--for I quest, I quest._
III
As I glide and glide with my peering head,
Or swerve at a puff of smoke,
Who watcheth my wings on the wind outspread,
Here--gone--with an instant stroke?
Who toucheth the glory of life I feel
As I buffet this great glad gale,
Spire and spire to the cloud-world, wheel,
Loosen my wings and sail?
_For I am the hawk, the island hawk,
Who knoweth my pitiless breast?
Who watcheth me sway in the sun's bright way?
Flee--flee--for I quest, I quest._
IV
Had they given me "Cloud-cuckoo-city" to guard
Between mankind and the sky,
Tho' the dew might shine on an April sward,
Iris had ne'er passed by!
Swift as her beautiful wings might be
From the rosy Olympian hill,
Had Epops entrusted the gates to me
Earth were his kingdom still.
_For I am the hawk, the archer, the hawk!
Who knoweth my pitiless breast?
Who watcheth me sway in the wild wind's way?
Flee--flee--for I quest, I quest._
V
My mate in the nest on the high bright tree
Blazing with dawn and dew,
She knoweth the gleam of the world and the glee
As I drop like a bolt from the blue;
She knoweth the fire of the level flight
As I skim, close, close to the ground,
With the long grass lashing my breast and the bright
Dew-drops flashing around.
_She watcheth the hawk, the hawk, the hawk,
(O, the red-blotched eggs in the nest!)
Watcheth him sway in the sun's bright way;
Flee--flee--for I quest, I quest._
VI
She builded her nest on the high bright wold,
She was taught in a world afar,
The lore that is only an April old
Yet old as the evening star;
Life of a far off ancient day
In an hour unhooded her eyes;
In the time of the budding of one green spray
She was wise as the stars are wise.
_Brown flower of the tree of the hawk, the hawk,
On the old elm's burgeoning breast,
She watcheth me sway in the wild wind's way;
Flee--flee--for I quest, I quest._
VII
Spirit and sap of the sweet swift Spring,
Fire of our island soul,
Burn in her breast and pulse in her wing
While the endless ages roll;
Avatar--she--of the perilous pride
That plundered the golden West,
Her glance is a sword, but it sweeps too wide
For a rumour to trouble her rest.
_She goeth her glorious way, the hawk,
She nurseth her brood alone;
She will not swoop for an owlet's whoop,
She hath calls and cries of her own._
VIII
There was never a dale in our isle so deep
That her wide wings were not free
To soar to the sovran heights and keep
Sight of the rolling sea:
Is it there, is it here in the rolling skies,
The realm of her future fame?
Look once, look once in her glittering eyes,
Ye shall find her the same, the same.
_Up to the sides with the hawk, the hawk,
As it was in the days of old!
Ye shall sail once more, ye shall soar, ye shall soar
To the new-found realms of gold._
IX
She hath ridden on white Arabian steeds
Thro' the ringing English dells,
For the joy of a great queen, hunting in state,
To the music of golden bells;
A queen's fair fingers have drawn the hood
And tossed her aloft in the blue,
A white hand eager for needless blood;
I hunt for the needs of two.
_Yet I am the hawk, the hawk, the hawk!
Who knoweth my pitiless breast?
Who watcheth me sway in the sun's bright way?
Flee--flee--for I quest, I quest._
X
Who fashioned her wide and splendid eyes
That have stared in the eyes of kings?
With a silken twist she was looped to their wrist:
She has clawed at their jewelled rings!
Who flung her first thro' the crimson dawn
To pluck him a prey from the skies,
When the love-light shone upon lake and lawn
In the valleys of Paradise?
_Who fashioned the hawk, the hawk, the hawk,
Bent beak and pitiless breast?
Who watcheth him sway in the wild wind's way?
Flee--flee--for I quest, I quest._
XI
Is there ever a song in all the world
Shall say how the quest began
With the beak and the wings that have made us kings
And cruel--almost--as man?
The wild wind whimpers across the heath
Where the sad little tufts of blue
And the red-stained grey little feathers of death
Flutter! _Who fashioned us? Who?
Who fashioned the scimitar wings of the hawk,
Bent beak and arrowy breast?
Who watcheth him sway in the sun's bright way?
Flee--flee--for I quest, I quest._
XII
Linnet and woodpecker, red-cap and jay,
Shriek that a doom shall fall
One day, one day, on my pitiless way
From the sky that is over us all;
But the great blue hawk of the heavens above
Fashioned the world for his prey,--
King and queen and hawk and dove,
We shall meet in his clutch that day;
_Shall I not welcome him, I, the hawk?
Yea, cry, as they shrink from his claw,
Cry, as I die, to the unknown sky,
Life, I follow thy law!_
XIII
_Chorus--_
_Ships have swept with my conquering name ..._
Over the world and beyond,
Hark! Bellerophon, Marlborough, Thunderer,
Condor, respond!--
_On the blistered decks of their dread renown,
In the rush of my storm-beat wings,
Hawkins and Hawke went sailing down
To the glory of deep-sea kings!
By the storm-beat wings of the hawk, the hawk,
Bent beak and pitiless breast,
They clove their way thro' the red sea-fray!
Who wakens me now to the quest._
THE ADMIRAL'S GHOST
I tell you a tale to-night
Which a seaman told to me,
With eyes that gleamed in the lanthorn light
And a voice as low as the sea.
You could almost hear the stars
Twinkling up in the sky,
And the old wind woke and moaned in the spars,
And the same old waves went by,
Singing the same old song
As ages and ages ago,
While he froze my blood in that deep-sea night
With the things that he seemed to know.
A bare foot pattered on deck;
Ropes creaked; then--all grew still,
And he pointed his finger straight in my face
And growled, as a sea-dog will.
"Do' ee know who Nelson was?
That pore little shrivelled form
With the patch on his eye and the pinned-up sleeve
And a soul like a North Sea storm?
"Ask of the Devonshire men!
They know, and they'll tell you true;
He wasn't the pore little chawed-up chap
That Hardy thought he knew.
"He wasn't the man you think!
His patch was a dern disguise!
For he knew that they'd find him out, d'you see,
If they looked him in both his eyes.
"He was twice as big as he seemed;
But his clothes were cunningly made.
He'd both of his hairy arms all right!
The sleeve was a trick of the trade.
"You've heard of sperrits, no doubt;
Well, there's more in the matter than that!
But he wasn't the patch and he wasn't the sleeve,
And he wasn't the laced cocked-hat.
"_Nelson was just--a Ghost!_
You may laugh! But the Devonshire men
They knew that he'd come when England called,
And they know that he'll come again.
"I'll tell you the way it was
(For none of the landsmen know),
And to tell it you right, you must go a-starn
Two hundred years or so.
* * * *
"The waves were lapping and slapping
The same as they are to-day;
And Drake lay dying aboard his ship
In Nombre Dios Bay.
"The scent of the foreign flowers
Came floating all around;
'But I'd give my soul for the smell o' the pitch,'
Says he, 'in Plymouth Sound.'
"'What shall I do,' he says,
'When the guns begin to roar,
An' England wants me, and me not there
To shatter 'er foes once more?'
"(You've heard what he said, maybe,
But I'll mark you the p'ints again;
For I want you to box your compass right
And get my story plain.)
"'You must take my drum,' he says,
'To the old sea-wall at home;
And if ever you strike that drum,' he says,
'Why, strike me blind, I'll come!
"'If England needs me, dead
Or living, I'll rise that day!
I'll rise from the darkness under the sea
Ten thousand miles away.'
"That's what he said; and he died,
An' his pirates, listenin' roun',
With their crimson doublets and jewelled swords
That flashed as the sun went down,
"They sewed him up in his shroud
With a round-shot top and toe,
To sink him under the salt sharp sea
Where all good seamen go.
"They lowered him down in the deep,
And there in the sunset light
They boomed a broadside over his grave,
As meanin' to say 'Good-night.'
"They sailed away in the dark
To the dear little isle they knew;
And they hung his drum by the old sea-wall
The same as he told them to.
* * * *
"Two hundred years went by,
And the guns began to roar,
And England was fighting hard for her life,
As ever she fought of yore.
"'It's only my dead that count,'
She said, as she says to-day;
'It isn't the ships and it isn't the guns
'Ull sweep Trafalgar's Bay.'
"D'you guess who Nelson was?
You may laugh, but it's true as true!
There was more in that pore little chawed-up chap
Than ever his best friend knew.
"The foe was creepin' close,
In the dark, to our white-cliffed isle;
They were ready to leap at England's throat,
When--O, you may smile, you may smile;
"But--ask of the Devonshire men;
For they heard in the dead of night
The roll of a drum, and they saw _him_ pass
On a ship all shining white.
"He stretched out his dead cold face
And he sailed in the grand old way!
The fishes had taken an eye and his arm,
But he swept Trafalgar's Bay.
"Nelson--was Francis Drake!
O, what matters the uniform,
Or the patch on your eye or your pinned-up sleeve,
If your soul's like a North Sea storm?"
EDINBURGH
I
City of mist and rain and blown grey spaces,
Dashed with wild wet colour and gleam of tears,
Dreaming in Holyrood halls of the passionate faces
Lifted to one Queen's face that has conquered the years,
Are not the halls of thy memory haunted places?
Cometh there not as a moon (where the blood-rust sears
Floors a-flutter of old with silks and laces),
Gliding, a ghostly Queen, thro' a mist of tears?
II
Proudly here, with a loftier pinnacled splendour,
Throned in his northern Athens, what spells remain
Still on the marble lips of the Wizard, and render
Silent the gazer on glory without a stain!
Here and here, do we whisper, with hearts more tender,
Tusitala wandered thro' mist and rain;
Rainbow-eyed and frail and gallant and slender,
Dreaming of pirate-isles in a jewelled main.
III
Up the Canongate climbeth, cleft asunder
Raggedly here, with a glimpse of the distant sea
Flashed through a crumbling alley, a glimpse of wonder,
Nay, for the City is throned on Eternity!
Hark! from the soaring castle a cannon's thunder
Closeth an hour for the world and an aeon for me,
Gazing at last from the martial heights whereunder
Deathless memories roll to an ageless sea.
IN A RAILWAY CARRIAGE
Three long isles of sunset-cloud,
Poised in an ocean of gold,
Floated away in the west
As the long train southward rolled;
And through the gleam and shade of the panes,
While meadow and wood went by,
Across the streaming earth
We watched the steadfast sky.
Dark before the westward window,
Heavy and bloated, rolled
The face of a drunken woman
Nodding against the gold;
Dark before the infinite glory,
With bleared and leering eyes,
It stupidly lurched and nodded
Against the tender skies.
_What had ye done to her, masters of men,
That her head be bowed down thus--
Thus for your golden vespers,
And deepening angelus?_
Dark, besotted, malignant, vacant,
Slobbering, wrinkled, old,
Weary and wickedly smiling,
She nodded against the gold.
Pitiful, loathsome, maudlin, lonely,
Her moist, inhuman eyes
Blinked at the flies on the window,
And could not see the skies.
As a beast that turns and returns to a mirror
And will not see its face,
Her eyes rejected the sunset,
Her soul lay dead in its place,
Dead in the furrows and folds of her flesh
As a corpse lies lapped in the shroud;
Silently floated beside her
The isles of sunset-cloud.
_What had ye done to her, years upon years,
That her head should be bowed down thus--
Thus for your golden vespers,
And deepening angelus?_
Her nails were blackened and split with labour,
Her back was heavily bowed;
Silently floated beside her
The isles of sunset-cloud.
Over their tapering streaks of lilac,
In breathless depths afar,
Bright as the tear of an angel
Glittered a lonely star.
While the hills and the streams of the world went past us,
And the long train roared and rolled
Southward, and dusk was falling,
She nodded against the gold.
AN EAST-END COFFEE-STALL
Down the dark alley a ring of orange light
Glows. God, what leprous tatters of distress,
Droppings of misery, rags of Thy loneliness
Quiver and heave like vermin, out of the night!
Like crippled rats, creeping out of the gloom,
O Life, for one of thy terrible moments there,
Lit by the little flickering yellow flare,
Faces that mock at life and death and doom,
Faces that long, long since have known the worst,
Faces of women that have seen the child
Waste in their arms, and strangely, terribly, smiled
When the dark nipple of death has eased its thirst;
Faces of men that once, though long ago,
Saw the faint light of hope, though far away,--
Hope that, at end of some tremendous day,
They yet might reach some life where tears could flow;
Faces of our humanity, ravaged, white,
Wrenched with old love, old hate, older despair,
Steal out of vile filth-dropping dens to stare
On that wild monstrance of a naphtha light.
They crowd before the stall's bright altar rail,
Grotesque, and sacred, for that light's brief span,
And all the shuddering darkness cries, "All hail,
Daughters and Sons of Man!"
See, see, once more, though all their souls be dead,
They hold it up, triumphantly hold it up,
They feel, they warm their hands upon the Cup;
Their crapulous hands, their claw-like hands break Bread!
See, with lean faces rapturously a-glow
For a brief while they dream and munch and drink;
Then, one by one, once more, silently slink
Back, back into the gulfing mist. They go,
One by one, out of the ring of light!
They creep, like crippled rats, into the gloom,
Into the fogs of life and death and doom,
Into the night, the immeasurable night.
RED OF THE DAWN
I
The Dawn peered in with blood-shot eyes
Pressed close against the cracked old pane.
The garret slept: the slow sad rain
Had ceased: grey fogs obscured the skies;
But Dawn peered in with haggard eyes.
II
All as last night? The three-legged chair,
The bare walls and the tattered bed,
All!--but for those wild flakes of red
(And Dawn, perhaps, had splashed them there!)
Round the bare walls, the bed, the chair.
III
'Twas here, last night, when winds were loud,
A ragged singing-girl, she came
Out of the tavern's glare and shame,
With some few pence--for she was proud--
Came home to sleep, when winds were loud.
IV
And she sleeps well; for she was tired!
That huddled shape beneath the sheet
With knees up-drawn, no wind or sleet
Can wake her now! Sleep she desired;
And she sleeps well, for she was tired.
V
And there was one that followed her
With some unhappy curse called "love":
Last night, though winds beat loud above,
She shrank! Hark, on the creaking stair,
What stealthy footstep followed her?
VI
But now the Curse, it seemed, had gone!
The small tin-box, wherein she hid
Old childish treasures, had burst its lid.
Dawn kissed her doll's cracked face. It shone
Red-smeared, but laughing--_the Curse is gone_.
VII
So she sleeps well: she does not move;
And on the wall, the chair, the bed,
Is it the Dawn that splashes red,
High as the text where _God is Love_
Hangs o'er her head? She does not move.
VIII
The clock dictates its old refrain:
All else is quiet; or, far away,
Shaking the world with new-born day,
There thunders past some mighty train:
The clock dictates its old refrain.
IX
The Dawn peers in with blood-shot eyes:
The crust, the broken cup are there!
She does not rise yet to prepare
Her scanty meal. God does not rise
And pluck the blood-stained sheet from her;
But Dawn peers in with haggard eyes.
THE DREAM-CHILD'S INVITATION
I
_Once upon a time!_--Ah, now the light is burning dimly.
Peterkin is here again: he wants another tale!
Don't you hear him whispering--_The wind is in the chimley,
The ottoman's a treasure-ship, we'll all set sail?_
II
All set sail? No, the wind is very loud to-night:
The darkness on the waters is much deeper than of yore.
Yet I wonder--hark, he whispers--if the little streets are still as bright
In old Japan, in old Japan, that happy haunted shore.
III
I wonder--hush, he whispers--if perhaps the world will wake again
When Christmas brings the stories back from where the skies are blue,
Where clouds are scattering diamonds down on every cottage window-pane,
And every boy's a fairy prince, and every tale is true.
IV
There the sword Excalibur is thrust into the dragon's throat,
Evil there is evil, black is black, and white is white:
There the child triumphant hurls the villain spluttering into the moat;
There the captured princess only waits the peerless knight.
V
Fairyland is gleaming there beyond the Sherwood Forest trees,
There the City of the Clouds has anchored on the plain
All her misty vistas and slumber-rosy palaces
(_Shall we not, ah, shall we not, wander there again?_)
VI
"Happy ever after" there, the lights of home a welcome fling
Softly thro' the darkness as the star that shone of old,
Softly over Bethlehem and o'er the little cradled King
Whom the sages worshipped with their frankincense and gold.
VII
_Once upon a time_--perhaps a hundred thousand years ago--
Whisper to me, Peterkin, I have forgotten when!
Once upon a time there was a way, a way we used to know
For stealing off at twilight from the weary ways of men.
VIII
Whisper it, O whisper it--the way, the way is all I need!
All the heart and will are here and all the deep desire!
_Once upon a time_--ah, now the light is drawing near indeed,
I see the fairy faces flush to roses round the fire.
IX
_Once upon a time_--the little lips are on my cheek again,
Little fairy fingers clasped and clinging draw me nigh,
Dreams, no more than dreams, but they unloose the weary prisoner's chain
And lead him from his dungeon! "What's a thousand years?" they cry.
X
A thousand years, a thousand years, a little drifting dream ago,
All of us were hunting with a band of merry men,
The skies were blue, the boughs were green, the clouds were crisping
isles of snow ...
... So Robin blew his bugle, and the Now became the Then.
THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED
(AN EPISODE IN THE LIFE OF A CORN-FLOWER MILLIONAIRE)
I
All the way to Fairyland across the thyme and heather,
Round a little bank of fern that rustled on the sky,
Me and stick and bundle, sir, we jogged along together,--
(Changeable the weather? Well--it ain't all pie!)
Just about the sunset--Won't you listen to my story?--
Look at me! I'm only rags and tatters to your eye!
Sir, that blooming sunset crowned this battered hat with glory!
Me that was a crawling worm became a butterfly--
(Ain't it hot and dry?
Thank you, sir, thank you, sir!) a blooming butterfly.
II
Well, it happened this way! I was lying loose and lazy,
Just as, of a Sunday, you yourself might think no shame,
Puffing little clouds of smoke, and picking at a daisy,
Dreaming of your dinner, p'raps, or wishful for the same:
Suddenly, around that ferny bank there slowly waddled--
Slowly as the finger of a clock her shadow came--
Slowly as a tortoise down that winding path she toddled,
Leaning on a crooked staff, a poor old crooked dame,
Limping, but not lame,
_Tick, tack, tick, tack_, a poor old crooked dame.
III
Slowly did I say, sir? Well, you've heard that funny fable
Consekint the tortoise and the race it give an 'are?
This was curiouser than that! At first I wasn't able
Quite to size the memory up that bristled thro' my hair:
Suddenly, I'd got it, with a nasty shivery feeling,
While she walked and walked and yet was not a bit more near,--
Sir, it was the tread-mill earth beneath her feet a-wheeling
Faster than her feet could trot to heaven or anywhere,
Earth's revolvin' stair
Wheeling, while my wayside clump was kind of anchored there.
IV
_Tick, tack, tick, tack_, and just a little nearer,
Inch and 'arf an inch she went, but never gained a yard:
Quiet as a fox I lay; I didn't wish to scare 'er,
Watching thro' the ferns, and thinking "What a rum old card!"
Both her wrinkled tortoise eyes with yellow resin oozing,
Both her poor old bony hands were red and seamed and scarred!
Lord, I felt as if myself was in a public boozing,
While my own old woman went about and scrubbed and charred!
Lord, it seemed so hard!
_Tick, tack, tick, tack_, she never gained a yard.
V
Yus, and there in front of her--I hadn't seen it rightly--
Lurked that little finger-post to point another road,
Just a tiny path of poppies twisting infi-nite-ly
Through the whispering seas of wheat, a scarlet thread that showed
White with ox-eye daisies here and there and chalky cobbles,
Blue with waving corn-flowers: far and far away it glowed,
Winding into heaven, I thinks; but, Lord, the way she hobbles,
Lord, she'll never reach it, for she bears too great a load;
Yus, and then I knowed,
If she did, she couldn't, for the board was marked _No Road_.
VI
_Tick, tack, tick, tack_, I couldn't wait no longer!
Up I gets and bows polite and pleasant as a toff--
"Arternoon," I says, "I'm glad your boots are going stronger;
Only thing I'm dreading is your feet 'ull both come off."
_Tick, tack, tick, tack_, she didn't stop to answer,
"Arternoon," she says, and sort o' chokes a little cough,
"I must get to Piddinghoe to-morrow if I can, sir!"
"Demme, my good woman! Haw! Don't think I mean to loff,"
Says I, like a toff,
"Where d'you mean to sleep to-night? God made this grass for go'ff."
VII
_Tick, tack, tick, tack_, and smilingly she eyed me
(Dreadful the low cunning of these creechars, don't you think?)
"That's all right! The weather's bright. Them bushes there 'ull hide me.
Don't the gorse smell nice?" I felt my derned old eyelids blink!
"Supper? I've a crust of bread, a big one, and a bottle,"
(Just as I expected! Ah, these creechars always drink!)
"Sugar and water and half a pinch of tea to rinse my throttle,
Then I'll curl up cosy!"--"If you're cotched it means the clink!"
--"Yus, but don't you think
If a star should see me, God 'ull tell that star to wink?"
VIII
"Now, look here," I says, "I don't know what your blooming age is!"
"Three-score years and five," she says, "that's five more years to go
_Tick, tack, tick tack_, before I gets my wages!"
"Wages all be damned," I says, "there's one thing that I know--
Gals that stay out late o' nights are sure to meet wi' sorrow.
Speaking as a toff," I says, "it isn't _comme il faut_!
Tell me why you want to get to Piddinghoe to-morrow."--
"That was where my son worked, twenty years ago!"--
"Twenty years ago?
Never wrote? May still be there? Remember you?... Just so!"
IX
Yus, it was a drama; but she weren't my long-lost parent!
_Tick, tack, tick, tack_, she trotted all the while,
Never getting forrarder, and not the least aware on't,
Though I stood beside her with a sort of silly smile
Stock-still! _Tick, tack_! This blooming world's a bubble:
There I stood and stared at it, mile on flowery mile,
Chasing o' the sunset,--"Gals are sure to meet wi' trouble
Staying out o' nights," I says, once more, and tries to smile,
"Come, that ain't your style,
Here's a shilling, mother, for to-day I've made my pile!"
X
Yus, a dozen coppers, all my capital, it fled, sir,
Representin' twelve bokays that cost me nothink each,
Twelve bokays o' corn-flowers blue that grew beside my bed, sir,
That same day, at sunrise, when the sky was like a peach:
Easy as a poet's dreams they blossomed round my head, sir,
All I had to do was just to lift my hand and reach:
So, upon the roaring waves I cast my blooming bread, sir,
Bread I'd earned with nose-gays on the bare-foot Brighton beach,
Nose-gays _and_ a speech,
All about the bright blue eyes they matched on Brighton beach.
XI
Still, you've only got to hear the bankers on the budget,
Then you'll know the giving game is hardly "high finance";
Which no more it wasn't for that poor old dame to trudge it,
_Tick, tack, tick, tack_, on such a devil's dance:
Crumbs, it took me quite aback to see her stop so humble,
Casting up into my face a sort of shiny glance,
_Bless you, bless you_, that was what I thought I heard her mumble;
Lord, a prayer for poor old Bill, a rummy sort of chance!
Crumbs, that shiny glance
Kinder made me king of all the sky from here to France.
XII
_Tick, tack, tick, tack_, but now she toddled faster:
Soon she'd reach the little twisted by-way through the wheat.
"Look 'ee here," I says, "young woman, don't you court disaster!
Peepin' through yon poppies there's a cottage trim and neat
White as chalk and sweet as turf: wot price a bed for sorrow,
Sprigs of lavender between the pillow and the sheet?"
"No," she says, "I've got to get to Piddinghoe to-morrow!
P'raps they'd tell the work'us! And I've lashings here to eat:
Don't the gorse smell sweet?"...
Well, I turned and left her plodding on beside the wheat.
XIII
Every cent I'd given her like a hero in a story;
Yet, alone with leagues of wheat I seemed to grow aware
Solomon himself, arrayed in all his golden glory,
Couldn't vie with Me, the corn-flower king, the millionaire!
How to cash those bright blue cheques that night? My trouser pockets
Jingled sudden! Six more pennies, crept from James knew where!
Crumbs! I hurried back with eyes just bulging from their sockets,
Pushed 'em in the old dame's fist and listened for the prayer,
Shamming not to care,
Bill--the blarsted chicken-thief, the corn-flower millionaire.
XIV
_Tick, tack, tick, tack_, and faster yet she clattered!
Ay, she'd almost gained a yard! I left her once again.
Feeling very warm inside and sort of 'ighly flattered,
On I plodded, all alone, with hay-stacks in my brain.
Suddenly, with _chink--chink--chink_, the old sweet jingle
Startled me! 'TWAS THRUPPENCE MORE! Three coppers round and plain!
Lord, temptation struck me and I felt my gullet tingle.
Then--I hurried back, beside them seas of golden grain:
No, I can't explain;
There I thrust 'em in her fist, and left her once again.
XV
Tinkle-chink! THREE HA'PENCE! If the vulgar fractions followed,
Big fleas have little fleas! It flashed upon me there,--
Like the snakes of Pharaoh which the snakes of Moses swallowed
All the world was playing at the tortoise and the hare:
Half the smallest atom is--my soul was getting tipsy--
Heaven is one big circle and the centre's everywhere,
Yus, and that old woman was an angel and a gipsy,
Yus, and Bill, the chicken-thief, the corn-flower millionaire,
Shamming not to care,
What was he? A seraph on the misty rainbow-stair!
XVI
Don't you make no doubt of it! The deeper that you look, sir,
All your ancient poets tell you just the same as me,--
What about old Ovid and his most indecent book, sir,
Morphosizing females into flower and star and tree?
What about old Proteus and his 'ighly curious 'abits,
Mixing of his old grey beard into the old grey sea?
What about old Darwin and the hat that brought forth rabbits,
Mud and slime that growed into the pomp of Ninevey?
What if there should be
One great Power beneath it all, one God in you and me?
XVII
Anyway, it seemed to me I'd struck the world's pump-handle!
"Back with that three ha'pence, Bill," I mutters, "or you're lost."
Back I hurries thro' the dusk where, shining like a candle,
Pale before the sunset stood that fairy finger-post.
_Sir, she wasn't there!_ I'd struck the place where all roads crost,
All the roads in all the world.
She couldn't yet have trotted
Even to the ... Hist! a stealthy step behind? A ghost?
_Swish_! A flying noose had caught me round the neck! Garotted!
Back I staggered, clutching at the moonbeams, yus, almost
Throttled! Sir, I boast
Bill is tough, but ... when it comes to throttling by a ghost!
* * * *
XVIII
Winged like a butterfly, tall and slender
Out It steps with the rope on its arm.
"Crumbs," I says, "all right! I surrender!
When have I crossed you or done you harm?
_Ef_ you're a sperrit," I says, "O, crikey,
_Ef_ you're a sperrit, get hence, vamoose!"
Sweet as music, she spoke--"I'm Psyche!"--
Choking me still with her silken noose.
XIX
Straight at the word from the ferns and blossoms
Fretting the moon-rise over the downs,
Little blue wings and little white bosoms,
Little white faces with golden crowns
Peeped, and the colours came twinkling round me,
Laughed, and the turf grew purple with thyme,
Danced, and the sweet crushed scents nigh drowned me,
Sang, and the hare-bells rang in chime.
XX
All around me, gliding and gleaming,
Fair as a fallen sunset-sky,
Butterfly wings came drifting, dreaming,
Clouds of the little folk clustered nigh,
Little white hands like pearls uplifted
Cords of silk in shimmering skeins,
Cast them about me and dreamily drifted
Winding me round with their soft warm chains.
XXI
Round and round me they dizzily floated,
Binding me faster with every turn:
Crumbs, my pals would have grinned and gloated
Watching me over that fringe of fern,
Bill, with his battered old hat outstanding
Black as a foam-swept rock to the moon,
Bill, like a rainbow of silks expanding
Into a beautiful big cocoon,--
XXII
Big as a cloud, though his hat still crowned him,
Yus, and his old boots bulged below:
Seas of colour went shimmering round him,
Dancing, glimmering, glancing a-glow!
Bill knew well what them elves were at, sir,--
Ain't you an en-to-mol-o-gist?
Well, despite of his old black hat, sir,
Bill was _becoming--a chrysalist_.
* * * *
XXIII
Muffled, smothered in a sea of emerald and opal,
Down a dazzling gulf of dreams I sank and sank away,
Wound about with twenty thousand yards of silken rope, all
Shimmering into crimson, glimmering into grey,
Drowsing, waking, living, dying, just as you regards it,
Buried in a sunset-cloud, or cloud of breaking day,
'Cording as from East or West yourself might look towards it,
Losing, gaining, lost in darkness, ragged, grimy, gay,
'And-cuffed, not to say
Gagged, but both my shoulders budding, sprouting white as May.
XXIV
Sprouting like the milky buds o' hawthorn in the night-time,
Pouting like the snowy buds o' roses in July,
Spreading in my chrysalist and waiting for the right time,
When--I thought--they'd bust to wings and Bill would rise and fly,
_Tick, tack, tick, tack_, as if it came in answer,
Sweeping o'er my head again the tide o' dreams went by,--
_I must get to Piddinghoe to-morrow if I can, sir,_
_Tick, tack_, a crackle in my chrysalist, a cry!
Then the warm blue sky
Bust the shell, and out crept Bill--a blooming butterfly!
* * * *
XXV
Blue as a corn-flower, blazed the zenith: the deepening East like a
scarlet poppy
Burned while, dazzled with golden bloom, white clouds like daisies,
green seas like wheat,
Gripping the sign-post, first, I climbs, to sun my wings, which were
wrinkled and floppy,
Spreading 'em white o'er the words _No Road_, and hanging fast by
my six black feet.
XXVI
Still on my head was the battered old beaver, but through it my clubbed
antennae slanted,
("Feelers" yourself would probably call 'em) my battered old boots were
hardly seen
Under the golden fluff of the tail! It was Bill, sir, Bill, though
highly enchanted,
Spreading his beautiful snow-white pinions, tipped with orange, and
veined with green.
XXVII
Yus, old Bill was an Orange-tip, a spirit in glory, a blooming Psyche!
New, it was new from East to West this rummy old world that I dreamed
I knew,
How can I tell you the things that I saw with my--what shall _I_ call 'em?
--"feelers?"--O, crikey,
"FEELERS?" You know how the man born blind described such colours as
scarlet or blue.
XXVIII
"Scarlet," he says, "is the sound of a trumpet, blue is a flute,"
for he hasn't a notion!
No, nor nobody living on earth can tell it him plain, if he
hasn't the sight!
That's how it stands with ragged old Bill, a-drift and a-dream on
a measureless ocean,
Gifted wi' fifteen new-born senses, and seeing you blind to their
new strange light.
XXIX
How can I tell you? Sir, you must wait, till you die like Bill, ere
you understand it!
Only--I saw--the same as a bee that strikes to his hive ten leagues away--
Straight as a die, while I winked and blinked on that sun-warmed wood and my
wings expanded
(Whistler drawings that men call wings)--I saw--and I flew--that's all
I can say.
XXX
Flew over leagues of whispering wonder, fairy forests and flowery palaces,
Love-lorn casements, delicate kingdoms, beautiful flaming thoughts
of--Him;
Feasts of a million blue-mailed angels lifting their honey-and-wine-brimmed
chalices,
Throned upon clouds--(which you'd call white clover) down to the
world's most rosiest rim.
XXXI
New and new and new and new, the white o' the cliffs and the wind
in the heather,
Yus, and the sea-gulls flying like flakes of the sea that flashed
to the new-born day,
Song, song, song, song, quivering up in the wild blue weather,
Thousands of seraphim singing together, and me just flying
and--_knowing my way_.
XXXII
Straight as a die to Piddinghoe's dolphin, and there I drops in a
cottage garden,
There, on a sun-warmed window-sill, I winks and peeps, for the
window was wide!
Crumbs, he was there and fast in her arms and a-begging his poor
old mother's pardon,
There with his lips on her old grey hair, and her head on his breast
while she laughed and cried,--
XXXIII
"_One and nine-pence that old tramp gave me, or else I should never have
reached you, sonny,
Never, and you just leaving the village to-day and meaning to
cross the sea,
One and nine-pence he gave me, I paid for the farmer's lift with
half o' the money!
Here's the ten-pence halfpenny, sonny, 'twill pay for our little
'ouse-warming tea._"
* * * *
XXXIV
_Tick, tack, tick, tack_, out into the garden
Toddles that old Fairy with his arm about her--so,
Cuddling of her still, and still a-begging of her pardon,
While she says "I wish the corn-flower king could only know!
Bless him, bless him, once again," she says and softly gazes
Up to heaven, a-smiling in her mutch as white as snow,
All among her gilly-flowers and stocks and double daisies,
Mignonette, forget-me-not,... _Twenty years ago_,
All a rosy glow,
_This is how it was_, she said, _Twenty years ago_.
* * * *
XXXV
Once again I seemed to wake, the vision it had fled, sir,
There I lay upon the downs: the sky was like a peach;
Yus, with twelve bokays of corn-flowers blue beside my bed, sir,
More than usual 'andsome, so they'd bring me two-pence each.
Easy as a poet's dreams they blossomed round my head, sir,
All I had to do was just to lift my hand and reach,
Tie 'em with a bit of string, and earn my blooming bread, sir,
Selling little nose-gays on the bare-foot Brighton beach,
Nose-gays _and_ a speech,
All about the bright blue eyes they matched on Brighton beach.
XXXVI
Overhead the singing lark and underfoot the heather,
Far and blue in front of us the unplumbed sky,
Me and stick and bundle, O, we jogs along together,
(Changeable the weather? Well, it ain't all pie!)
Weather's like a woman, sir, and if she wants to quarrel,
If her eyes begin to flash and hair begins to fly,
You've to wait a little, then--the story has a moral--
Ain't the sunny kisses all the sweeter by and bye?--
(Crumbs, it's 'ot and dry!
Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir!) the sweeter by and bye.
XXXVII
So the world's my sweetheart and I sort of want to squeeze 'er.
Toffs 'ull get no chance of heaven, take 'em in the lump!
Never laid in hay-fields when the dawn came over-sea, sir?
Guess it's true that story 'bout the needle and the hump!
Never crept into a stack because the wind was blowing,
Hollered out a nest and closed the door-way with a clump,
Laid and heard the whisper of the silence, growing, growing,
Watched a thousand wheeling stars and wondered if they'd bump?
What I say would stump
Joshua! But I've done it, sir. Don't think I'm off my chump.
XXXVIII
If you try and lay, sir, with your face turned up to wonder,
Up to twenty million miles of stars that roll like one,
Right across to God knows where, and you just huddled under
Like a little beetle with no business of his own,
There you'd hear--like growing grass--a funny silent sound, sir,
Mixed with curious crackles in a steady undertone,
Just the sound of twenty billion stars a-going round, sir,
Yus, and you beneath 'em like a wise old ant, alone,
Ant upon a stone,
Waving of his antlers, on the Sussex downs, alone.
ON THE DOWNS
Wide-eyed our childhood roamed the world
Knee-deep in blowing grass,
And watched the white clouds crisply curled
Above the mountain-pass,
And lay among the purple thyme
And from its fragrance caught
Strange hints from some elusive clime
Beyond the bounds of thought.
Glimpses of fair forgotten things
Beyond the gates of birth,
Half-caught from far off ancient springs
In heaven, and half of earth;
And coloured like a fairy-tale
And whispering evermore
Half memories from the half-fenced pale
Of lives we lived before.
Here, weary of the roaring town
A-while may I return
And while the west wind roams the down
Lie still, lie still and learn:
Here are green leagues of murmuring wheat
With blue skies overhead,
And, all around, the winds are sweet
With May-bloom, white and red.
And, to and fro, the bee still hums
His low unchanging song,
And the same rustling whisper comes
As through the ages long:
Through all the thousands of the years
That same sweet rumour flows,
With dreaming skies and gleaming tears
And kisses and the rose.
Once more the children throng the lanes,
Themselves like flowers, to weave
Their garlands and their daisy-chains
And listen and believe
The tale of _Once-upon-a-time_,
And hear the _Long-ago_
And _Happy-ever-after_ chime
Because it must be so.
And by those thousands of the years
It is, though scarce we see,
Dazed with the rainbows of our tears,
Their steadfast unity,
It is, or life's disjointed schemes,
These stones, these ferns unfurled
With such deep care--a madman's dreams
Were wisdom to this world!
Dust into dust! Lie still and learn,
Hear how the ages sing
The solemn joy of our return
To that which makes the Spring:
Even as we came, with childhood's trust,
Wide-eyed we go, to Thee
Who holdest In Thy sacred dust
The heavenly Springs to be.
A MAY-DAY CAROL
What is the loveliest light that Spring
Rosily parting her robe of grey
Girdled with leaflet green, can fling
Over the fields where her white feet stray?
What is the merriest promise of May
Flung o'er the dew-drenched April flowers?
Tell me, you on the pear-tree spray--
_Carol of birds between the showers_.
What can life at its lightest bring
Better than this on its brightest day?
How should we fetter the white-throat's wing
Wild with joy of its woodland way?
Sweet, should love for an hour delay,
Swift, while the primrose-time is ours!
What is the lover's royallest lay?--
_Carol of birds between the showers_.
What is the murmur of bees a-swing?
What is the laugh of a child at play?
What is the song that the angels sing?
(Where were the tune could the sweet notes stay
Longer than this, to kiss and betray?)
Nay, on the blue sky's topmost towers,
What is the song of the seraphim? Say--
_Carol of birds between the showers._
Thread the stars on a silver string,
(So did they sing in Bethlehem's bowers!)
Mirth for a little one, grief for a king,
_Carol of birds between the showers_.
THE CALL OF THE SPRING
Come, choose your road and away, my lad,
Come, choose your road and away!
We'll out of the town by the road's bright crown
As it dips to the dazzling day.
It's a long white road for the weary;
But it rolls through the heart of the May.
Though many a road would merrily ring
To the tramp of your marching feet,
All roads are one from the day that's done,
And the miles are swift and sweet,
And the graves of your friends are the mile-stones
To the land where all roads meet.
But the call that you hear this day, my lad,
Is the Spring's old bugle of mirth
When the year's green fire in a soul's desire
Is brought like a rose to the birth;
And knights ride out to adventure
As the flowers break out of the earth.
Over the sweet-smelling mountain-passes
The clouds lie brightly curled;
The wild-flowers cling to the crags and swing
With cataract-dews impearled;
And the way, the way that you choose this day
Is the way to the end of the world.
It rolls from the golden long ago
To the land that we ne'er shall find;
And it's uphill here, but it's downhill there,
For the road is wise and kind,
And all rough places and cheerless faces
Will soon be left behind.
Come, choose your road and away, away,
We'll follow the gipsy sun,
For it's soon, too soon to the end of the day,
And the day is well begun;
And the road rolls on through the heart of the May,
And there's never a May but one.
There's a fir-wood here, and a dog-rose there,
And a note of the mating dove;
And a glimpse, maybe, of the warm blue sea,
And the warm white clouds above;
And warm to your breast in a tenderer nest
Your sweetheart's little glove.
There's not much better to win, my lad,
There's not much better to win!
You have lived, you have loved, you have fought, you have proved
The worth of folly and sin;
So now come out of the City's rout,
Come out of the dust and the din.
Come out,--a bundle and stick is all
You'll need to carry along,
If your heart can carry a kindly word,
And your lips can carry a song;
You may leave the lave to the keep o' the grave,
If your lips can carry a song!
_Come, choose your road and away, my lad,
Come, choose your road and away!
We'll out of the town by the road's bright crown,
As it dips to the sapphire day!
All roads may meet at the world's end,
But, hey for the heart of the May!
Come, choose your road and away, dear lad,
Come choose your road and away._
A DEVONSHIRE DITTY
I
In a leafy lane of Devon
There's a cottage that I know,
Then a garden--then, a grey old crumbling wall,
And the wall's the wall of heaven
(Where I hardly care to go)
And there isn't any fiery sword at all.
II
But I never went to heaven.
There was right good reason why,
For they sent a shining angel to me there,
An angel, down in Devon,
(Clad in muslin by the bye)
With the halo of the sunshine on her hair.
III
Ah, whate'er the darkness covers,
And whate'er we sing or say,
Would you climb the wall of heaven an hour too soon
If you knew a place for lovers
Where the apple-blossoms stray
Out of heaven to sway and whisper to the moon?
IV
When we die--we'll think of Devon
Where the garden's all aglow
With the flowers that stray across the grey old wall:
Then we'll climb it, out of heaven,
From the other side, you know,
Straggle over it from heaven
With the apple-blossom snow,
Tumble back again to Devon
Laugh and love as long ago,
Where there isn't any fiery sword at all.
BACCHUS AND THE PIRATES
Half a hundred terrible pig-tails, pirates famous in song and story,
Hoisting the old black flag once more, in a palmy harbour of Caribbee,
"Farewell" we waved to our brown-skinned lasses, and chorussing out to
the billows of glory,
Billows a-glitter with rum and gold, we followed the sunset over the sea.
_While earth goes round, let rum go round,
Our capstan song we sung:
Half a hundred broad-sheet pirates
When the world was young!_
Sea-roads plated with pieces of eight that rolled to a heaven by rum
made mellow,
Heaved and coloured our barque's black nose where the Lascar sang
to a twinkling star,
And the tangled bow-sprit plunged and dipped its point in the west's
wild red and yellow,
Till the curved white moon crept out astern like a naked knife
from a blue cymar.
_While earth goes round, let rum go round,
Our capstan song we sung:
Half a hundred terrible pirates
When the world was young!_
Half a hundred tarry pig-tails, Teach, the chewer of glass, had taught us,
Taught us to balance the plank ye walk, your little plank-bridge
to Kingdom Come:
Half a score had sailed with Flint, and a dozen or so the devil
had brought us
Back from the pit where Blackbeard lay, in Beelzebub's bosom,
a-screech for rum.
_While earth goes round, let rum go round,
Our capstan song we sung:
Half a hundred piping pirates
When the world was young!_
There was Captain Hook (of whom ye have heard--so called from his terrible
cold steel twister,
His own right hand having gone to a shark with a taste for skippers
on pirate-trips),
There was Silver himself, with his cruel crutch, and the blind man Pew,
with a phiz like a blister,
Gouged and white and dreadfully dried in the reek of a thousand
burning ships.
_While earth goes round, let rum go round,
Our capstan song we sung:
Half a hundred cut-throat pirates
When the world was young!_
With our silver buckles and French cocked hats and our skirted coats
(they were growing greener,
But green and gold look well when spliced! We'd trimmed 'em up
wi' some fine fresh lace)
Bravely over the seas we danced to the horn-pipe tune of a concertina,
Cutlasses jetting beneath our skirts and cambric handkerchiefs
all in place.
_While earth goes round, let rum go round,
Our capstan song we sung:
Half a hundred elegant pirates
When the world was young!_
And our black prow grated, one golden noon, on the happiest isle of
the Happy Islands,
An isle of Paradise, fair as a gem, on the sparkling breast of the
wine-dark deep,
An isle of blossom and yellow sand, and enchanted vines on the purple
highlands,
Wi' grapes like melons, nay clustering suns, a-sprawl over cliffs in
their noonday sleep.
_While earth goes round let rum go round,
Our capstan song we sung:
Half a hundred dream-struck pirates
When the world was young!_
And lo! on the soft warm edge of the sand, where the sea like wine
in a golden noggin
Creamed, and the rainbow-bubbles clung to his flame-red hair,
a white youth lay,
Sleeping; and now, as his drowsy grip relaxed, the cup that he
squeezed his grog in
Slipped from his hand and its purple dregs were mixed with the flames
and flakes of spray.
_While earth goes round, let rum go round,
Our capstan song we sung:
Half a hundred diffident pirates
When the world was young!_
And we suddenly saw (had we seen them before? They were coloured like
sand or the pelt on his shoulders)
His head was pillowed on two great leopards, whose breathing rose
and sank with his own;
Now a pirate is bold, but the vision was rum and would _call_ for rum
in the best of beholders,
And it seemed we had seen Him before, in a dream, with that flame-red
hair and that vine-leaf crown.
_And the earth went round, and the rum went round,
And softlier now we sung:
Half a hundred awe-struck pirates
When the world was young!_
Now Timothy Hook (of whom ye have heard, with his talon of steel)
our doughty skipper,
A man that, in youth being brought up pious, had many a book on
his cabin-shelf,
Suddenly caught at a comrade's hand with the tearing claws of his
cold steel flipper
And cried, "Great Thunder and Brimstone, boys, I've hit it at last!
_'Tis Bacchus himself._"
_And the earth went round, and the rum went round,
And never a word we sung:
Half a hundred tottering pirates
When the world was young!_
He flung his French cocked hat i' the foam (though its lace was the best
of his wearing apparel):
We stared at him--Bacchus! The sea reeled round like a wine-vat
splashing with purple dreams,
And the sunset-skies were dashed with blood of the grape as the sun
like a new-staved barrel
Flooded the tumbling West with wine and spattered the clouds with
crimson gleams.
_And the earth went round, and our heads went round,
And never a word we sung:
Half a hundred staggering pirates
When the world was young!_
Down to the ship for a fishing-net our crafty Hook sent Silver leaping;
Back he came on his pounding crutch, for all the world like a kangaroo;
And we caught the net and up to the Sleeper on hands and knees we all
went creeping,
Flung it across him and staked it down! 'Twas the best of our dreams
and the dream was true.
_And the earth went round, and the rum went round,
And loudly now we sung:
Half a hundred jubilant pirates
When the world was young!_
We had caught our god, and we got him aboard ere he woke (he was more
than a little heavy);
Glittering, beautiful, flushed he lay in the lurching bows of
the old black barque,
As the sunset died and the white moon dawned, and we saw on the island
a star-bright bevy
Of naked Bacchanals stealing to watch through the whispering vines in
the purple dark!
_While earth goes round, let rum go round,
Our capstan song we sung:
Half a hundred innocent pirates
When the world was young!_
Beautiful under the sailing moon, in the tangled net, with the leopards
beside him,
Snared like a wild young red-lipped merman, wilful, petulant,
flushed he lay;
While Silver and Hook in their big sea-boots and their boat-cloaks
guarded and gleefully eyed him,
Thinking what Bacchus might do for a seaman, like standing him drinks,
as a man might say.
_While earth goes round, let rum go round,
We sailed away and sung:
Half a hundred fanciful pirates
When the world was young!_
All the grog that ever was heard of, gods, was it stowed in our
sure possession?
O, the pictures that broached the skies and poured their colours
across our dreams!
O, the thoughts that tapped the sunset, and rolled like a great
torchlight procession
Down our throats in a glory of glories, a roaring splendour
of golden streams!
_And the earth went round, and the stars went round,
As we hauled the sheets and sung:
Half a hundred infinite pirates
When the world was young!_
Beautiful, white, at the break of day, He woke and, the net in a
smoke dissolving,
He rose like a flame, with his yellow-eyed pards and his
flame-red hair like a windy dawn,
And the crew kept back, respectful like, till the leopards advanced
with their eyes revolving,
Then up the rigging went Silver and Hook, and the rest of us followed
with case-knives drawn.
_While earth goes round, let rum go round,
Our cross-tree song we sung:
Half a hundred terrified pirates
When the world was young!_
And "Take me home to my happy island!" he says. "Not I," sings Hook,
"by thunder;
We'll take you home to a happier isle, our palmy harbour of Caribbee!"
"You won't!" says Bacchus, and quick as a dream the planks of the deck just
heaved asunder,
And a mighty Vine came straggling up that grew from the depths of
the wine-dark sea.
_And the sea went round, and the skies went round,
As our cross-tree song we sung:
Half a hundred horrified pirates
When the world was young!_
We were anchored fast as an oak on land, and the branches clutched and
the tendrils quickened,
And bound us writhing like snakes to the spars! Ay, we hacked with our
knives at the boughs in vain,
And Bacchus laughed loud on the decks below, as ever the tough sprays
tightened and thickened,
And the blazing hours went by, and we gaped with thirst and our ribs
were racked with pain
_And the skies went round, and the sea swam round,
And we knew not what we sung:
Half a hundred lunatic pirates
When the world was young!_
Bunch upon bunch of sunlike grapes, as we writhed and struggled and raved
and strangled,
Bunch upon bunch of gold and purple daubed its bloom on our baked
black lips.
Clustering grapes, O, bigger than pumpkins, just out of reach they
bobbed and dangled
Over the vine-entangled sails of that most dumbfounded of pirate ships!
_And the sun went round, and the moon came round,
And mocked us where we hung:
Half a hundred maniac pirates
When the world was young!_
Over the waters the white moon winked its bruised old eye at our
bowery prison,
When suddenly we were aware of a light such as never a moon
or a ship's lamp throws,
And a shallop of pearl, like a Nautilus shell, came shimmering up
as by magic arisen,
With sails: of silk and a glory around it that turned the sea
to a rippling rose.
_And our heads went round, and the stars went round,
At the song that cruiser sung:
Half a hundred goggle-eyed pirates
When the world was young!_
Half a hundred rose-white Bacchanals hauled the ropes of that rosy cruiser!
Over the seas they came and laid their little white hands on the old
black barque;
And Bacchus he ups and he steps aboard: "Hi, stop!" cries Hook,
"you frantic old boozer!
Belay, below there, don't you go and leave poor pirates to
die in the dark!"
_And the moon went round, and the stars went round,
As they all pushed off and sung:
Half a hundred ribbonless Bacchanals
When the world was young!_
Over the seas they went and Bacchus he stands, with his yellow-eyed
leopards beside him,
High on the poop of rose and pearl, and kisses his hand to us,
pleasant as pie!
While the Bacchanals danced to their tambourines, and the vine-leaves
flew, and Hook just eyed him
Once, as a man that was brought up pious, and scornfully hollers,
"_Well, you ain't shy!_"
_For all around him, vine-leaf crowned,
The wild white Bacchanals flung!
Nor it wasn't a sight for respectable pirates
When the world was young!_
All around that rainbow-Nautilus rippled the bloom of a thousand roses,
Nay, but the sparkle of fairy sea-nymphs breasting a fairy-like
sea of wine,
Swimming around it in murmuring thousands, with white arms tossing;
till--all that _we_ knows is
The light went out, and the night was dark, and the grapes had
burst and their juice was--brine!
_And the vines that bound our bodies round
Were plain wet ropes that clung,
Squeezing the light out o' fifty pirates
When the world was young!_
Over the seas in the pomp of dawn a king's ship came with her proud
flag flying.
Cloud upon cloud we watched her tower with her belts and her crowded
zones of sail;
And an A.B. perched in a white crow's nest, with a brass-rimmed
spy-glass quietly spying,
As we swallowed the lumps in our choking throats and uttered
our last faint feeble hail!
_And our heads went round as the ship went round,
And we thought how coves had swung:
All for playing at broad-sheet pirates
When the world was young!_
Half a hundred trembling corsairs, all cut loose, but a trifle giddy,
We lands on their trim white decks at last and the bo'sun he whistles us
good hot grog,
And we tries to confess, but there wasn't a soul from the Admiral's
self to the gold-laced middy
But says, "They're delirious still, poor chaps," and the Cap'n he
enters the fact in his log,
_That his boat's crew found us nearly drowned
In a barrel without a bung--
Half a hundred suffering sea-cooks
When the world was young!_
So we sailed by Execution Dock, where the swinging pirates haughty
and scornful
Rattled their chains, and on Margate beach we came like a school-treat
safe to land;
And one of us took to religion at once; and the rest of the crew, tho'
their hearts were mournful,
Capered about as Christy Minstrels, while Hook conducted the big
brass band.
_And the sun went round, and the moon went round,
And, O, 'twas a thought that stung!
There was none to believe we were broad-sheet pirates
When the world was young!_
Ah, yet (if ye stand me a noggin of rum) shall the old Blue Dolphin echo
the story!
We'll hoist the white cross-bones again in our palmy harbour of Caribbee!
We'll wave farewell to our brown-skinned lasses and, chorussing out to the
billows of glory,
Billows a-glitter with rum and gold, we'll follow the sunset over the sea!
_While earth goes round, let rum go round!
O, sing it as we sung!
Half a hundred terrible pirates
When the world was young!_
THE NEWSPAPER BOY
I
Elf of the City, a lean little hollow-eyed boy
Ragged and tattered, but lithe as a slip of the Spring,
Under the lamp-light he runs with a reckless joy
Shouting a murderer's doom or the death of a King.
Out of the darkness he leaps like a wild strange hint,
Herald of tragedy, comedy, crime and despair,
Waving a poster that hurls you, in fierce black print
One word _Mystery_, under the lamp's white glare.
II
Elf of the night of the City he darts with his crew
Out of a vaporous furnace of colour that wreathes
Magical letters a-flicker from crimson to blue
High overhead. All round him the mad world seethes.
Hansoms, like cantering beetles, with diamond eyes
Run through the moons of it; busses in yellow and red
Hoot; and St. Paul's is a bubble afloat in the skies,
Watching the pale moths flit and the dark death's head.
III
Painted and powdered they shimmer and rustle and stream
Westward, the night moths, masks of the Magdalen! See,
Puck of the revels, he leaps through the sinister dream
Waving his elfin evangel of _Mystery_,
Puck of the bubble or dome of their scoffing or trust,
Puck of the fairy-like tower with the clock in its face,
Puck of an Empire that whirls on a pellet of dust
Bearing his elfin device thro' the splendours of space.
IV
_Mystery_--is it the scribble of doom on the dark,
Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin, again?
_Mystery_--is it a scrap of remembrance, a spark
Burning still in the fog of a blind world's brain?
Elf of the gossamer tangles of shadow and light,
Wild electrical webs and the battle that rolls
League upon perishing league thro' the ravenous night,
Breaker on perishing breaker of human souls.
V
Soaked in the colours, a flake of the flying spray
Flung over wreckage and yeast of the murderous town,
Onward he flaunts it, innocent, vicious and gay,
Prophet of prayers that are stifled and loves that drown,
Urchin and sprat of the City that roars like a sea
Surging around him in hunger and splendour and shame,
Cruelty, luxury, madness, he leaps in his glee
Out of the mazes of mist and the vistas of flame.
VI
Ragged and tattered he scurries away in the gloom:
Over the thundering traffic a moment his cry
Mystery! Mystery!--reckless of death and doom
Rings; and the great wheels roll and the world goes by.
Lost, is it lost, that hollow-eyed flash of the light?--
Poor little face flying by with the word that saves,
Pale little mouth of the mask of the measureless night,
Shrilling the heart of it, lost like the foam on its waves!
THE TWO WORLDS
This outer world is but the pictured scroll
Of worlds within the soul,
A coloured chart, a blazoned missal-book
Whereon who rightly look
May spell the splendours with their mortal eyes
And steer to Paradise.
O, well for him that knows and early knows
In his own soul the rose
Secretly burgeons, of this earthly flower
The heavenly paramour:
And all these fairy dreams of green-wood fern,
These waves that break and yearn,
Shadows and hieroglyphs, hills, clouds and seas,
Faces and flowers and trees,
Terrestrial picture-parables, relate
Each to its heavenly mate.
O, well for him that finds in sky and sea
This two-fold mystery,
And loses not (as painfully he spells
The fine-spun syllables)
The cadences, the burning inner gleam,
The poet's heavenly dream.
Well for the poet if this earthly chart
Be printed in his heart,
When to his world of spirit woods and seas
With eager face he flees
And treads the untrodden fields of unknown flowers
And threads the angelic bowers,
And hears that unheard nightingale whose moan
Trembles within his own,
And lovers murmuring in the leafy lanes
Of his own joys and pains.
For though he voyages further than the flight
Of earthly day and night,
Traversing to the sky's remotest ends
A world that he transcends,
Safe, he shall hear the hidden breakers roar
Against the mystic shore;
Shall roam the yellow sands where sirens bare
Their breasts and wind their hair;
Shall with their perfumed tresses blind his eyes,
And still possess the skies.
He, where the deep unearthly jungles are,
Beneath his Eastern star
Shall pass the tawny lion in his den
And cross the quaking fen.
He learnt his path (and treads it undefiled)
When, as a little child,
He bent his head with long and loving looks
O'er earthly picture-books.
His earthly love nestles against his side,
His young celestial guide.
GORSE
Between my face and the warm blue sky
The crisp white clouds go sailing by,
And the only sound is the sound of your breathing,
The song of a bird and the sea's long sigh.
Here, on the downs, as a tale re-told
The sprays of the gorse are a-blaze with gold,
As of old, on the sea-washed hills of my boyhood,
Breathing the same sweet scent as of old.
Under a ragged golden spray
The great sea sparkles far away,
Beautiful, bright, as my heart remembers
Many a dazzle of waves in May.
Long ago as I watched them shine
Under the boughs of fir and pine,
Here I watch them to-day and wonder,
Here, with my love's hand warm in mine.
The soft wings pass that we used to chase,
Dreams that I dreamed had left not a trace,
The same, the same, with the bars of crimson
The green-veined white, with its floating grace,
The same to the least bright fleck on their wings!
And I close my eyes, and a lost bird sings,
And a far sea sighs, and the old sweet fragrance
Wraps me round with the dear dead springs,
Wraps me round with the springs to be
When lovers that think not of you or me
Laugh, but our eyes will be closed in darkness,
Closed to the sky and the gorse and the sea,
And the same great glory of ragged gold
Once more, once more, as a tale re-told
Shall whisper their hearts with the same sweet fragrance
And their warm hands cling, as of old, as of old.
Dead and un-born, the same blue skies
Cover us! Love, as I read your eyes,
Do I not know whose love enfolds us,
As we fold the past in our memories,
Past, present, future, the old and the new?
From the depths of the grave a cry breaks through
And trembles, a sky-lark blind in the azure,
The depths of the all-enfolding blue.
O, resurrection of folded years
Deep in our hearts, with your smiles and tears,
Dead and un-born shall not He remember
Who folds our cry in His heart, and hears.
FOR THE EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY OF GEORGE MEREDITH
A health, a ringing health, unto the king
Of all our hearts to-day! But what proud song
Should follow on the thought, nor do him wrong?
Except the sea were harp, each mirthful string
The lovely lightning of the nights of Spring,
And Dawn the lonely listener, glad and grave
With colours of the sea-shell and the wave
In brightening eye and cheek, there is none to sing!
Drink to him, as men upon an Alpine peak
Brim one immortal cup of crimson wine,
And into it drop one pure cold crust of snow,
Then hold it up, too rapturously to speak
And drink--to the mountains, line on glittering line,
Surging away into the sunset-glow.
IN MEMORY OF SWINBURNE
I
April from shore to shore, from sea to sea,
April in heaven and on the springing spray
Buoyant with birds that sing to welcome May
And April in those eyes that mourn for thee:
"This is my singing month; my hawthorn tree
Burgeons once more," we seemed to hear thee say,
"This is my singing month: my fingers stray
Over the lute. What shall the music be?"
And April answered with too great a song
For mortal lips to sing or hearts to hear,
Heard only of that high invisible throng
For whom thy song makes April all the year!
"My singing month, what bringest thou?" Her breath
Swooned with all music, and she answered--"Death."
II
Ah, but on earth,--"can'st thou, too, die,"
Low she whispers, "lover of mine?"
April, queen over earth and sky
Whispers, her trembling lashes shine:
"Wings of the sea, good-bye, good-bye,
Down to the dim sea-line."
Home to the heart of thine old-world lover,
Home to thy "fair green-girdled" sea!
There shall thy soul with the sea-birds hover,
Free of the deep as their wings are free;
Free, for the grave-flowers only cover
This, the dark cage of thee.
Thee, the storm-bird, nightingale-souled,
Brother of Sappho, the seas reclaim!
Age upon age have the great waves rolled
Mad with her music, exultant, aflame;
Thee, thee too, shall their glory enfold,
Lit with thy snow-winged fame.
Back, thro' the years, fleets the sea-bird's wing:
_Sappho, of old time, once_,--ah, hark!
So did he love her of old and sing!
Listen, he flies to her, back thro' the dark!
_Sappho, of old time, once_.... Yea, Spring
Calls him home to her, hark!
_Sappho, long since, in the years far sped,
Sappho, I loved thee!_ Did I not seem
Fosterling only of earth? I have fled,
Fled to thee, sister. Time is a dream!
Shelley is here with us! Death lies dead!
Ah, how the bright waves gleam.
Wide was the cage-door, idly swinging;
April touched me and whispered "Come."
Out and away to the great deep winging,
Sister, I flashed to thee over the foam,
Out to the sea of Eternity, singing
"Mother, thy child comes home."
* * * *
Ah, but how shall we welcome May
Here where the wing of song droops low,
Here by the last green swinging spray
Brushed by the sea-bird's wings of snow,
We that gazed on his glorious way
Out where the great winds blow?
_Here upon earth--"can'st thou, too, die,
Lover of life and lover of mine?"
April, conquering earth and sky
Whispers, her trembling lashes shine:
"Wings of the sea, good-bye, good-bye,
Down to the dim sea-line."_
ON THE DEATH OF FRANCIS THOMPSON
I
How grandly glow the bays
Purpureally enwound
With those rich thorns, the brows
How infinitely crowned
That now thro' Death's dark house
Have passed with royal gaze:
Purpureally enwound
How grandly glow the bays.
II
Sweet, sweet and three-fold sweet,
Pulsing with three-fold pain,
Where the lark fails of flight
Soared the celestial strain;
Beyond the sapphire height
Flew the gold-winged feet,
Beautiful, pierced with pain,
Sweet, sweet and three-fold sweet;
III
And where _Is not_ and _Is_
Are wed in one sweet Name,
And the world's rootless vine
With dew of stars a-flame
Laughs, from those deep divine
Impossibilities,
Our reason all to shame--
_This cannot be, but is;_
IV
Into the Vast, the Deep
Beyond all mortal sight,
The Nothingness that conceived
The worlds of day and night,
The Nothingness that heaved
Pure sides in virgin sleep,
Brought out of Darkness, light;
And man from out the Deep.
V
Into that Mystery
Let not thine hand be thrust:
Nothingness is a world
Thy science well may trust ...
But lo, a leaf unfurled,
Nay, a cry mocking thee
From the first grain of dust--
_I am, yet cannot be!_
VI
Adventuring un-afraid
Into that last deep shrine,
Must not the child-heart see
Its deepest symbol shine,
The world's Birth-mystery,
Whereto the suns are shade?
Lo, the white breast divine--
The holy Mother-maid!
VII
How miss that Sacrifice,
That cross of Yea and Nay,
That paradox of heaven
Whose palms point either way,
Through each a nail being driven
That the arms out-span the skies
And our earth-dust this day
Out-sweeten Paradise.
VIII
We part the seamless robe,
Our wisdom would divide
The raiment of the King,
Our spear is in His side,
Even while the angels sing
Around our perishing globe,
And Death re-knits in pride
The seamless purple robe.
* * * *
IX
_How grandly glow the bays
Purpureally enwound
With those rich thorns, the brows
How infinitely crowned
That now thro' Death's dark house
Have passed with royal gaze:
Purpureally enwound
How grandly glow the bays._
IN MEMORY OF MEREDITH
I
High on the mountains, who stands proudly, clad with the light of May,
Rich as the dawn, deep-hearted as night, diamond-bright as day,
Who, while the slopes of the beautiful valley throb with our muffled tread
Who, with the hill-flowers wound in her tresses, welcomes our
deathless dead?
II
Is it not she whom he sought so long thro' the high lawns dewy and sweet,
Up thro' the crags and the glittering snows faint-flushed with her
rosy feet,
Is it not she--the queen of our night--crowned by the unseen sun,
Artemis, she that can see the light, when light upon earth is none?
III
Huntress, queen of the dark of the world (no darker at night than noon)
Beauty immortal and undefiled, the Eternal sun's white moon,
Only by thee and thy silver shafts for a flash can our hearts discern,
Pierced to the quick, the love, the love that still thro' the dark
doth yearn.
IV
What to his soul were the hill-flowers, what the gold at the break of day
Shot thro' the red-stemmed firs to the lake where the swimmer
clove his way,
What were the quivering harmonies showered from the heaven-tossed heart
of the lark,
Artemis, Huntress, what were these but thy keen shafts cleaving the dark?
V
Frost of the hedge-row, flash of the jasmine, sparkle of dew on the leaf,
Seas lit wide by the summer lightning, shafts from thy diamond sheaf,
Deeply they pierced him, deeply he loved thee, now has he found thy soul,
Artemis, thine, in this bridal peal, where we hear but the death-bell toll.
THE TESTIMONY OF ART
As earth, sad earth, thrusts many a gloomy cape
Into the sea's bright colour and living glee,
So do we strive to embay that mystery
Which earthly hands must ever let escape;
The Word we seek for is the golden shape
That shall enshrine the Soul we cannot see,
A temporal chalice of Eternity
Purple with beating blood of the hallowed grape.
Once was it wine and sacramental bread
Whereby we knew the power that through Him smiled
When, in one still small utterance, He hurled
The Eternities beneath His feet and said
With lips, O meek as any little child,
_Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world._
THE SCHOLARS
Where is the scholar whose clear mind can hold
The floral text of one sweet April mead?--
The flowing lines, which few can spell indeed
Though most will note the scarlet and the gold
Around the flourishing capitals grandly scrolled;
But ah, the subtle cadences that need
The lover's heart, the lover's heart to read,
And ah, the songs unsung, the tales untold.
Poor fools-capped scholars--grammar keeps us close,
The primers thrall us, and our eyes grow dim:
When will old Master Science hear the call,
Bid us run free with life in every limb
To breathe the poems and hear the last red rose
Gossiping over God's grey garden-wall?
RESURRECTION
Once more I hear the everlasting sea
Breathing beneath the mountain's fragrant breast,
_Come unto Me, come unto Me,
And I will give you rest._
We have destroyed the Temple and in three days
He hath rebuilt it--all things are made new:
And hark what wild throats pour His praise
Beneath the boundless blue.
We plucked down all His altars, cried aloud
And gashed ourselves for little gods of clay!
Yon floating cloud was but a cloud,
The May no more than May.
We plucked down all His altars, left not one
Save where, perchance (and ah, the joy was fleet),
We laid our garlands in the sun
At the white Sea-born's feet.
We plucked down all His altars, not to make
The small praise greater, but the great praise less,
We sealed all fountains where the soul could slake
Its thirst and weariness.
"Love" was too small, too human to be found
In that transcendent source whence love was born:
We talked of "forces": heaven was crowned
With philosophic thorn.
"Your God is in your image," we cried, but O,
'Twas only man's own deepest heart ye gave,
Knowing that He transcended all ye know,
While we--we dug His grave.
Denied Him even the crown on our own brow,
E'en these poor symbols of His loftier reign,
Levelled His Temple with the dust, and now
He is risen, He is risen again,
Risen, like this resurrection of the year,
This grand ascension of the choral spring,
Which those harp-crowded heavens bend to hear
And meet upon the wing.
"He is dead," we cried, and even amid that gloom
The wintry veil was rent! The new-born day
Showed us the Angel seated in the tomb
And the stone rolled away.
It is the hour! We challenge heaven above
Now, to deny our slight ephemeral breath
Joy, anguish, and that everlasting love
Which triumphs over death.
A JAPANESE LOVE-SONG
I
The young moon is white,
But the willows are blue:
Your small lips are red,
But the great clouds are grey:
The waves are so many
That whisper to you;
But my love is only
One flight of spray.
II
The bright drops are many,
The dark wave is one:
The dark wave subsides,
And the bright sea remains!
And wherever, O singing
Maid, you may run,
You are one with the world
For all your pains.
III
Though the great skies are dark,
And your small feet are white,
Though your wide eyes are blue
And the closed poppies red,
Tho' the kisses are many
That colour the night,
They are linked like pearls
On one golden thread.
IV
Were the grey clouds not made
For the red of your mouth;
The ages for flight
Of the butterfly years;
The sweet of the peach
For the pale lips of drouth,
The sunlight of smiles
For the shadow of tears?
V
Love, Love is the thread
That has pierced them with bliss!
All their hues are but notes
In one world-wide tune:
Lips, willows, and waves,
We are one as we kiss,
And your face and the flowers
Faint away in the moon.
THE TWO PAINTERS
(A TALE OF OLD JAPAN.)
I
Yoichi Tenko, the painter,
Dwelt by the purple sea,
Painting the peacock islands
Under his willow-tree:
Also in temples he painted
Dragons of old Japan,
With a child to look at the pictures--
Little O Kimi San.
Kimi, the child of his brother,
Bright as the moon in May,
White as a lotus lily,
Pink as a plum-tree spray,
Linking her soft arm round him
Sang to his heart for an hour,
Kissed him with ripples of laughter
And lips of the cherry flower.
Child of the old pearl-fisher
Lost in his junk at sea,
Kimi was loved of Tenko
As his own child might be,
Yoichi Tenko the painter,
Wrinkled and grey and old,
Teacher of many disciples
That paid for his dreams with gold.
II
Peonies, peonies crowned the May!
Clad in blue and white array
Came Sawara to the school
Under the silvery willow-tree,
All to learn of Tenko!
Riding on a milk-white mule,
Young and poor and proud was he,
Lissom as a cherry spray
(Peonies, peonies, crowned the day!)
And he rode the golden way
To the school of Tenko.
Swift to learn, beneath his hand
Soon he watched his wonderland
Growing cloud by magic cloud,
Under the silvery willow-tree
In the school of Tenko:
Kimi watched him, young and proud,
Painting by the purple sea,
Lying on the golden sand
Watched his golden wings expand!
(None but Love will understand
All she hid from Tenko.)
He could paint her tree and flower,
Sea and spray and wizard's tower,
With one stroke, now hard, now soft,
Under the silvery willow-tree
In the school of Tenko:
He could fling a bird aloft,
Splash a dragon in the sea,
Crown a princess in her bower,
With one stroke of magic power;
And she watched him, hour by hour,
In the school of Tenko.
Yoichi Tenko, wondering, scanned
All the work of that young hand,
Gazed his kakemonos o'er,
Under the silvery willow-tree
In the school of Tenko:
"I can teach you nothing more,
Thought or craft or mystery;
Let your golden wings expand,
They will shadow half the land,
All the world's at your command,
Come no more to Tenko."
_Lying on the golden sand,
Kimi watched his wings expand;
Wept.--He could not understand
Why she wept, said Tenko._
III
So, in her blue kimono,
Pale as the sickle moon
Glimmered thro' soft plum-branches
Blue in the dusk of June,
Stole she, willing and waning,
Frightened and unafraid,--
"Take me with you, Sawara,
Over the sea," she said.
Small and sadly beseeching,
Under the willow-tree,
Glimmered her face like a foam-flake
Drifting over the sea:
Pale as a drifting blossom,
Lifted her face to his eyes:
Slowly he gathered and held her
Under the drifting skies.
Poor little face cast backward,
Better to see his own,
Earth and heaven went past them
Drifting: they two, alone
Stood, immortal. He whispered--
"Nothing can part us two!"
Backward her sad little face went
Drifting, and dreamed it true.
"Others are happy," she murmured,
"Maidens and men I have seen;
You are my king, Sawara,
O, let me be your queen!
If I am all too lowly,"
Sadly she strove to smile,
"Let me follow your footsteps,
Your slave for a little while."
Surely, he thought, I have painted
Nothing so fair as this
Moonlit almond blossom
Sweet to fold and kiss,
Brow that is filled with music,
Shell of a faery sea,
Eyes like the holy violets
Brimmed with dew for me.
"Wait for Sawara," he whispered,
"Does not his whole heart yearn
Now to his moon-bright maiden?
Wait, for he will return
Rich as the wave on the moon's path
Rushing to claim his bride!"
So they plighted their promise,
And the ebbing sea-wave sighed.
IV
Moon and flower and butterfly,
Earth and heaven went drifting by,
Three long years while Kimi dreamed
Under the silvery willow-tree
In the school of Tenko,
Steadfast while the whole world streamed
Past her tow'rds Eternity;
Steadfast till with one great cry,
Ringing to the gods on high,
Golden wings should blind the sky
And bring him back to Tenko.
Three long years and nought to say
"Sweet, I come the golden way,
Riding royally to the school
Under the silvery willow-tree
Claim my bride of Tenko;
Silver bells on a milk-white mule,
Rose-red sails on an emerald sea!" ...
Kimi sometimes went to pray
In the temple nigh the bay,
Dreamed all night and gazed all day
Over the sea from Tenko.
Far away his growing fame
Lit the clouds. No message came
From the sky, whereon she gazed
Under the silvery willow-tree
Far away from Tenko!
Small white hands in the temple raised
Pleaded with the Mystery,--
"Stick of incense in the flame,
Though my love forget my name,
Help him, bless him, all the same,
And ... bring him back to Tenko!"
_Rose-white temple nigh the bay,
Hush! for Kimi comes to pray,
Dream all night and gaze all day
Over the sea from Tenko._
V
So, when the rich young merchant
Showed him his bags of gold,
Yoichi Tenko, the painter,
Gave him her hand to hold,
Said: "You shall wed him, O Kimi."
Softly he lied and smiled--
"_Yea, for Sawara is wedded!
Let him not mock you, child._"
Dumbly she turned and left them,
Never a word or cry
Broke from her lips' grey petals
Under the drifting sky:
Down to the spray and the rainbows,
Where she had watched him of old
Painting the rose-red islands,
Painting the sand's wet gold,
Down to their dreams of the sunset,
Frail as a flower's white ghost,
Lonely and lost she wandered
Down to the darkening coast;
Lost in the drifting midnight,
Weeping, desolate, blind.
Many went out to seek her:
Never a heart could find.
Yoichi Tenko, the painter,
Plucked from his willow-tree
Two big paper lanterns
And ran to the brink of the sea;
Over his head he held them,
Crying, and only heard,
Somewhere, out in the darkness,
The cry of a wandering bird.
VI
Peonies, peonies thronged the May
When in royal-rich array
Came Sawara to the school
Under the silvery willow-tree--
To the school of Tenko!
Silver bells on a milk-white mule,
Rose-red sails on an emerald sea!
Over the bloom of the cherry spray,
Peonies, peonies dimmed the day;
And he rode the royal way
Back to Yoichi Tenko.
Yoichi Tenko, half afraid,
Whispered, "Wed some other maid;
Kimi left me all alone
Under the silvery willow-tree,
Left me," whispered Tenko,
"Kimi had a heart of stone!"--
"Kimi, Kimi? Who is she?
Kimi? Ah--the child that played
Round the willow-tree. She prayed
Often; and, whate'er I said,
She believed it, Tenko."
He had come to paint anew
Those dim isles of rose and blue,
For a palace far away,
Under the silvery willow-tree--
So he said to Tenko;
And he painted, day by day,
Golden visions of the sea.
No, he had not come to woo;
Yet, had Kimi proven true,
Doubtless he had loved her too,
Hardly less than Tenko.
Since the thought was in his head,
He would make his choice and wed;
And a lovely maid he chose
Under the silvery willow-tree.
"Fairer far," said Tenko.
"Kimi had a twisted nose,
And a foot too small, for me,
And her face was dull as lead!"
"Nay, a flower, be it white or red,
_Is_ a flower," Sawara said!
"So it is," said Tenko.
VII
Great Sawara, the painter,
Sought, on a day of days,
One of the peacock islands
Out in the sunset haze:
Rose-red sails on the water
Carried him quickly nigh;
There would he paint him a wonder
Worthy of Hokusai.
Lo, as he leapt o'er the creaming
Roses of faery foam,
Out of the green-lipped caverns
Under the isle's blue dome,
White as a drifting snow-flake,
White as the moon's white flame,
White as a ghost from the darkness,
Little O Kimi came.
"Long I have waited, Sawara,
Here in our sunset isle,
Sawara, Sawara, Sawara,
Look on me once, and smile;
Face I have watched so long for,
Hands I have longed to hold,
Sawara, Sawara, Sawara,
Why is your heart so cold?"
Surely, he thought, I have painted
Nothing so fair as this
Moonlit almond blossom
Sweet to fold and kiss....
"Kimi," he said, "I am wedded!
Hush, for it could not be!"
"Kiss me one kiss," she whispered,
"Me also, even me."
Small and terribly drifting
Backward, her sad white face
Lifted up to Sawara
Once, in that lonely place,
White as a drifting blossom
Under his wondering eyes,
Slowly he gathered and held her
Under the drifting skies.
"Others are happy," she whispered,
"Maidens and men I have seen:
Be happy, be happy, Sawara!
The other--shall be--your queen!
Kiss me one kiss for parting."
Trembling she lifted her head,
Then like a broken blossom
It fell on his arm. She was dead.
VIII
Much impressed, Sawara straight
(Though the hour was growing late)
Made a sketch of Kimi lying
By the lonely, sighing sea,
Brought it back to Tenko.
Tenko looked it over crying
(Under the silvery willow-tree).
"You have burst the golden gate!
You have conquered Time and Fate!
Hokusai is not so great!
This is Art," said Tenko!
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND
I
I remember--
a breath, a breath
Blown thro' the rosy gates of birth,
A morning freshness not of the earth
But cool and strange and lovely as death
In Paradise, in Paradise,
When, all to suffer the old sweet pain
Closing his immortal eyes
Wonder-wild an angel lies
With wings of rainbow-tinctured grain
Withering till--ah, wonder-wild,
Here on the dawning earth again
He wakes, a little child.
II
I remember--
a gleam, a gleam
Of sparkling waves and warm blue sky
Far away and long ago,
Or ever I knew that youth could die;
And out of the dawn, the dawn, the dawn,
Into the unknown life we sailed
As out of sleep into a dream,
And, as with elfin cables drawn
In dusk of purple over the glowing
Wrinkled measureless emerald sea,
The light cloud shadows larger far
Than the sweet shapes which drew them on,
Elfin exquisite shadows flowing
Between us and the morning star
Chased us all a summer's day,
And our sail like a dew-lit blossom shone
Till, over a rainbow haze of spray
That arched a reef of surf like snow
--Far away and long ago--
We saw the sky-line rosily engrailed
With tufted peaks above a smooth lagoon
Which growing, growing, growing as we sailed
Curved all around them like a crescent moon;
And then we saw the purple-shadowed creeks,
The feathery palms, the gleaming golden streaks
Of sand, and nearer yet, like jewels of fire
Streaming between the boughs, or floating higher
Like tiny sunset-clouds in noon-day skies,
The birds of Paradise.
III
The island floated in the air,
Its image floated in the sea:
Which was the shadow? Both were fair:
Like sister souls they seemed to be;
And one was dreaming and asleep,
And one bent down from Paradise
To kiss with radiance in the deep
The darkling lips and eyes.
And, mingling softly in their dreams,
That holy kiss of sea and sky
Transfused the shadows and the gleams
Of Time and of Eternity:
The dusky face looked up and gave
To heaven its golden shadowed calm;
The face of light fulfilled the wave
With blissful wings and fans of palm.
Above, the tufted rosy peaks
That melted in the warm blue skies,
Below, the purple-shadowed creeks
That glassed the birds of Paradise--
A bridal knot, it hung in heaven;
And, all around, the still lagoon
From bloom of dawn to blush of even
Curved like a crescent moon.
And there we wandered evermore
Thro' boyhood's everlasting years,
Listening the murmur of the shore
As one that lifts a shell and hears
The murmur of forgotten seas
Around some lost Broceliande,
The sigh of sweet Eternities
That turn the world to fairy-land,
That turned our isle to a single pearl
Glowing in measureless waves of wine!
Above, below, the clouds would curl,
Above, below, the stars would shine
In sky and sea. We hung in heaven!
Time and space were but elfin-sweet
Rock-bound pools for the dawn and even
To wade with their rosy feet.
Our pirate cavern faced the West:
We closed its door with screens of palm,
While some went out to seek the nest
Wherein the Phoenix, breathing balm,
Burns and dies to live for ever
(How should we dream we lived to die?)
And some would fish in the purple river
That thro' the hills brought down the sky.
And some would dive in the lagoon
Like sunbeams, and all round our isle
Swim thro' the lovely crescent moon,
Glimpsing, for breathless mile on mile,
The wild sea-woods that bloomed below,
The rainbow fish, the coral cave
Where vanishing swift as melting snow
A mermaid's arm would wave.
Then dashing shoreward thro' the spray
On sun-lit sands they cast them down,
Or in the white sea-daisies lay
With sun-stained bodies rosy-brown,
Content to watch the foam-bows flee
Across the shelving reefs and bars,
With wild eyes gazing out to sea
Like happy haunted stars.
IV
And O, the wild sea-maiden
Drifting through the starlit air,
With white arms blossom-laden
And the sea-scents in her hair:
Sometimes we heard her singing
The midnight forest through,
Or saw a soft hand flinging
Blossoms drenched with starry dew
Into the dreaming purple cave;
And, sometimes, far and far away
Beheld across the glooming wave
Beyond the dark lagoon,
Beyond the silvery foaming bar,
The black bright rock whereon she lay
Like a honey-coloured star
Singing to the breathless moon,
Singing in the silent night
Till the stars for sheer delight
Closed their eyes, and drowsy birds
In the midmost forest spray
Took their heads from out their wings,
Thinking--it is Ariel sings
And we must catch the witching words
And sing them o'er by day.
V
And then, there came a breath, a breath
Cool and strange and dark as death,
A stealing shadow, not of the earth
But fresh and wonder-wild as birth.
I know not when the hour began
That changed the child's heart in the man,
Or when the colours began to wane,
But all our roseate island lay
Stricken, as when an angel dies
With wings of rainbow-tinctured grain
Withering, and his radiant eyes
Closing. Pitiless walls of grey
Gathered around us, a growing tomb
From which it seemed not death or doom
Could roll the stone away.
VI
Yet--I remember--
a gleam, a gleam,
(Or ever I dreamed that youth could die!)
Of sparkling waves and warm blue sky
As out of sleep into a dream,
Wonder-wild for the old sweet pain,
We sailed into that unknown sea
Through the gates of Eternity.
Peacefully close your mortal eyes
For ye shall wake to it again
In Paradise, in Paradise.
UNITY
I
Heart of my heart, the world is young;
Love lies hidden in every rose!
Every song that the skylark sung
Once, we thought, must come to a close:
Now we know the spirit of song,
Song that is merged in the chant of the whole,
Hand in hand as we wander along,
What should we doubt of the years that roll?
II
Heart of my heart, we cannot die!
Love triumphant in flower and tree,
Every life that laughs at the sky
Tells us nothing can cease to be:
One, we are one with a song to-day,
One with the clover that scents the wold,
One with the Unknown, far away,
One with the stars, when earth grows old.
III
Heart of my heart, we are one with the wind,
One with the clouds that are whirled o'er the lea,
One in many, O broken and blind,
One as the waves are at one with the sea!
Ay! when life seems scattered apart,
Darkens, ends as a tale that is told,
One, we are one, O heart of my heart,
One, still one, while the world grows old.
THE HILL-FLOWER
_It is my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes_--
So was it sung one golden hour
Among the woodbine wreaths;
And yet, though wet with living dew,
The song seemed far more sweet than true.
Blind creatures of the sun and air
I dreamed it but a dream
That, like Narcissus, would confer
With self in every stream,
And to the leaves and boughs impart
The tremors of a human heart.
To-day a golden pinion stirred
The world's Bethesda pool,
And I believed the song I heard
Nor put my heart to school;
And through the rainbows of the dream
I saw the gates of Eden gleam.
The rain had ceased. The great hills rolled
In silence to the deep:
The gorse in waves of green and gold
Perfumed their lonely sleep;
And, at my feet, one elfin flower
Drooped, blind with glories of the shower.
I stooped--a giant from the sky--
Above its piteous shield,
And, suddenly, the dream went by,
And there--was heaven revealed!
I stooped to pluck it; but my hand
Paused, mid-way, o'er its fairyland.
Not of mine own was that strange voice,
"Pluck--tear a star from heaven!"
Mine only was the awful choice
To scoff and be forgiven
Or hear the very grass I trod
Whispering the gentle thoughts of God.
I know not if the hill-flower's place
Beneath that mighty sky,
Its lonely and aspiring grace,
Its beauty born to die,
Touched me, I know it seemed to be
Cherished by all Eternity.
Man, doomed to crush at every stride
A hundred lives like this
Which by their weakness were allied,
If by naught else, to his,
Can only for a flash discern
What passion through the whole doth yearn.
Not into words can I distil
The pity or the pain
Which hallowing all that lonely hill
Cried out "Refrain, refrain,"
Then breathed from earth and sky and sea,
"Herein you did it unto Me."
Somewhile that hill was heaven's own breast,
The flower its joy and grief,
Hugged close and fostered and caressed
In every brief bright leaf:
And, ere I went thro' sun and dew,
I leant and gently touched it, too.
ACTAEON
"Who stood beside the naked Swift-footed
And bound his forehead with Proserpine's hair."
--BROWNING (_Pauline_)
I
_Light of beauty, O, "perfect in whiteness,"
Softly suffused thro' the world's dark shrouds,
Kindling them all as they pass by thy brightness,--
Hills, men, cities,--a pageant of clouds,
Thou to whom Life and Time surrender
All earth's forms as to heaven's deep care,
Who shall pierce to thy naked splendour,
Bind his brows with thy hair?_
II
Swift thro' the sprays when Spring grew bolder
Young Actaeon swept to the chase!
Golden the fawn-skin, back from the shoulder
Flowing, set free the limbs' lithe grace,
Muscles of satin that rippled like sunny
Streams--a hunter, a young athlete,
Scattering dews and crushing out honey
Under his sandalled feet.
III
Sunset softened the crags of the mountain,
Silence melted the hunter's heart,
Only the sob of a falling fountain
Pulsed in a deep ravine apart:
All the forest seemed waiting breathless,
Eager to whisper the dying day
Some rich word that should utter the deathless
Secret of youth and May.
IV
Down, as to May thro' the flowers that attend her,
Slowly, on tip-toe, down the ravine
Fair as the sun-god, poising a slender
Spear like a moon-shaft silver and green,
Stole he! Ah, did the oak-wood ponder
Youth's glad dream in its heart of gloom?
Dryad or fawn was it started yonder?
Ah, what whisper of doom?
V
Gold, thro' the ferns as he gazed and listened,
Shone the soul of the wood's deep dream,
One bright glade and a pool that glistened
Full in the face of the sun's last gleam,--
Gold in the heart of a violet dingle!
Young Actaeon, beware! beware!
Who shall track, while the pulses tingle,
Spring to her woodland lair?
VI
See, at his feet, what mystical quiver,
Maiden's girdle and robe of snow,
Tossed aside by the green glen-river
Ere she bathed in the pool below?
All the fragrance of April meets him
Full in the face with its young sweet breath;
Yet, as he steals to the glade, there greets him--
Hush, what whisper of death?
VII
Lo, in the violets, lazily dreaming,
Young Diana, the huntress, lies:
One white side thro' the violets gleaming
Heaves and sinks with her golden sighs,
One white breast like a diamond crownet
Couched in a velvet casket glows,
One white arm, tho' the violets drown it,
Thrills their purple with rose.
VIII
Buried in fragrance, the half-moon flashes,
Beautiful, clouded, from head to heel:
One white foot in the warm wave plashes,
Violets tremble and half reveal,
Half conceal, as they kiss, the slender
Slope and curve of her sleeping limbs:
Violets bury one half the splendour
Still, as thro' heaven, she swims.
IX
Cold as the white rose waking at daybreak
Lifts the light of her lovely face,
Poised on an arm she watches the spray break
Over the slim white ankle's grace,
Watches the wave that sleeplessly tosses
Kissing the pure foot's pink sea-shells,
Watches the long-leaved heaven-dark mosses
Drowning their star-bright bells.
X
Swift as the Spring where the South has brightened
Earth with bloom in one passionate night,
Swift as the violet heavens had lightened
Swift to perfection, blinding, white,
Dian arose: and Actaeon saw her,
Only he since the world began!
Only in dreams could Endymion draw her
Down to the heart of man.
XI
Fair as the dawn upon Himalaya
Anger flashed from her cheek's pure rose,
Alpine peaks at the passage of Maia
Flushed not fair as her breasts' white snows.
Ah, fair form of the heaven's completeness,
Who shall sing thee or who shall say
Whence that "high perfection of sweetness,"
Perfect to save or slay?
XII
_Perfect in beauty, beauty the portal
Here on earth to the world's deep shrine,
Beauty hidden in all things mortal,
Who shall mingle his eyes with thine?
Thou, to whom Life and Death surrender
All earth's forms as to heaven's deep care,
Who shall pierce to thy naked splendour,
Bind his brows with thy hair?_
XIII
_Beauty, perfect in blinding whiteness,
Softly suffused thro' the world's dark shrouds,
Kindling them all as they pass by her brightness,--
Hills, men, cities,--a pageant of clouds,
She, the unchanging, shepherds their changes,
Bids them mingle and form and flow,
Flowers and flocks and the great hill-ranges
Follow her cry and go._
XIV
Swift as the sweet June lightning flashes,
Down she stoops to the purpling pool,
Sudden and swift her white hand dashes
Rainbow mists in his eyes! "Ah, fool!
Hunter," she cries to the young Actaeon,
"Change to the hunted, rise and fly,
Swift ere the wild pack utter its paean,
Swift for thy hounds draw nigh!"
XV
Lo, as he trembles, the greenwood branches
Dusk his brows with their antlered pride!
Lo, as a stag thrown back on its haunches
Quivers, with velvet nostrils wide,
Lo, he changes! The soft fur darkens
Down to the fetlock's lifted fear!--
Hounds are baying!--he snuffs and hearkens,
"Fly, for the stag is here!"
XVI
Swift as he leapt thro' the ferns, Actaeon,
Young Actaeon, the lordly stag,
Full and mellow the deep-mouthed paean
Swelled behind him from crag to crag:
Well he remembered that sweet throat leading,
Wild with terror he raced and strained,
On thro' the darkness, thorn-swept, bleeding:
Ever they gained and gained!
XVII
Death, like a darkling huntsman holloed--
Swift, Actaeon!--desire and shame
Leading the pack of the passions followed.
Red jaws frothing with white-hot flame,
Volleying out of the glen, they leapt up,
Snapped and fell short of the foam-flecked thighs ...
Inch by terrible inch they crept up,
Shadows with blood-shot eyes.
XVIII
Still with his great heart bursting asunder
Still thro' the night he struggled and bled;
Suddenly round him the pack's low thunder
Surged, the hounds that his own hand fed
Fastened in his throat, with red jaws drinking
Deep!--for a moment his antlered pride
Soared o'er their passionate seas, then, sinking,
Fell for the fangs to divide.
XIX
_Light of beauty, O, perfect in whiteness,
Softly suffused thro' the years' dark veils,
Kindling them all as they pass by her brightness,
Filling our hearts with her old-world tales,
She, the unchanging, shepherds their changes,
Bids them mingle and form and flow,
Flowers and flocks and the great hill-ranges
Follow her cry and go._
XX
Still, in the violets, lazily dreaming
Young Diana, the huntress, lies:
One white side thro' the violets gleaming
Heaves and sinks with her golden sighs;
One white breast like a diamond crownet
Couched in a velvet casket glows,
One white arm, tho' the violets drown it,
Thrills their purple with rose.
LUCIFER'S FEAST
(A EUROPEAN NIGHTMARE.)
To celebrate the ascent of man, one gorgeous night
Lucifer gave a feast.
Its world-bewildering light
Danced in Belshazzar's tomb, and the old kings dead and gone
Felt their dust creep to jewels in crumbling Babylon.
Two nations were His guests--the top and flower of Time,
The fore-front of an age which now had learned to climb
The slopes where Newton knelt, the heights that Shakespeare trod,
The mountains whence Beethoven rolled the voice of God.
Lucifer's feasting-lamps were like the morning stars,
But at the board-head shone the blood-red lamp of Mars.
League upon glittering league, white front and flabby face
Bent o'er the groaning board. Twelve brave men droned the grace;
But with instinctive tact, in courtesy to their Host,
Omitted God the Son and God the Holy Ghost,
And to the God of Battles raised their humble prayers.
Then, then, like thunder, all the guests drew up their chairs.
By each a drinking-cup, yellow, almost, as gold.
(_The blue eye-sockets gave the thumbs a good firm hold_)
Adorned the flowery board. Could even brave men shrink?
Why if the cups _were_ skulls, they had red wine to drink!
And had not each a napkin, white and peaked and proud,
Waiting to wipe his mouth? A napkin? Nay, a shroud!
This was a giant's feast, on hell's imperial scale.
The blades glistened.
The shrouds--O, in one snowy gale,
The pink hands fluttered them out, and spread them on their knees.
Who knew what gouts might drop, what filthy flakes of grease,
Now that o'er every shoulder, through the coiling steam,
Inhuman faces peered, with wolfish eyes a-gleam,
And grey-faced vampire Lusts that whinneyed in each ear
Hints of the hideous courses?
None may name them here?
None? And we may not see! The distant cauldrons cloak
The lava-coloured plains with clouds of umber smoke.
Nay, by that shrapnel-light, by those wild shooting stars
That rip the clouds away with fiercer fire than Mars,
They are painted sharp as death. If these can eat and drink
Chatter and laugh and rattle their knives, why should we shrink
From empty names? We know those ghastly gleams are true:
Why should Christ cry again--_They know not what they do?_
They, heirs of all the ages, sons of Shakespeare's land,
They, brothers of Beethoven, smiling, cultured, bland,
Whisper with sidling heads to ghouls with bloody lips.
Each takes upon his plate a small round thing that drips
And quivers, a child's heart.
Miles on miles
The glittering table bends o'er that first course, and smiles;
For, through the wreaths of smoke, the grey Lusts bear aloft
The second course, on leaden chargers, large and soft,
Bodies of women, steaming in an opal mist,
Red-branded here and there where vampire-teeth have kissed.
But white as pig's flesh, newly killed, and cleanly dressed,
A lemon in each mouth and roses round each breast,
Emblems to show how deeply, sweetly satisfied,
The breasts, the lips, can sleep, whose children fought and died
For--what? For country? God, once more Thy shrapnel-light!
Let those dark slaughter-houses burst upon our sight,
These kitchens are too clean, too near the tiring room!
Let Thy white shrapnel rend those filthier veils of gloom,
Rip the last fogs away and strip the foul thing bare!
One lightning-picture--see--yon bayonet-bristling square
Mown down, mown down, mown down, wild swathes of crimson wheat,
The white-eyed charge, the blast, the terrible retreat,
The blood-greased wheels of cannon thundering into line
O'er that red writhe of pain, rent groin and shattered spine,
The moaning faceless face that kissed its child last night,
The raw pulp of the heart that beat for love's delight,
The heap of twisting bodies, clotted and congealed
In one red huddle of anguish on the loathsome field,
The seas of obscene slaughter spewing their blood-red yeast,
Multitudes pouring out their entrails for the feast,
Knowing not why, but dying, they think, for some high cause,
Dying for "hearth and home," their flags, their creeds, their laws.
Ask of the Bulls and Bears, ask if they understand
How both great grappling armies bleed for their own land;
For in that faith they die! These hoodwinked thousands die
Simply as heroes, gulled by hell's profoundest lie.
Who keeps the slaughter-house? Not these, not these who gain
Nought but the sergeant's shilling and the homeless pain!
Who pulls the ropes? Not these, who buy their crust of bread
With the salt sweat of labour! These but bury their dead
Then sweat again for food!
Christ, is the hour not come,
To send forth one great voice and strike this dark hell dumb,
A voice to out-crash the cannon, one united cry
To sweep these wild-beast standards down that stain the sky,
To hurl these Lions and Bears and Eagles to their doom,
One voice, one heart, one soul, one fire that shall consume
The last red reeking shreds that flicker against the blast
And purge the Augean stalls we call "our glorious past"!
One voice from dawn and sunset, one almighty voice,
Full-throated as the sea--ye sons o' the earth, rejoice!
Beneath the all-loving sky, confederate kings ye stand,
Fling open wide the gates o' the world-wide Fatherland.
* * * *
Poor fools, we dare not dream it! We that pule and whine
Of art and science, we, whose great souls leave no shrine
Unshattered, we that climb the Sinai Shakespeare trod,
The Olivets where Beethoven walked and talked with God,
We that have weighed the stars and reined the lightning, we
That stare thro' heaven and plant our footsteps in the sea,
We whose great souls have risen so far above the creeds
That we can jest at Christ and leave Him where He bleeds,
A legend of the dark, a tale so false or true
That howsoe'er we jest at Him, the jest sounds new.
(Our weariest dinner-tables never tire of that!
Let the clown sport with Christ, never the jest falls flat!)
Poor fools, we dare not dream a dream so strange, so great,
As on this ball of dust to found one "world-wide state,"
To float one common flag above our little lands,
And ere our little sun grows cold to clasp our hands
In friendship for a moment!
* * * *
Hark, the violins
Are swooning through the mist. The great blue band begins,
Playing, in dainty scorn, a hymn we used to know,
How long was it, ten thousand thousand years ago?
_There is a green hill far away
Beside a City wall!_--
And O, the music swung a-stray
With a solemn dying fall;
For it was a pleasant jest to play
Hymns in the Devil's Hall.
And yet, and yet, if aught be true,
This dream we left behind,
This childish Christ, be-mocked anew
To please the men of mind,
Yet hung so far beyond the flight
Of our most lofty thought
That--Lucifer laughed _at_ us that night.
Not _with_ us, as he ought.
Beneath the blood-red lamp of Mars,
Cloaked with a scarlet cloud
He gazed along the line of stars
Above the guzzling crowd:
Sinister, thunder-scarred, he raised
His great world-wandering eyes,
And on some distant vision gazed
Beyond our cloudy skies.
"_Poor bats_," he sneered, "_their jungle-dark
Civilisation's noon!
Poor wolves, that hunt in packs and bark
Beneath the grinning moon;
Poor fools, that cast the cross away,
Before they break the sword;
Poor sots, who take the night for day;
Have mercy on me, Lord._
"_Beyond their wisdom's deepest skies
I see Thee hanging yet,
The love still hungering in Thine eyes,
Thy plaited crown still wet!
Thine arms outstretched to fold them all
Beneath Thy sheltering breast;
But--since they will not hear Thy call,
Lord, I forbear to jest._
"_Lord, I forbear! The day I fell
I fell at least thro' pride!
Rather than these should share my hell
Take me, thou Crucified!
O, let me share Thy cross of grief,
And let me work Thy will,
As morning star, or dying thief.
Thy fallen angel still._
"_Lord, I forbear! For Thee, at least,
In pain so like to mine,
The mighty meaning of their feast
Is plain as bread and wine:
O, smile once more, far off, alone!
Since these nor hear nor see,
From my deep hell, so like Thine own,
Lord Christ, I pity Thee._"
Yet once again, he thought, they shall be fully tried,
If they be devils or fools too light for hell's deep pride.
The champ of teeth was over, and the reeking room
Gaped for the speeches now. Across the sulphurous fume
Lucifer gave a sign. The guests stood thundering up!
"Gentlemen, charge your glasses!"
Every yellow cup
Frothed with the crimson blood. They brandished them on high!
"Gentlemen, drink to those who fight and know not why!"
And in the bubbling blood each nose was buried deep.
"Gentlemen, drink to those who sowed that we might reap!
Drink to the pomp, pride, circumstance, of glorious war,
The grand self-sacrifice that made us what we are!
And drink to the peace-lovers who believe that peace
Is War, red, bloody War; for War can never cease
Unless we drain the veins of peace to fatten WAR!
Gentlemen, drink to the brains that made us what we are!
Drink to self-sacrifice that helps us all to shake
The world with tramp of armies. Germany, awake!
England, awake! Shakespeare's, Beethoven's Fatherland,
Are you not both aware, do you not understand,
Self-sacrifice is competition? It is the law
Of Life, and so, though both of you are wholly right,
Self-sacrifice requires that both of you should fight."
And "Hoch! hoch! hoch!" they cried; and "Hip, hip, hip, Hurrah!"
This raised the gorge of Lucifer. With one deep "Bah,"
Above those croaking toads he towered like Gabriel;
Then straightway left the table and went home to hell.
VETERANS
(WRITTEN FOR THE RELIEF FUND OF THE CRIMEAN VETERANS.)
I
When the last charge sounds
And the battle thunders o'er the plain,
Thunders o'er the trenches where the red streams flow,
Will it not be well with us,
Veterans, veterans,
If, beneath your torn old flag, we burst upon the foe?
II
When the last post sounds
And the night is on the battle-field,
Night and rest at last from all the tumult of our wars,
Will it not be well with us,
Veterans, veterans,
If, with duty done like yours, we lie beneath the stars?
III
When the great reveille sounds
For the terrible last Sabaoth,
All the legions of the dead shall hear the trumpet ring!
Will it not be well with us,
Veterans, veterans,
If, beneath your torn old flag, we rise to meet our King?
THE QUEST RENEWED
It is too soon, too soon, though time be brief,
Quite to forswear thy quest,
O Light, whose farewell dyes the falling leaf,
Fades thro' the fading west.
Thou'rt flown too soon! I stretch my hands out still,
O, Light of Life, to Thee,
Who leav'st an Olivet in each far blue hill,
A sorrow on every sea.
It is too soon, here while the loud world roars
For wealth and power and fame,
Too soon quite to forget those other shores
Afar, from whence I came;
Too soon even to forget the first dear dream
Dreamed far away, when tears could freely flow;
And life seemed infinite, as that sky's great gleam
Deepened, to which I go;
Too soon even to forget the fluttering fire
And those old books beside the friendly hearth,
When time seemed endless as my own desire,
And angels walked our earth;
Too soon quite to forget amid the throng
What once the silent hills, the sounding beach
Taught me--where singing was the prize of song,
And heaven within my reach.
It is too soon amid the cynic sneers,
The sophist smiles, the greedy mouths and hands,
Quite to forget the light of those dead years
And my lost mountain-lands;
Too soon to lose that everlasting hope
(For so it seemed) of youth in love's pure reign,
Though while I linger on this darkening slope
Nought seems quite worth the pain.
It is too soon for me to break that trust,
O, Light of Light, flown far past sun and moon,
Burn back thro' this dark panoply of dust;
Or let me follow--soon.
THE LIGHTS OF HOME
Pilot, how far from home?--
Not far, not far to-night,
A flight of spray, a sea-bird's flight,
A flight of tossing foam,
And then the lights of home!--
And, yet again, how far?
And seems the way so brief?
Those lights beyond the roaring reef
Were lights of moon and star,
Far, far, none knows how far!
Pilot, how far from home?--
The great stars pass away
Before Him as a flight of spray,
Moons as a flight of foam!
I see the lights of home.
NEW POEMS
'TWEEN THE LIGHTS
"The Nine men's morrice is filled up with mud ...
From our debate, from our dissension."
--SHAKESPEARE
I
Fairies, come back! We have not seen
Your dusky foot-prints on the green
This many a year. No frolic now
Shakes the dew from the hawthorn-bough.
Never a man and never a maid
Spies you in the blue-bell shade;
Yet, where the nine men's morrice stood,
Our spades are clearing out the mud.
_Chorus._--_Come, little irised heralds, fling
Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing
The bright eyes and the cordial hand
Of brotherhood thro' all our land._
II
Fairies, come back! Our pomp of gold,
Our blazing noon, grows grey and old;
The scornful glittering ages wane:
Forgive, forget, come back again.
This is our England's Hallowe'en!
Come, trip it, trip it o'er the green,
Trip it, amidst the roaring mart,
In the still meadows of the heart.
_Come, little irised heralds, fling
Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing
The bright eyes and the cordial hand
Of brotherhood thro' all our land._
III
Fairies, come back! Once more the gleams
Of your lost Eden haunt our dreams,
Where Evil, at the touch of Good,
Withers in the Enchanted Wood:
Fairies, come back! Drive gaunt Despair
And Famine to their ghoulish lair!
Tap at each heart's bright window-pane
Thro' merry England once again.
_Come, little irised heralds, fling
Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing
The bright eyes and the cordial hand
Of brotherhood thro' all our land._
IV
Fairies, come back! And, if you bring
That long-expected song to sing,
Ciss needs not, ere she welcomes you,
To find a sixpence in her shoe!
If, of the mud he clears away,
Tom bears the ignoble stain to-day,
Come back, and he will not forget
The heavens that yearn beyond us yet.
_Come, little irised heralds, fling
Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing
The bright eyes and the cordial hand
Of brotherhood thro' all our land._
V
Yet, if for this you will not come,
Your friends, the children, call you home,
Fairies, they wear no May-day crowns,
Your playmates in those grim black towns
Look, fairies, how they peak and pine,
How hungrily their great eyes shine!
From fevered alley and foetid lane
Plead the thin arms--_Come back again!_
_Come, little irised heralds, fling
Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing
The bright eyes and the cordial hand
Of brotherhood thro' all our land._
VI
We have named the stars and weighed the moon,
Counted our gains and ... lost the boon,
If _this_ be the end of all our lore--
To draw the blind and close the door!
O, lift the latch, slip in between
The things which we have heard and seen,
Slip thro' the fringes of the blind
Into the souls of all mankind.
_Come, little irised heralds, fling
Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing
The bright eyes and the cordial hand
Of brotherhood thro' all our land._
VII
Fairies, come back! Our wisdom dies
Beneath your deeper, starrier skies!
We have reined the lightning, probed the flower:
Bless, as of old, our twilight hour!
Bring dreams, and let the dreams be true,
Bring hope that makes each heart anew,
Bring love that knits all hearts in one;
Then--sing of heaven and bring the sun!
_Come, little irised heralds, fling
Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing
The bright eyes and the cordial hand
Of brotherhood thro' all our land._
CREATION
In the beginning, there was nought
But heaven, one Majesty of Light,
Beyond all speech, beyond all thought,
Beyond all depth, beyond all height,
Consummate heaven, the first and last,
Enfolding in its perfect prime
No future rushing to the past,
But one rapt Now, that knew not Space or Time.
Formless it was, being gold on gold,
And void--but with that complete Life
Where music could no wings unfold
Till lo, God smote the strings of strife!
"Myself unto Myself am Throne,
Myself unto Myself am Thrall
I that am All am all alone,"
He said, "Yea, I have nothing, having all."
And, gathering round His mount of bliss
The angel-squadrons of His will,
He said, "One battle yet there is
To win, one vision to fulfil!
Since heaven where'er I gaze expands,
And power that knows no strife or cry,
Weakness shall bind and pierce My hands
And make a world for Me wherein to die.
"All might, all vastness and all glory
Being Mine, I must descend and make
Out of My heart a song, a story
Of little hearts that burn and break;
Out of My passion without end
I will make little azure seas,
And into small sad fields descend
And make green grass, white daisies, rustling trees."
Then shrank His angels, knowing He thrust
His arms out East and West and gave
For every little dream of dust
Part of His life as to a grave!
"_Enough, O Father, for Thy words
Have pierced Thy hands!_" But, low and sweet,
He said "Sunsets and streams and birds,
And drifting clouds!"--The purple stained His feet.--
"Enough!" His angels moaned in fear,
"_Father, Thy words have pierced Thy side!_"
He whispered, "Roses shall grow there,
And there must be a hawthorn-tide,
And ferns, dewy at dawn," and still
They moaned--"_Enough, the red drops bleed!_"
"And," sweet and low, "on every hill,"
He said, "I will have flocks and lambs to lead."
His angels bowed their heads beneath
Their wings till that great pang was gone:
"_Pour not Thy soul out unto Death!_"
They moaned, and still His Love flowed on,
"There shall be small white wings to stray
From bliss to bliss, from bloom to bloom,
And blue flowers in the wheat;" and--"_Stay!
Speak not_," they cried, "_the word that seals Thy tomb!_"
He spake--"I have thought of a little child
That I will have there to embark
On small adventures in the wild,
And front slight perils in the dark;
And I will hide from him and lure
His laughing eyes with suns and moons,
And rainbows that shall not endure;
And--when he is weary, sing him drowsy tunes."
His angels fell before Him weeping
"_Enough! Tempt not the Gates of Hell!_"
He said, "His soul is in his keeping
That we may love each other well,
And lest the dark too much affright him,
I will strow countless little stars
Across his childish skies to light him
That he may wage in peace his mimic wars;
"And oft forget Me as he plays
With swords and childish merchandize,
Or with his elfin balance weighs,
Or with his foot-rule metes, the skies;
Or builds his castles by the deep,
Or tunnels through the rocks, and then--
Turn to Me as he falls asleep,
And, in his dreams, feel for My hand again.
"And when he is older he shall be
My friend and walk here at My side;
Or--when he wills--grow young with Me,
And, to that happy world where once we died
Descending through the calm blue weather,
Buy life once more with our immortal breath,
And wander through the little fields together,
And taste of Love and Death."
THE PEACEMAKER.
Silently over his vast imperial seas,
Over his sentinel fleets the Shadow swept
And all his armies slept.
There was but one quick challenge at the gate,
Then--the cold menace of that out-stretched hand,
Waving aside the panoplies of State,
Brought the last faithful watchers to their knees,
And lightning flashed the grief from land to land.
Mourn, Britain, mourn, not for a king alone!
This was the people's king! His purple throne
Was in their hearts. They shared it. Millions of swords
Could not have shaken it! Sharers of this doom,
This democratic doom which all men know,
His Common-weal, in this great common woe,
Veiling its head in the universal gloom,
With that majestic grief which knows not words,
Bows o'er a world-wide tomb.
Mourn, Europe, for our England set this Crown
In splendour past the reach of temporal power,
Secure above the thunders of the hour,
A sun in the great skies of her renown,
A sun to hold her wheeling worlds in one
By its own course of duty pre-ordained,
Where'er the meteors flash and fall, a sun
With its great course of duty!
So he reigned,
And died in its observance. Mightier he
Than any despot, in his people's love,
He served that law which rules the Thrones above,
That world-wide law which by the raging sea
Abased the flatterers of Canute and makes
The King that abnegates all lesser power
A rock in time of trouble, and a tower
Of strength where'er the tidal tempest breaks;
That world-wide law whose name is harmony,
Whose service perfect freedom!
And _his_ name
_The Peacemaker_, through all the future years
Shall burn, a glorious and prophetic flame,
A beaconing sun that never shall go down,
A sun to speed the world's diviner morrow,
A sun that shines the brighter for our sorrow;
For, O, what splendour in a monarch's crown
Vies with the splendour of his people's tears?
And now, O now, while the sorrowful trumpet is blown,
From island to continent, zone to imperial zone,
And the flags of the nations are lowered in grief with our own;
Now, while the roll of the drums that for battle were dumb
When he reigned, salute his passing; and low on the breeze
From the snow-bound North to the Australasian seas
Surges the solemn lament--O, shall it not come,
A glimpse of that mightier union of all mankind?
Now, though our eyes, as they gaze on the vision, grow blind,
Now, while the world is all one funeral knell,
And the mournful cannon thunder his great farewell,
Now, while the bells of a thousand cities toll,
Remember, O England, remember the ageless goal,
Rally the slumbering faith in the depths of thy soul,
Lift up thine eyes to the Kingdom for which he fought,
That Empire of Peace and Good-will, for which to his death-hour he wrought.
Then, then while the pomp of the world seems a little thing,
Ay, though by the world it be said,
_The King is dead!_
We shall lift up our hearts and answer--_Long live the King!_
THE SAILOR-KING
The fleet, the fleet puts out to sea
In a thunder of blinding foam to-night,
With a bursting wreck-strewn reef to lee,
But--a seaman fired yon beacon-light!
Seamen hailing a seaman, know--
Free-men crowning a free-man, sing--
The worth of that light where the great ships go,
The signal-fire of the king.
Cloud and wind may shift and veer:
This is steady and this is sure,
A signal over our hope and fear,
A pledge of the strength that shall endure--
Having no part in our storm-tossed strife--
A sign of union, which shall bring
Knowledge to men of their close-knit life,
The signal-fire of the king.
His friends are the old grey glorious waves,
The wide world round, the wide world round,
That have roared with our guns and covered our graves
From Nombre Dios to Plymouth Sound;
And his crown shall shine, a central sun
Round which the planet-nations sing,
Going their ways, but linked in one,
As the ships of our sailor-king.
Many the ships, but a single fleet;
Many the roads, but a single goal;
And a light, a light where all roads meet,
The beacon-fire of an Empire's soul;
The worth of that light his seamen know,
Through all the deaths that the storm can bring
The crown of their comrade-ship a-glow,
The signal-fire of the king.
THE FIDDLER'S FAREWELL
With my fiddle to my shoulder,
And my hair turning grey,
And my heart growing older
I must shuffle on my way!
Tho' there's not a hearth to greet me
I must reap as I sowed,
And--the sunset shall meet me
At the turn of the road.
O, the whin's a dusky yellow
And the road a rosy white,
And the blackbird's call is mellow
At the falling of night;
And there's honey in the heather
Where we'll make our last abode,
My tunes and me together
At the turn of the road.
I have fiddled for your city
Thro' market-place and inn!
I have poured forth my pity
On your sorrow and your sin!
But your riches are your burden,
And your pleasure is your goad!
I've the whin-gold for guerdon
At the turn of the road.
Your village-lights 'll call me
As the lights of home the dead;
But a black night befall me
Ere your pillows rest my head!
God be praised, tho' like a jewel
Every cottage casement showed,
There's a star that's not so cruel
At the turn of the road.
Nay, beautiful and kindly
Are the faces drawing nigh,
But I gaze on them blindly
And hasten, hasten by;
For O, no face of wonder
On earth has ever glowed
Like the One that waits me yonder
At the turn of the road.
Her face is lit with splendour,
She dwells beyond the skies;
But deep, deep and tender
Are the tears in her eyes:
The angels see them glistening
In pity for my load,
And--she's waiting there, she's listening,
At the turn of the road.
TO A PESSIMIST
Life like a cruel mistress woos
The passionate heart of man, you say,
Only in mockery to refuse
His love, at last, and turn away.
To me she seems a queen that knows
How great is love--but ah, how rare!--
And, pointing heavenward ere she goes,
Gives him the rose from out her hair.
MOUNT IDA
[This poem commemorates an event of some years ago, when a young
Englishman--still remembered by many of his contemporaries at
Oxford--went up into Mount Ida and was never seen again.]
I
Not cypress, but this warm pine-plumage now
Fragrant with sap, I pluck; nor bid you weep,
Ye Muses that still haunt the heavenly brow
Of Ida, though the ascent is hard and steep:
Weep not for him who left us wrapped in sleep
At dawn beneath the holy mountain's breast
And all alone from Ilion's gleaming shore
Clomb the high sea-ward glens, fain to drink deep
Of earth's old glory from your silent crest,
Take the cloud-conquering throne
Of gods, and gaze alone
Thro' heaven. Darkling we slept who saw his face no more.
II
Ah yet, in him hath Lycidas a brother,
And Adonais will not say him nay,
And Thyrsis to the breast of one sweet Mother
Welcomes him, climbing by the self-same way:
Quietly as a cloud at break of day
Up the long glens of golden dew he stole
(And surely Bion called to him afar!)
The tearful hyacinths and the greenwood spray
Clinging to keep him from the sapphire goal,
Kept of his path no trace!
Upward the yearning face
Clomb the ethereal height, calm as the morning star.
III
Ah yet, incline, dear Sisters, or my song
That with the light wings of the skimming swallow
Must range the reedy slopes, will work him wrong!
And with some golden shaft do thou, Apollo,
Show the pine-shadowed path that none may follow;
For, as the blue air shuts behind a bird,
Round him closed Ida's cloudy woods and rills!
Day-long, night-long, by echoing height and hollow,
We called him, but our tumult died unheard:
Down from the scornful sky
Our faint wing-broken cry
Fluttered and perished among the many-folded hills.
IV
Ay, though we clomb each faint-flushed peak of vision,
Nought but our own sad faces we divined:
Thy radiant way still laughed us to derision,
And still revengeful Echo proved unkind;
And oft our faithless hearts half feared to find
Thy cold corse in some dark mist-drenched ravine
Where the white foam flashed headlong to the sea:
How should we find thee, spirits deaf and blind
Even to the things which we had heard and seen?
Eyes that could see no more
The old light on sea and shore,
What should they hope or fear to find? They found not thee;
V
For thou wast ever alien to our skies,
A wistful stray of radiance on this earth,
A changeling with deep memories in thine eyes
Mistily gazing thro' our loud-voiced mirth
To some fair land beyond the gates of birth;
Yet as a star thro' clouds, thou still didst shed
Through our dark world thy lovelier, rarer glow;
Time, like a picture of but little worth,
Before thy young hand lifelessly outspread,
At one light stroke from thee
Gleamed with Eternity;
Thou gav'st the master's touch, and we--we did not know.
VI
Not though we gazed from heaven o'er Ilion
Dreaming on earth below, mistily crowned
With towering memories, and beyond her shone
The wine-dark seas Achilles heard resound!
Only, and after many days, we found
Dabbled with dew, at border of a wood
Bedded in hyacinths, open and a-glow
Thy Homer's Iliad.... Dryad tears had drowned
The rough Greek type and, as with honey or blood,
One crocus with crushed gold
Stained the great page that told
Of gods that sighed their loves on Ida, long ago.
VII
See--_for a couch to their ambrosial limbs
Even as their golden load of splendour presses
The fragrant thyme, a billowing cloud up-swims
Of springing flowers beneath their deep caresses,
Hyacinth, lotus, crocus, wildernesses
Of bloom_ ... but clouds of sunlight and of dew
Dropping rich balm, round the dark pine-woods curled
That the warm wonder of their in-woven tresses,
And all the secret blisses that they knew,
Where beauty kisses truth
In heaven's deep heart of youth,
Might still be hidden, as thou art, from the heartless world.
VIII
Even as we found thy book, below these rocks
Perchance that strange great eagle's feather lay,
When Ganymede, from feeding of his flocks
On Ida, vanished thro' the morning grey:
Stranger it seemed, if thou couldst cast away
Those golden musics as a thing of nought,
A dream for which no longer thou hadst need!
Ah, was it here then that the break of day
Brought thee the substance for the shadow, taught
Thy soul a swifter road
To ease it of its load
And watch this world of shadows as a dream recede?
IX
We slept! Darkling we slept! Our busy schemes,
Our cold mechanic world awhile was still;
But O, their eyes are blinded even in dreams
Who from the heavenlier Powers withdraw their will:
Here did the dawn with purer light fulfil
Thy happier eyes than ours, here didst thou see
The quivering wonder-light in flower and dew,
The quickening glory of the haunted hill,
The Hamadryad beckoning from the tree.
The Naiad from the stream;
While from her long dark dream
Earth woke, trembling with life, light, beauty, through and through.
X
And the everlasting miracle of things
Flowed round thee, and this dark earth opposed no bar,
And radiant faces from the flowers and springs
Dawned on thee, whispering, _Knowest thou whence_ we _are_?
Faintly thou heardst us calling thee afar
As Hylas heard, swooning beneath the wave,
Girdled with glowing arms, while wood and glen
Echoed his name beneath that rosy star;
And thy farewell came faint as from the grave
For very bliss; but we
Could neither hear nor see;
And all the hill with _Hylas! Hylas!_ rang again.
XI
But there were deeper love-tales for thine ears
Than mellow-tongued Theocritus could tell:
Over him like a sea two thousand years
Had swept. They solemnized his music well!
Farewell! What word could answer but farewell,
From thee, O happy spirit, that couldst steal
So quietly from this world at break of day?
What voice of ours could break the silent spell
Beauty had cast upon thee, or reveal
The gates of sun and dew
Which oped and let thee through
And led thee heavenward by that deep enchanted way?
XII
Yet here thou mad'st thy choice: Love, Wisdom, Power,
As once before young Paris, they stood here!
Beneath them Ida, like one full-blown flower,
Shed her bloom earthward thro' the radiant air
Leaving her rounded fruit, their beauty, bare
To the everlasting dawn; and, in thy palm
The golden apple of the Hesperian isle
Which thou must only yield to the Most Fair;
But not to Juno's great luxurious calm,
Nor Dian's curved white moon,
Gav'st thou the sunset's boon,
Nor to foam-bosomed Aphrodite's rose-lipped smile.
XIII
Here didst thou make the eternal choice aright,
Here, in this hallowed haunt of nymph and faun,
They stood before thee in that great new light,
The three great splendours of the immortal dawn,
With all the cloudy veils of Time withdrawn
Or only glistening round the firm white snows
Of their pure beauty like the golden dew
Brushed from the feathery ferns below the lawn;
But not to cold Diana's morning rose,
Nor to great Juno's frown
Cast thou the apple down,
And, when the Paphian raised her lustrous eyes anew,
XIV
Thou from thy soul didst whisper--_in that heaven
Which yearns beyond us! Lead me up the height!
How should the golden fruit to one be given
Till your three splendours in that Sun unite
Where each in each ye move like light in light?
How should I judge the rapture till I know
The pain?_ And like three waves of music there
They closed thee round, blinding thy blissful sight
With beauty and, like one roseate orb a-glow,
They bore thee on their breasts
Up the sun-smitten crests
And melted with thee smiling into the Most Fair.
XV
Upward and onward, ever as ye went
The cities of the world nestled beneath
Closer, as if in love, round Ida, blent
With alien hills in one great bridal-wreath
Of dawn-flushed clouds; while, breathing with your breath
New heavens mixed with your mounting bliss. Deep eyes,
Beautiful eyes, imbrued with the world's tears
Dawned on you, beautiful gleams of Love and Death
Flowed thro' your questioning with divine replies
From that ineffable height
Dark with excess of light
Where the Ever-living dies and the All-loving hears.
XVI
For thou hadst seen what tears upon man's face
Bled from the heart or burned from out the brain,
And not denied or cursed, but couldst embrace
Infinite sweetness in the heart of pain,
And heardst those universal choirs again
Wherein like waves of one harmonious sea
All our slight dreams of heaven are singing still,
And still the throned Olympians swell the strain,
And, hark, the burden, of all--_Come unto Me!_
Sky into deepening sky
Melts with that one great cry;
And the lost doves of Ida moan on Siloa's hill.
XVII
I gather all the ages in my song
And send them singing up the heights to thee!
Chord by aeonian chord the stars prolong
Their passionate echoes to Eternity:
Earth wakes, and one orchestral symphony
Sweeps o'er the quivering harp-strings of mankind;
Grief modulates into heaven, hate drowns in love,
No strife now but of love in that great sea
Of song! I dream! I dream! Mine eyes grow blind:
Chords that I not command
Escape the fainting hand;
Tears fall. Thou canst not hear. Thou'rt still too far above.
XVIII
Farewell! What word should answer but farewell
From thee, O happy spirit, whose clear gaze
Discerned the path--clear, but unsearchable--
Where Olivet sweetens, deepens, Ida's praise,
The path that strikes as thro' a sunlit haze
Through Time to that clear reconciling height
Where our commingling gleams of godhead dwell;
Strikes thro' the turmoil of our darkling days
To that great harmony where, like light in light,
Wisdom and Beauty still
Haunt the thrice-holy hill,
And Love, immortal Love ... what answer but farewell?
THE ELECTRIC TRAM
I
Bluff and burly and splendid
Thro' roaring traffic-tides,
By secret lightnings attended
The land-ship hisses and glides.
And I sit on its bridge and I watch and I dream
While the world goes gallantly by,
With all its crowded houses and its colored shops a-stream
Under the June-blue sky,
Heigh, ho!
Under the June-blue sky.
II
There's a loafer at the kerb with a sulphur-coloured pile
Of "Lights! Lights! Lights!" to sell;
And a flower-girl there with some lilies and a smile
By the gilt swing-doors of a drinking hell,
Where the money is rattling loud and fast,
And I catch one glimpse as the ship swings past
Of a woman with a babe at her breast
Wrapped in a ragged shawl;
She is drinking away with the rest,
And the sun shines over it all,
Heigh, ho!
The sun shines over it all!
III
And a barrel-organ is playing,
Somewhere, far away,
_Abide with me_, and _The world is gone a-maying_,
And _What will the policeman say?_
There's a glimpse of the river down an alley by a church,
And the barges with their tawny-coloured sails,
And a grim and grimy coal-wharf where the London pigeons perch
And flutter and spread their tails,
Heigh, ho!
Flutter and spread their tails.
IV
O, what does it mean, all the pageant and the pity,
The waste and the wonder and the shame?
I am riding tow'rds the sunset thro' the vision of a City
Which we cloak with the stupor of a name!
I am riding thro' ten thousand thousand tragedies and terrors,
Ten million heavens that save and hells that damn;
And the lightning draws my car tow'rds the golden evening star;
And--They call it only "riding on a tram,"
Heigh, ho!
They call it only "riding on a tram."
SHERWOOD
PERSONS OF THE DRAMA
ROBIN Earl of Huntingdon, known as "Robin Hood."
LITTLE JOHN }
FRIAR TUCK }
WILL SCARLET } Outlaws and followers of "Robin Hood."
REYNOLD GREENLEAF }
MUCH, THE MILLER'S SON }
ALLAN-A-DALE }
PRINCE JOHN.
KING RICHARD, Coeur de Lion.
BLONDEL King Richard's minstrel.
OBERON King of the Fairies.
TITANIA Queen of the Fairies.
PUCK A Fairy.
THE SHERIFF OF NOTTINGHAM.
FITZWALTER Father of Marian, known as "Maid Marian."
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF A Fool.
ARTHUR PLANTAGENET Nephew to Prince John, a boy of about ten years of age.
QUEEN ELINOR Mother of Prince John and Richard Lion-Heart.
MARIAN FITZWALTER Known as Maid Marian, betrothed to Robin Hood.
JENNY Maid to Marian.
WIDOW SCARLET Mother of Will Scarlet.
PRIORESS OF KIRKLEE.
Fairies, merry men, serfs, peasants, mercenaries, an abbot, a baron, a
novice, nuns, courtiers, soldiers, retainers, etc.
ACT I
SCENE I. _Night. The borders of the forest. The smouldering embers of a
Saxon homestead. The SHERIFF and his men are struggling with a SERF._
SERF
No, no, not that! not that! If you should blind me
God will repay you. Kill me out of hand!
[_Enter PRINCE JOHN and several of his retainers._]
JOHN
Who is this night-jar?
[_The retainers laugh._]
Surely, master Sheriff,
You should have cut its tongue out, first. Its cries
Tingle so hideously across the wood
They'll wake the King in Palestine. Small wonder
That Robin Hood evades you.
SHERIFF
[_To the SERF._]
Silence, dog,
Know you not better than to make this clamour
Before Prince John?
SERF
Prince John! It is Prince John!
For God's love save me, sir!
JOHN
Whose thrall is he?
SHERIFF
I know not, sir, but he was caught red-handed
Killing the king's deer. By the forest law
He should of rights be blinded; for, as you see,
[_He indicates the SERF'S right hand._]
'Tis not his first deer at King Richard's cost.
JOHN
'Twill save you trouble if you say at mine.
SHERIFF
Ay, sir, I pray your pardon--at _your_ cost!
His right hand lacks the thumb and arrow-finger,
And though he vows it was a falling tree
That crushed them, you may trust your Sheriff, sir,
It was the law that clipped them when he last
Hunted your deer.
SERF
Prince, when the Conqueror came,
They burned my father's homestead with the rest
To make the King a broader hunting-ground.
I have hunted there for food. How could I bear
To hear my hungry children crying? Prince,
They'll make good bowmen for your wars, one day.
JOHN
He is much too fond of 'Prince': he'll never live
To see a king. Whose thrall?--his iron collar,
Look, is the name not on it?
SHERIFF
Sir, the name
Is filed away, and in another hour
The ring would have been broken. He is one of those
Green adders of the moon, night-creeping thieves
Whom Huntingdon has tempted to the woods.
These desperate ruffians flee their lawful masters
And flock around the disaffected Earl
Like ragged rooks around an elm, by scores!
And now, i' faith, the sun of Huntingdon
Is setting fast. They've well nigh beggared him,
Eaten him out of house and home. They say
That, when we make him outlaw, we shall find
Nought to distrain upon, but empty cupboards.
JOHN
Did you not serve him once yourself?
SHERIFF
Oh, ay,
He was more prosperous then. But now my cupboards
Are full, and his are bare. Well, I'd think scorn
To share a crust with outcast churls and thieves,
Doffing his dignity, letting them call him
Robin, or Robin Hood, as if an Earl
Were just a plain man, which he will be soon,
When we have served our writ of outlawry!
'Tis said he hopes much from the King's return
And swears by Lion-Heart; and though King Richard
Is brother to yourself, 'tis all the more
Ungracious, sir, to hope he should return,
And overset your rule. But then--to keep
Such base communications! Myself would think it
Unworthy of my sheriffship, much more
Unworthy a right Earl.
JOHN
You talk too much!
This whippet, here, slinks at his heel, you say.
Mercy may close her eyes, then. Take him off,
Blind him or what you will; and let him thank
His master for it. But wait--perhaps he knows
Where we may trap this young patrician thief.
Where is your master?
SERF
Where you'll never find him.
JOHN
Oh, ho! the dog is faithful! Take him away.
Get your red business done, I shall require
Your men to ride with me.
SHERIFF
[_To his men._]
Take him out yonder,
A bow-shot into the wood, so that his clamour
Do not offend my lord. Delay no time,
The irons are hot by this. They'll give you light
Enough to blind him by.
SERF
[_Crying out and struggling as he is forced back into the forest._]
No, no, not that!
God will repay you! Kill me out of hand!
SHERIFF
[_To PRINCE JOHN._]
There is a kind of justice in all this.
The irons being heated in that fire, my lord,
Which was his hut, aforetime.
[_Some of the men take the glowing irons from the fire and follow
into the wood._]
There's no need
To parley with him, either. The snares are laid
For Robin Hood. He goes this very night
To his betrothal feast.
JOHN
Betrothal feast!
SHERIFF
At old Fitzwalter's castle, sir.
JOHN
Ha! ha!
There will be one more guest there than he thought!
Ourselves are riding thither. We intended
My Lady Marian for a happier fate
Than bride to Robin Hood. Your plans are laid
To capture him?
SHERIFF
[_Consequentially._]
It was our purpose, sir,
To serve the writ of outlawry upon him
And capture him as he came forth.
JOHN
That's well.
Then--let him disappear--you understand?
SHERIFF
I have your warrant, sir? Death? A great Earl?
JOHN
Why, first declare him outlawed at his feast!
'Twill gladden the tremulous heart of old Fitzwalter
With his prospective son-in-law; and then--
No man will overmuch concern himself
Whither an outlaw goes. You understand?
SHERIFF
It shall be done, sir.
JOHN
But the Lady Marian!
By heaven, I'll take her. I'll banish old Fitzwalter
If he prevent my will in this. You'll bring
How many men to ring the castle round?
SHERIFF
A good five score of bowmen.
JOHN
Then I'll take her
This very night as hostage for Fitzwalter,
Since he consorts with outlaws. These grey rats
Will gnaw my kingdom's heart out. For 'tis mine,
This England, now or later. They that hold
By Richard, as their absent king, would make
My rule a usurpation. God, am I
My brother's keeper?
[_There is a cry in the forest from the SERF, who immediately
afterwards appears at the edge of the glade, shaking
himself free from his guards. He seizes a weapon
and rushes at PRINCE JOHN. One of the retainers runs
him through and he falls at the PRINCE'S feet._]
JOHN
That's a happy answer!
SHERIFF
[_Stooping over the body._]
He is dead.
JOHN
I am sorry. It were better sport
To send him groping like a hoodman blind
Through Sherwood, whimpering for his Robin. Come,
I'll ride with you to this betrothal feast.
Now for my Lady Marian!
[_Exeunt all. A pause. The scene darkens. Shadowy figures creep
out from the thickets, of old men, women and children._]
FIRST OLD MAN
[_Stretching his arms up to Heaven._]
God, am I
My brother's keeper? Witness, God in heaven,
He said it and not we--Cain's word, he said it!
FIRST WOMAN
[_Kneeling by the body._]
O Father, Father, and the blood of Abel
Cries to thee!
A BLIND MAN
Is there any light here still?
I feel a hot breath on my face. The dark
Is better for us all. I am sometimes glad
They blinded me those many years ago.
Princes are princes; and God made the world
For one or two it seems. Well, I am glad
I cannot see His world.
FIRST WOMAN
[_Still by the body and whispering to the others._]
Keep him away.
'Tis as we thought. The dead man is his son.
Keep him away, poor soul. He need not know.
[_Some of the men carry the body among the thickets._]
A CHILD
Mother, I'm hungry, I'm hungry!
FIRST OLD MAN
There's no food
For any of us to-night. The snares are empty,
And I can try no more.
THE BLIND MAN
Wait till my son
Comes back. He's a rare hunter is my boy.
You need not fret, poor little one. My son
Is much too quick and clever for the Sheriff.
He'll bring you something good. Why, ha! ha! ha!
Friends, I've a thought--the Sheriff's lit the fire
Ready for us to roast our meat. Come, come,
Let us be merry while we may! My boy
Will soon come back with food for the old folks.
The fire burns brightly, eh?
SECOND OLD MAN
The fire that feeds
On hope and eats our hearts away. They've burnt
Everything, everything!
THE BLIND MAN
Ah, princes are princes!
But when the King comes home from the Crusade,
We shall have better times.
FIRST OLD MAN
Ay, when the King
Comes home from the Crusade.
CHILD
Mother, I'm hungry.
SECOND WOMAN
Oh, but if I could only find a crust
Left by the dogs. Masters, the child will starve.
We must have food.
THE BLIND MAN
I tell you when my boy
Comes back, we shall have plenty!
FIRST WOMAN
God pity thee!
THE BLIND MAN
What dost thou mean?
SECOND WOMAN
Masters, the child will starve.
FIRST OLD MAN
Hist, who comes here--a forester?
THE BLIND MAN
We'd best
Slip back into the dark.
FIRST WOMAN
[_Excitedly._]
No, stay! All's well.
There's Shadow-of-a-Leaf, good Lady Marian's fool
Beside him!
THE BLIND MAN
Ah, they say there's fairy blood
In Shadow-of-a-Leaf. But I've no hopes of more
From him, than wild bees' honey-bags.
[_Enter LITTLE JOHN, a giant figure, leading a donkey, laden
with a sack. On the other side, SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
trips, a slender figure in green trunk-hose and doublet.
He is tickling the donkey's ears with a long fern._]
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Gee! Whoa!
Neddy, my boy, have you forgot the Weaver,
And how Titania tickled your long ears?
Ha! ha! Don't ferns remind you?
LITTLE JOHN
Friends, my master
Hath sent me to you, fearing ye might hunger.
FIRST OLD MAN
Thy master?
LITTLE JOHN
Robin Hood.
SECOND WOMAN
[_Falling on her knees._]
God bless his name.
God bless the kindly name of Robin Hood.
LITTLE JOHN
[_Giving them food._]
'Tis well nigh all that's left him; and to-night
He goes to his betrothal feast.
[_All the outcasts except the first old man exeunt._]
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
[_Pointing to the donkey._]
Now look,
There's nothing but that shadow of a cross
On his grey back to tell you of the palms
That once were strewn before my Lord, the King.
Won't ferns, won't branching ferns, do just as well?
There's only a dream to ride my donkey now!
But, Neddy, I'll lead you home and cry--HOSANNA!
We'll thread the glad Gate Beautiful again,
Though now there's only a Fool to hold your bridle
And only moonlit ferns to strew your path,
And the great King is fighting for a grave
In lands beyond the sea. Come, Neddy, come,
Hosanna!
[_Exit SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF with the donkey. He strews ferns
before it as he goes._]
FIRST OLD MAN
'Tis a strange creature, master! Thinkest
There's fairy blood in him?
LITTLE JOHN
'Twas he that brought
Word of your plight to Robin Hood. He flits
Like Moonshine thro' the forest. He'll be home
Before I know it. I must be hastening back.
This makes a sad betrothal night.
FIRST OLD MAN
That minds me,
Couched in the thicket yonder, we overheard
The Sheriff tell Prince John....
LITTLE JOHN
Prince John!
FIRST OLD MAN
You'd best
Warn Robin Hood. They're laying a trap for him.
Ay! Now I mind me of it! I heard 'em say
They'd take him at the castle.
LITTLE JOHN
To-night?
FIRST OLD MAN
To-night!
Fly, lad, for God's dear love. Warn Robin Hood!
Fly like the wind, or you'll be there too late.
And yet you'd best be careful. There's five score
In ambush round the castle.
LITTLE JOHN
I'll be there
An if I have to break five hundred heads!
[_He rushes off thro' the forest. The old man goes into the thicket
after the others. The scene darkens. A soft light, as
of the moon, appears between the ferns to the right of the
glade, showing OBERON and TITANIA._]
TITANIA
Yet one night more the gates of fairyland
Are opened by a mortal's kindly deed.
OBERON
Last night the gates were shut, and I heard weeping!
Men, women, children, beat upon the gates
That guard our happy world. They could not sleep.
Titania, must not that be terrible,
When mortals cannot sleep?
TITANIA
Yet one night more
Dear Robin Hood has opened the gates wide
And their poor weary souls can enter in.
OBERON
Yet one night more we woodland elves may steal
Out thro' the gates. I fear the time will come
When they must close for ever; and we no more
Shall hold our Sherwood revels.
TITANIA
Only love
And love's kind sacrifice can open them.
For when a mortal hurts himself to help
Another, then he thrusts the gates wide open
Between his world and ours.
OBERON
Ay, but that's rare,
That kind of love, Titania, for the gates
Are almost always closed.
TITANIA
Yet one night more!
Hark, how the fairy host begins to sing
Within the gates. Wait here and we shall see
What weary souls by grace of Robin Hood
This night shall enter Dreamland. See, they come!
[_The soft light deepens in the hollow among the ferns and the ivory
gates of Dreamland are seen swinging open. The fairy
host is heard, singing to invite the mortals to enter._]
[_Song of the fairies._]
The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer!
The Forest shall conquer!
Your world is growing old;
But a Princess sleeps in the greenwood,
Whose hair is brighter than gold.
The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer!
The Forest shall conquer!
O hearts that bleed and burn,
Her lips are redder than roses,
Who sleeps in the faery fern.
The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer!
The Forest shall conquer!
By the Beauty that wakes anew
Milk-white with the fragrant hawthorn
In the drip of the dawn-red dew.
The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer!
The Forest shall conquer!
O hearts that are weary of pain,
Come back to your home in Faerie
And wait till she wakes again.
[_The victims of the forest-laws steal out of the thicket once
more--dark, distorted, lame, blind, serfs with iron collars
round their necks, old men, women and children; and as the fairy
song breaks into chorus they pass in procession thro' the
beautiful gates. The gates slowly close. The fairy song is heard
as dying away in the distance._]
TITANIA
[_Coming out into the glade and holding up her hands to the evening
star beyond the tree-tops._]
Shine, shine, dear star of Love, yet one night more.
SCENE II. _A banqueting hall in FITZWALTER'S castle. The guests are
assembling for the betrothal feast of ROBIN and MARIAN. Some of ROBIN
HOOD'S men, clad in Lincoln green, are just arriving at the doors.
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF runs forward to greet them._
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Come in, my scraps of Lincoln green; come in,
My slips of greenwood. You're much wanted here!
Head, heart and eyes, we are all pent up in walls
Of stone--nothing but walls on every side--
And not a rose to break them--big blind walls,
Neat smooth stone walls! Come in, my ragged robins;
Come in, my jolly minions of the moon,
My straggling hazel-boughs! Hey, bully friar,
Come in, my knotted oak! Ho, little Much,
Come in, my sweet green linnet. Come, my cushats,
Larks, yellow-hammers, fern-owls, Oh, come in,
Come in, my Dian's foresters, and drown us
With may, with blossoming may!
FITZWALTER
Out, Shadow-of-a-Leaf!
Welcome, welcome, good friends of Huntingdon,
Or Robin Hood, by whatsoever name
You best may love him.
CRIES
Robin! Robin! Robin!
[_Enter ROBIN HOOD._]
FITZWALTER
Robin, so be it! Myself I am right glad
To call him at this bright betrothal feast
My son.
[_Lays a hand on ROBIN'S shoulder._]
Yet, though I would not cast a cloud
Across our happy gathering, you'll forgive
An old man and a father if he sees
All your glad faces thro' a summer mist
Of sadness.
ROBIN
Sadness? Yes, I understand.
FITZWALTER
No, Robin, no, you cannot understand.
ROBIN
Where's Marian?
FITZWALTER
Ay, that's all you think of, boy.
But I must say a word to all of you
Before she comes.
ROBIN
Why--what?...
FITZWALTER
No need to look
So startled; but it is no secret here;
For many of you are sharers of his wild
Adventures. Now I hoped an end had come
To these, until another rumour reached me,
This very day, of yet another prank.
You know, you know, how perilous a road
My Marian must ride if Huntingdon
Tramples the forest-laws beneath his heel
And, in the thin disguise of Robin Hood,
Succours the Saxon outlaws, makes his house
A refuge for them, lavishes his wealth
To feed their sick and needy.
[_The SHERIFF and two of his men appear in the great doorway
out of sight of the guests._]
SHERIFF
[_Whispering._]
Not yet! keep back!
One of you go--see that the guards are set!
He must not slip us.
FITZWALTER
Oh, I know his heart
Is gold, but this is not an age of gold;
And those who have must keep, or lose the power
Even to help themselves. No--he must doff
His green disguise of Robin Hood for ever,
And wear his natural coat of Huntingdon.
ROBIN
Ah, which is the disguise? Day after day
We rise and put our social armour on,
A different mask for every friend; but steel
Always to case our hearts. We are all so wrapped,
So swathed, so muffled in habitual thought
That now I swear we do not know our souls
Or bodies from their winding-sheets; but Custom,
Custom, the great god Custom, all day long
Shovels the dirt upon us where we lie
Buried alive and dreaming that we stand
Upright and royal. Sir, I have great doubts
About this world, doubts if we have the right
To sit down here for this betrothal feast
And gorge ourselves with plenty, when we know
That for the scraps and crumbs which we let fall
And never miss, children would kiss our hands
And women weep in gratitude. Suppose
A man fell wounded at your gates, you'd not
Pass on and smile and leave him there to die.
And can a few short miles of distance blind you?
Miles, nay, a furlong is enough to close
The gates of mercy. Must we thrust our hands
Into the wounds before we can believe?
Oh, is our sight so thick and gross? We came,
We saw, we conquered with the Conqueror.
We gave ourselves broad lands; and when our king
Desired a wider hunting ground we set
Hundreds of Saxon homes a-blaze and tossed
Women and children back into the fire
If they but wrung their hands against our will.
And so we made our forest, and its leaves
Were pitiful, more pitiful than man.
They gave our homeless victims the same refuge
And happy hiding place they give the birds
And foxes. Then we made our forest-laws,
And he that dared to hunt, even for food,
Even on the ground where we had burned his hut,
The ground we had drenched with his own kindred's blood,
Poor foolish churl, why, we put out his eyes
With red-hot irons, cut off both his hands,
Torture him with such horrors that ... Christ God,
How can I help but fight against it all?
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Ah, gossips, if the Conqueror had but burned
Everything with four walls, hut, castle, palace,
And turned the whole wide world into a forest,
Drenched us with may, we might be happy then!
With sweet blue wood-smoke curling thro' the boughs,
And just a pigeon's flap to break the silence,
And ferns, of course, there's much to make men happy.
Well, well, the forest conquers at the last!
I saw a thistle in the castle courtyard,
A purple thistle breaking thro' the pavement,
Yesterday; and it's wonderful how soon
Some creepers pick these old grey walls to pieces.
These nunneries and these monasteries now,
They don't spring up like flowers, so I suppose
Old mother Nature wins the race at last.
FITZWALTER
Robin, my heart is with you, but I know
A hundred ages will not change this earth.
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
[_With a candle in his hand._]
Gossip, suppose the sun goes out like this.
Pouf!
[_Blows it out._]
Stranger things have happened.
FITZWALTER
Silence, fool!...
So, if you share your wealth with all the world
Earth will be none the better, and my poor girl
Will suffer for it. Where you got the gold
You have already lavished on the poor
Heaven knows.
FRIAR TUCK
Oh, by the mass and the sweet moon
Of Sherwood, so do I? That's none so hard
A riddle!
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Ah, Friar Tuck, we know, we know!
Under the hawthorn bough, and at the foot
Of rainbows, that's where fairies hide their gold.
Cut me a silver penny out of the moon
Next time you're there.
[_Whispers._]
Now tell me, have you brought
Your quarter-staff?
FRIAR TUCK
[_Whispering._]
Hush! hush.
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Oh, mum's the word!
I see it!
FITZWALTER
Believe me, Robin, there's one way
And only one--patience! When Lion-Heart
Comes home from the Crusade, he will not brook
This blot upon our chivalry. Prince John
Is dangerous to a heart like yours. Beware
Of rousing him. Meanwhile, your troth holds good;
But, till the King comes home from the Crusade
You must not claim your bride.
ROBIN
So be it, then....
When the great King comes home from the Crusade!...
FITZWALTER
Meanwhile for Marian's sake and mine, I pray
Do nothing rash.
[_Enter WIDOW SCARLET. She goes up to ROBIN HOOD._]
WIDOW SCARLET
Are you that Robin Hood
They call the poor man's friend?
ROBIN
I am.
WIDOW SCARLET
They told me,
They told me I should find you here. They told me!
ROBIN
Come, mother, what's the trouble?
WIDOW SCARLET
Sir, my son
Will Scarlet lies in gaol at Nottingham
For killing deer in Sherwood! Sir, they'll hang him.
He only wanted food for him and me!
They'll kill him, I tell you, they'll kill him. I can't help
Crying it out. He's all I have, all! Save him!
I'll pray for you, I'll ...
ROBIN
[_To FITZWALTER, as he raises WIDOW SCARLET gently to her
feet._]
Sir, has not the King
Come home from the Crusade? Does not your heart
Fling open wide its gates to welcome him?
FITZWALTER
Robin, you set me riddles. Follow your conscience.
Do what seems best.
ROBIN
I hope there is a way,
Mother. I knew Will Scarlet. Better heart
There never beat beneath a leather jerkin.
He loved the forest and the forest loves him;
And if the lads that wear the forest's livery
Of living green should happen to break out
And save Will Scarlet (as on my soul I swear,
Mother, they shall!) why, that's a matter none
Shall answer for to prince, or king, or God,
But you and Robin Hood; and if the judgment
Strike harder upon us than the heavenly smile
Of sunshine thro' the greenwood, may it fall
Upon my head alone.
[_Enter the SHERIFF, with two of his men._]
SHERIFF
[_Reads._]
In the King's name!
Thou, Earl of Huntingdon, by virtue of this writ art hereby
attainted and deprived of thine earldom, thy lands and all thy
goods and chattels whatsoever and whereas thou hast at divers
times trespassed against the officers of the king by force of
arms, thou art hereby outlawed and banished the realm.
ROBIN
That's well.
[_He laughs._]
It puts an end to the great question
Of how I shall dispose my wealth, Fitzwalter.
But "banished"?--No! that is beyond their power
While I have power to breathe, unless they banish
The kind old oaks of Sherwood. They may call it
"Outlawed," perhaps.
FITZWALTER
Who let the villain in
Thro' doors of mine?
CRIES
Out with him! Out with him!
[_The guests draw swords and the SHERIFF retreats thro' the doorway
with his men._]
ROBIN
Stop!
Put up your swords! He had his work to do.
[_WIDOW SCARLET falls sobbing at his feet._]
WIDOW SCARLET
O master, master, who will save my son,
My son?
ROBIN
[_Raising her._]
Why, mother, this is but a dream,
This poor fantastic strutting show of law!
And you shall wake with us in Sherwood Forest
And find Will Scarlet in your arms again.
Come, cheerly, cheerly, we shall overcome
All this. Hark!
[_A bugle sounds in the distance. There is a scuffle in the doorway
and LITTLE JOHN bursts in with his head bleeding._]
LITTLE JOHN
Master, master, come away!
They are setting a trap for thee, drawing their lines
All round the castle.
ROBIN
How now, Little John,
They have wounded thee! Art hurt?
LITTLE JOHN
No, no, that's nothing.
Only a bloody cockscomb. Come, be swift,
Or, if thou wert a fox, thou'dst never slip
Between 'em. Ah, hear that?
[_Another bugle sounds from another direction._]
That's number two.
Two sides cut off already. When the third
Sounds--they will have thee, sure as eggs is eggs.
Prince John is there, Fitzwalter cannot save 'ee.
They'll burn the castle down.
ROBIN
Prince John is there?
LITTLE JOHN
Ay, and my lord Fitzwalter had best look
Well to my mistress Marian, if these ears
Heard right as I came creeping thro' their lines.
Look well to her, my lord, look well to her.
Come, master, come, for God's sake, come away.
FITZWALTER
Robin, this is thy rashness. I warned thee, boy!
Prince John! Nay, that's too perilous a jest
For even a prince to play with me. Come, Robin,
You must away and quickly.
ROBIN
Let me have
One word with Marian.
LITTLE JOHN
It would be the last
On earth. Come, if you ever wish to see
Her face again.
FITZWALTER
Come, Robin, are you mad?
You'll bring us all to ruin!
[_He opens a little door in the wall._]
The secret passage,
This brings you out by Much the Miller's wheel,
Thro' an otter's burrow in the river bank.
Come, quick, or you'll destroy us! Take this lanthorn.
If you're in danger, slip into the stream
And let it carry you down into the heart
Of Sherwood. Come now, quickly, you must go!
ROBIN
The old cave, lads, in Sherwood, you know where
To find me. Friar Tuck, bring Widow Scarlet
Thither to-morrow, with a word or two
From Lady Marian!
FITZWALTER
Quickly, quickly, go.
[_He pushes ROBIN and LITTLE JOHN into the opening and shuts
the door. A pause._]
Oh, I shall pay for this, this cursed folly!
Henceforth I swear I wash my hands of him!
[_Enter MARIAN, from a door on the right above the banqueting
hall. She pauses, pale and frightened, on the broad
steps leading down._]
MARIAN
Father, where's Robin?
FITZWALTER
Child, I bade you stay
Until I called you.
MARIAN
Something frightened me!
Father, where's Robin? Where's Robin?
FITZWALTER
Hush, Marian, hark!
[_All stand listening._]
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
[_Stealing to the foot of the stairs and whispering to LADY MARIAN._]
Lady, they're all so silent now. I'll tell you
I had a dream last night--there was a man
That bled to death, because of four grey walls
And a black-hooded nun.
FITZWALTER
[_Angrily._]
Hist, Shadow-of-a-Leaf!
[_The third bugle sounds. There is a clamour at the doors.
Enter PRINCE JOHN and his retainers._]
JOHN
[_Mockingly._]
Now this is fortunate! I come in time
To see--Oh, what a picture! Lady Marian,
Forgive me--coming suddenly out of the dark
And seeing you there, robed in that dazzling white
Above these verdant gentlemen, I feel
Like one that greets the gracious evening star
Thro' a gap in a great wood.
Is aught amiss?
Why are you all so silent? Ah, my good,
My brave Fitzwalter, I most fervently
Trust I am not inopportune.
FITZWALTER
My lord,
I am glad that you can jest. I am sadly grieved
And sorely disappointed in that youth
Who has incurred your own displeasure.
JOHN
Ah?
Your future son-in-law?
FITZWALTER
Never on earth!
He is outlawed--
MARIAN
Outlawed!
FITZWALTER
And I wash my hands
Of Huntingdon. His shadow shall not darken
My doors again!
JOHN
That's vehement! Ha! ha!
And what does Lady Marian say?
MARIAN
My father
Speaks hastily. I am not so unworthy.
FITZWALTER
Unworthy?
MARIAN
Yes, unworthy as to desert him
Because he is in trouble--the bravest man
In England since the days of Hereward.
You know why he is outlawed!
FITZWALTER
[_To PRINCE JOHN._]
Sir, she speaks
As the spoilt child of her old father's dotage.
Give her no heed. She shall not meet with him
On earth again, and till she promise this,
She'll sun herself within the castle garden
And never cross the draw-bridge.
MARIAN
Then I'll swim
The moat!
FRIAR TUCK
Ha! ha! well spoken.
MARIAN
Oh, you forget,
Father, you quite forget there is a King;
And, when the King comes home from the Crusade,
Will you forget Prince John and change once more?
[_Murmurs of assent from the FORESTERS._]
JOHN
Enough of this.
Though I be prince, I am vice-gerent too!
Fitzwalter, I would have some private talk
With you and Lady Marian. Bid your guests
Remove a little--
FITZWALTER
I'll lead them all within!
And let them make what cheer they may. Come, friends.
[_He leads them up the stairs to the inner room._]
My lord, I shall return immediately!
[_Exeunt FITZWALTER and the guests._]
JOHN
Marian!
MARIAN
My lord!
JOHN
[_Drawing close to her._]
I have come to urge a plea
On your behalf as well as on my own!
Listen, you may not know it--I must tell you.
I have watched your beauty growing like a flower,
With--why should I not say it--worship; yes,
Marian, I will not hide it.
MARIAN
Sir, you are mad!
Sir, and your bride, your bride, not three months wedded!
You cannot mean ...
JOHN
Listen to me! Ah, Marian,
You'd be more merciful if you knew all!
D'you think that princes wed to please themselves?
MARIAN
Sir, English maidens do; and I am plighted
Not to a prince, but to an outlawed man.
JOHN
Listen to me! One word! Marian, one word!
I never meant you harm! Indeed, what harm
Could come of this? Is not your father poor?
I'd make him rich! Is not your lover outlawed?
I'd save him from the certain death that waits him.
You say the forest-laws afflict your soul
And his--you say you'd die for their repeal!
Well--I'll repeal them. All the churls in England
Shall bless your name and mix it in their prayers
With heaven itself.
MARIAN
The price?
JOHN
You call it that!
To let me lay the world before your feet,
To let me take this little hand in mine.
Why should I hide my love from you?
MARIAN
No more,
I'll hear no more! You are a prince, you say?
JOHN
One word--suppose it some small sacrifice,
To save those churls for whom you say your heart
Bleeds; yet you will not lift your little finger
To save them! And what hinders you?--A breath,
A dream, a golden rule! Can you not break it
For a much greater end?
MARIAN
I'd die to save them.
JOHN
Then live to save them.
MARIAN
No, you will not let me;
D'you think that bartering my soul will help
To save another? If there's no way but this,
Then through my lips those suffering hundreds cry,
We choose the suffering. All that is good in them,
All you have left, all you have not destroyed,
Cries out against you: and I'll go to them,
Suffer and toil and love and die with them
Rather than touch your hand. You over-rate
Your power to hurt our souls. You are mistaken!
There is a golden rule!
JOHN
And with such lips
You take to preaching! I was a fool to worry
Your soul with reason. With hair like yours--it's hopeless!
But Marian--you shall hear me.
[_He catches her in his arms._]
Yes, by God,
Marian, you shall! I love you.
MARIAN
[_Struggling._]
You should not live!
JOHN
One kiss, then! Devil take it.
[_Enter FITZWALTER above._]
MARIAN
[_Wresting herself free._]
You should not live!
Were I a man and not a helpless girl
You should not live!
JOHN
Come, now, that's very wicked.
See how these murderous words affright your father.
My good Fitzwalter, there's no need to look
So ghastly. For your sake and hers and mine
I have been trying to make your girl forget
The name of Huntingdon. A few short months
At our gay court would blot his memory out!
I promise her a life of dazzling pleasures,
And, in return she flies at me--a tigress--
Clamouring for my blood! Try to persuade her!
FITZWALTER
My lord, you are very good. She must decide
Herself.
JOHN
[_Angrily._]
I'll not be trifled with! I hold
The hand of friendship out and you evade it,
The moment I am gone, back comes your outlaw.
You say you have no power with your own child!
Well, then I'll take her back this very night;
Back to the court with me. How do I know
What treasons you are hatching here? I'll take her
As hostage for yourself.
FITZWALTER
My lord, you jest!
I have sworn to you.
JOHN
No more! If you be loyal,
What cause have you to fear?
FITZWALTER
My lord, I'll give
A hundred other pledges; but not this.
JOHN
By heaven, will you dictate your terms to me?
I say that she shall come back to the court
This very night! Ho, there, my men.
[_Enter JOHN'S retainers._]
Escort
This lady back with us.
FITZWALTER
Back there, keep back. Prince or no prince,
I say she shall not go!
[_He draws his sword._]
I'd rather see her
Begging in rags with outlawed Huntingdon
Than that one finger of yours should soil her glove.
JOHN
So here's an end of fawning, here's the truth,
My old white-bearded hypocrite. Come, take her,
Waste no more time. Let not the old fool daunt you
With that great skewer.
FITZWALTER
[_As JOHN'S men advance._]
By God, since you will have it,
Since you will drive me to my last resort,
Break down my walls, and hound me to the forest,
This is the truth! Out of my gates! Ho, help!
A Robin Hood! A Robin Hood!
[_There is a clamour from the upper room. The doors are flung
open and the FORESTERS appear at the head of the steps._]
FRIAR TUCK
[_Coming down into the hall and brandishing his quarter-staff._]
A Robin?
Who calls on Robin Hood? His men are here
To answer.
FITZWALTER
Drive these villains out of my gates.
FRIAR TUCK
[_To PRINCE JOHN._]
Sir, I perceive you are a man of wisdom,
So let me counsel you. There's not a lad
Up yonder, but at four-score yards can shoot
A swallow on the wing. They have drunken deep.
I cannot answer but their hands might loose
Their shafts before they know it. Now shall I give
The word? Ready, my lads!
[_The FORESTERS make ready to shoot. JOHN hesitates for a
moment._]
JOHN
My Lady Marian,
One word, and then I'll take my leave of you!
[_She pays no heed._]
Farewell, then! I have five-score men at hand!
And they shall be but lightning to the hell
Of my revenge, Fitzwalter. I will not leave
One stone upon another. From this night's work
Shall God Himself not save you.
[_Exeunt JOHN and his men._]
FRIAR TUCK
[_As they go out._]
My Lord Fitzwalter!
I have confessed him! Shall I bid 'em shoot?
'Twill save a world of trouble.
FITZWALTER
No; or the King
Himself will come against me. Follow them out,
Drive them out of my gates, then raise the drawbridge
And let none cross. Oh, I foresaw, foretold!
Robin has wrecked us all!
[_Exeunt the FORESTERS and FITZWALTER. SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
remains alone with MARIAN._]
MARIAN
[_She flings herself down on a couch and buries her head in her arms._]
O Robin, Robin,
I cannot lose you now!
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
[_Sitting at her feet. The lights grow dim._]
Ah, well, the prince
Promised to break the walls down. Don't you think
These villains are a sort of ploughshare, lady,
And where they plough, who knows what wheat may spring!
The lights are burning low and very low;
So, Lady Marian, let me tell my dream.
There was a forester that bled to death
Because of four grey walls and a black nun
Whose face I could not see--but, oh, beware!
Though I am but your fool, your Shadow-of-a-Leaf,
Dancing before the wild winds of the future,
I feel them thrilling through my tattered wits
Long ere your wisdom feels them. My poor brain
Is like a harp hung in a willow-tree
Swept by the winds of fate. I am but a fool,
But oh, beware of that black-hooded nun.
MARIAN
This is no time for jesting, Shadow-of-a-Leaf.
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
The lights are burning low. Do you not feel
A cold breath on your face?
MARIAN
Fling back that shutter!
Look out and tell me what is happening.
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
[_Flinging back the shutter._]
Look,
Look, gossip, how the moon comes dancing in.
Ah, they have driven Prince John across the drawbridge.
They are raising it, now!
[_There are cries in the distance, then a heavy sound of chains
clanking and silence. SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF turns from
the window and stands in the stream of moonlight,
pointing to the door on the left._]
Look! Look!
MARIAN
[_Starting up with a cry of fear._]
Ah!
[_The tall figure of a nun glides into the moonlit hall and throwing
back her hood reveals the face of QUEEN ELINOR._]
ELINOR
Lady Marion,
Tell me quickly, where is Huntingdon hiding?
MARIAN
The Queen!
ELINOR
Yes! Yes! I donned this uncouth garb
To pass through your besiegers. If Prince John
Discover it, all is lost. Come, tell me quickly,
Where is Robin?
MARIAN
Escaped, I hope.
ELINOR
Not here?
MARIAN
No!
ELINOR
Come, dear Lady Marian, do not doubt me.
I am here to save you both.
MARIAN
He is not here.
ELINOR
Ah, but you know where I may find him, Marian.
All will be lost if you delay to tell me
Where I may speak with him. He is in peril.
By dawn Prince John will have five hundred men
Beleaguering the castle. You are all ruined
Unless you trust me! Armies will scour the woods
To hunt him down. Even now he may be wounded,
Helpless to save himself.
MARIAN
Wounded!
ELINOR
Dear child,
Take me to him. Here, on this holy cross,
My mother's dying gift, I swear to you
I wish to save him.
MARIAN
Oh, but how?
ELINOR
Trust me!
MARIAN
Wounded! He may be wounded! Oh, if I could,
I'd go to him! I am helpless, prisoned here.
My father ...
ELINOR
I alone can save your father.
Give me your word that if I can persuade him,
You'll lead me to your lover's hiding place,
And let me speak with him.
[_Enter FITZWALTER._]
Ah, my Lord Fitzwalter!
FITZWALTER
The queen! O madam, madam, I am driven
Beyond myself. This girl, this foolish girl
Has brought us all to ruin. This Huntingdon,
As I foresaw, foresaw, foretold, foretold,
Has dragged me down with him.
ELINOR
I am on your side,
If you will hear me; and you yet may gain
A son in Robin Hood.
FITZWALTER
Madam, I swear
I have done with him. I pray you do not jest;
But if you'll use your power to save my lands ...
I was provoked!...
Prince John required this child here--
ELINOR
Oh, I know!
But you'll forgive him that! I do not wonder
That loveliness like hers--
FITZWALTER
Ay, but you'll pardon
A father's natural anger. Madam, I swear
I was indeed provoked. But you'll assure him
I've washed my hands of Huntingdon.
MARIAN
And yet
His men are, even now, guarding your walls!
Father, you cannot, you shall not--
FITZWALTER
Oh, be silent!
Who wrapt me in this tangle? Are you bent
On driving me out in my old age to seek
Shelter in caves and woods?
ELINOR
My good Fitzwalter,
It has not come to that! If you will trust me
All will be well; but I must speak a word
With Robin Hood.
FITZWALTER
You!
ELINOR
Oh, I have a reason.
Your daughter knows his hiding place.
FITZWALTER
She knows!
ELINOR
Oh, trust them both for that. I am risking much!
To-morrow she shall guide me there. This bird
Being flown, trust me to make your peace with John.
FITZWALTER
But--Marian!
ELINOR
She'll be safer far with Robin,
Than loitering here until your roof-tree burns.
I think you know it. Fitzwalter, I can save you,
I swear it on this cross.
FITZWALTER
But--Marian! Marian!
ELINOR
Your castle wrapt in flame!...
There's nought to fear,
If she could--Marian, once, at a court masque,
You wore a page's dress of Lincoln green,
And a green hood that muffled half your face,
I could have sworn 'twas Robin come again--
He was my page, you know--
Wear it to-morrow--go, child, bid your maid
Make ready--we'll set out betimes.
MARIAN
[_Going up to her father._]
I'll go,
If you will let me, father. He may be wounded!
Father, forgive me. Let me go to him.
ELINOR
Go, child, first do my bidding. He'll consent
When you return.
[_Exit MARIAN._]
My dear good friend Fitzwalter,
Trust me, _I_ have some power with Huntingdon.
All shall be as you wish. I'll let her guide me,
But--as for her--she shall not even see him
Unless you wish. Trust me to wind them all
Around my little finger.
FITZWALTER
It is dark here.
Let us within. Madam, I think you are right.
And you'll persuade Prince John?
ELINOR
[_As they go up the steps._]
I swear by this,
This holy cross, my mother's dying gift!
FITZWALTER
It's very sure he'd burn the castle down.
[_Exeunt._]
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
[_Coming out into the moonlight and staring up after them._]
The nun! The nun! They'll whip me if I speak,
For I am only Shadow-of-a-Leaf, the Fool.
[_Curtain._]
ACT II
_SCENE I. Sherwood Forest: An open glade, showing on the right the mouth
of the outlaw's cave. It is about sunset. The giant figure of LITTLE
JOHN comes out of the cave, singing._
LITTLE JOHN
[_Sings._]
When Spring comes back to England
And crowns her brows with may,
Round the merry moonlit world
She goes the greenwood way.
[_He stops and calls in stentorian tones._]
Much! Much! Much! Where has he vanished now,
Where has that monstrous giant the miller's son
Hidden himself?
[_Enter MUCH, a dwarf-like figure, carrying a large bundle of ferns._]
MUCH
Hush, hush, child, here I am!
And here's our fairy feather-beds, ha! ha!
Come, praise me, praise me, for a thoughtful parent.
There's nothing makes a better bed than ferns
Either for sleeping sound or rosy dreams.
LITTLE JOHN
Take care the fern-seed that the fairies use
Get not among thy yellow locks, my Titan,
Or thou'lt wake up invisible. There's none
Too much of Much already.
MUCH
[_Looking up at him impudently._]
It would take
Our big barn full of fern-seed, I misdoubt,
To make thee walk invisible, Little John,
My sweet Tom Thumb! And, in this troublous age
Of forest-laws, if we night-walking minions,
We gentlemen of the moon, could only hunt
Invisible, there's many and many of us
With thumbs lopped off, eyes gutted and legs pruned,
Slick, like poor pollarded pear-trees, would be lying
Happy and whole this day beneath the boughs.
LITTLE JOHN
Invisible? Ay, but what would Jenny say
To such a ghostly midge as thou would'st be
Sipping invisibly at her cherry lips.
MUCH
Why, there now, that's a teaser. E'en as it is
(Don't joke about it) my poor Jenny takes
The smallness of her Much sorely to heart!
And though I often tell her half a loaf
(Ground in our mill) is better than no bread,
She weeps, poor thing, that an impartial heaven
Bestows on her so small a crumb of bliss
As me! You'd scarce believe, now, half the nostrums,
Possets and strangely nasty herbal juices
That girl has made me gulp, in the vain hope
That I, the frog, should swell to an ox like thee.
I tell her it's all in vain, and she still cheats
Her fancy and swears I've grown well nigh three feet
Already. O Lord, she's desperate. She'll advance
Right inward to the sources of creation,
She'll take the reins of the world in hand. She'll stop
The sun like Joshua, turn the moon to blood,
And if I have to swallow half the herbs
In Sherwood, I shall stalk a giant yet,
Shoulder to shoulder with thee, Little John,
And crack thy head at quarter-staff. But don't,
Don't joke about it. 'Tis a serious matter.
LITTLE JOHN
Into the cave, then, with thy feather-bed.
Old Much, thy father, waits thee there to make
A table of green turfs for Robin Hood.
We shall have guests anon, O merry times,
Baron and Knight and abbot, all that ride
Through Sherwood, all shall come and dine with him
When they have paid their toll! Old Much is there
Growling at thy delay.
MUCH
[_Going towards the cave._]
O, my poor father.
Now, there's a sad thing, too. He is so ashamed
Of his descendants. Why for some nine years
He shut his eyes whenever he looked at me;
And I have seen him on the village green
Pretend to a stranger, once, who badgered him
With curious questions, that I was the son
Of poor old Gaffer Bramble, the lame sexton.
That self-same afternoon, up comes old Bramble
White hair a-blaze and big red waggling nose
All shaking with the palsy; bangs our door
Clean off its hinges with his crab-tree crutch,
And stands there--framed--against the sunset sky!
He stretches out one quivering fore-finger
At father, like the great Destroying Angel
In the stained window: straight, the milk boiled over,
The cat ran, baby squalled and mother screeched.
Old Bramble asks my father--what--what--what
He meant--he meant--he meant! You should have seen
My father's hopeless face! Lord, how he blushed,
Red as a beet-root! Lord, Lord, how he blushed!
'Tis a hard business when a parent looks
Askance upon his offspring.
[_Exit into the cave._]
LITTLE JOHN
Skip, you chatterer!
Here comes our master.
[_Enter ROBIN HOOD._]
Master, where hast thou been?
I feared some harm had come to thee. What's this?
This was a cloth-yard shaft that tore thy coat!
ROBIN
Oh, ay, they barked my shoulder, devil take them.
I got it on the borders of the wood.
St. Nicholas, my lad, they're on the watch.
LITTLE JOHN
What didst thou there? They're on the watch, i' faith!
A squirrel could not pass them. Why, my namesake
Prince John would sell his soul to get thy head,
And both his ears for Lady Marian;
And whether his ears or soul be worth the more,
I know not. When the first lark flittered up
To sing, at dawn, I woke; and thou wast gone.
What didst thou there?
ROBIN
Well, first I went to swim
In the deep pool below the mill.
LITTLE JOHN
I swam
Enough last night to last me many a day.
What then?
ROBIN
I could not wash away the thought
Of all you told me. If Prince John should dare!
That helpless girl! No, no, I will not think it.
Why, Little John, I went and tried to shoot
A grey goose wing thro' Lady Marian's casement.
LITTLE JOHN
Oh, ay, and a pink nosegay tied beneath it.
Now, master, you'll forgive your Little John,--
But that's midsummer madness and the may
Is only half in flower as yet. But why--
You are wounded--why are you so pale?
ROBIN
No--no--
Not wounded; but oh, my good faithful friend,
She is not there! I wished to send her warning.
I could not creep much closer; but I swear
I think the castle is in the hands of John.
I saw some men upon the battlements,
Not hers--I know--not hers!
LITTLE JOHN
Hist, who comes here?
[_He seizes his bow and stands ready to shoot._]
ROBIN
Stop, man, it is the fool. Thank God, the fool,
Shadow-of-a-Leaf, my Marian's dainty fool.
How now, good fool, what news? What news?
[_Enter SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF._]
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Good fool!
Should I be bad, sir, if I chanced to bring
No news at all? That is the wise man's way.
Thank heaven, I've lost my wits. I am but a leaf
Dancing upon the wild winds of the world,
A prophet blown before them. Well, this evening,
It is that lovely grey wind from the West
That silvers all the fields and all the seas,
And I'm the herald of May!
ROBIN
Come, Shadow-of-a-Leaf,
I pray thee, do not jest.
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
I do not jest.
I am vaunt-courier to a gentleman,
A sweet slim page in Lincoln green who comes,
Wood-knife on hip, and wild rose in his face,
With golden news of Marian. Oh, his news
Is one crammed honeycomb, swelling with sweetness
In twenty thousand cells; but delicate!
So send thy man aside.
ROBIN
Go, Little John.
[_LITTLE JOHN goes into the cave._]
Well, Shadow-of-a-Leaf, where is he?
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
At this moment
His hair is tangled in a rose bush: hark,
He swears, like a young leopard! Nay, he is free.
Come, master page, here is that thief of love,
Give him your message. I'll to Little John.
[_Exit into the cave. Enter MARIAN, as a page in Lincoln green,
her face muffled in a hood._]
ROBIN
Good even, master page, what is thy news
Of Lady Marian?
[_She stands silent._]
Answer me quickly, come,
Hide not thy face!
[_She still stands muffled and silent._]
Come, boy, the fool is chartered,
Not thou; and I'll break off this hazel switch
And make thee dance if thou not answer me.
What? Silent still? Sirrah, this hazel wand
Shall lace thee till thou tingle, top to toe.
I'll ...
MARIAN
[_Unmuffling._]
Robin!
ROBIN
[_Catches her in his arms with a cry._]
Marian! Marian!
MARIAN
Fie upon you,
Robin, you did not know me.
ROBIN
[_Embracing her._]
Oh, you seemed
Ten thousand miles away. This is not moonlight,
And I am not Endymion. Could I dream
My Dian would come wandering through the fern
Before the sunset? Even that rose your face
You muffled in its own green leaves.
MARIAN
But you,
Were hidden in the heart of Sherwood, Robin,
Hidden behind a million mighty boughs,
And yet I found you.
ROBIN
Ay, the young moon stole
In pity down to her poor shepherd boy;
But he could never climb the fleecy clouds
Up to her throne, never could print one kiss
On her immortal lips. He lay asleep
Among the poppies and the crags of Latmos,
And she came down to him, his queen stole down.
MARIAN
Oh, Robin, first a rose and then a moon,
A rose that breaks at a breath and falls to your feet,
The fickle moon--Oh, hide me from the world;
For there they say love goes by the same law!
Let me be outlawed then. I cannot change.
Sweetheart, sweetheart, Prince John will hunt me down!
Prince John--Queen Elinor will hunt me down!
ROBIN
Queen Elinor! Nay, but tell me what this means?
How came you here?
MARIAN
The Queen--she came last night,
Made it an odious kind of praise to me
That he, not three months wedded to his bride,
Should--pah!
And then she said five hundred men
Were watching round the borders of the wood;
But she herself would take me safely through them,
Said that I should be safer here with Robin,
She had your name so pat--and I gave way.
[_Enter QUEEN ELINOR behind. She conceals herself to listen._]
ROBIN
Marian, she might have trapped you to Prince John.
MARIAN
No; no; I think she wanted me to guide her
Here to your hiding place. She wished to see you
Herself, unknown to John, I know not why.
It was my only way. Her skilful tongue
Quite won my father over, made him think,
Poor father, clinging to his lands again,
He yet might save them. And so, without ado
(It will be greatly to the joy of Much,
Your funny little man), I bade my maid
Jenny, go pack her small belongings up
This morning, and to follow with Friar Tuck
And Widow Scarlet. They'll be here anon.
ROBIN
Where did you leave the Queen?
MARIAN
Robin, she tried
To kill me! We were deep within the wood
And she began to tell me a wild tale,
Saying that I reminded her of days
When Robin was her page, and how you came
To Court, a breath of April in her life,
And how you worshipped her, and how she grew
To love you. But she saw you loved me best
(So would she mix her gall and lies with honey),
So she would let you go. And then she tried
To turn my heart against you, bade me think
Of all the perils of your outlawry,
Then flamed with anger when she found my heart
Steadfast; and when I told her we drew nigh
The cave, she bade me wait and let her come
First, here, to speak with you. Some devil's trick
Gleamed in her smile, the way some women have
Of smiling with their lips, wreathing the skin
In pleasant ripples, laughing with their teeth,
While the cold eyes watch, cruel as a snake's
That fascinates a bird. I'd not obey her.
She whipped a dagger out. Had it not been
For Shadow-of-a-Leaf, who dogged us all the way,
Poor faithful fool, and leapt out at her hand,
She would have killed me. Then she darted away
Like a wild thing into the woods, trying to find
Your hiding place most like.
ROBIN
O Marian, why,
Why did you trust her? Listen, who comes here?
[_Enter FRIAR TUCK, JENNY and WIDOW SCARLET._]
Ah, Friar Tuck!
MARIAN
Good Jenny!
ROBIN
And Widow Scarlet!
FRIAR TUCK
O children, children, this is thirsty weather!
The heads I have cracked, the ribs I have thwacked, the bones
I have bashed with my good quarter-staff, to bring
These bits of womankind through Sherwood Forest.
ROBIN
What, was there scuffling, friar?
FRIAR TUCK
Some two or three
Pounced on us, ha! ha! ha!
JENNY
A score at least,
Mistress, most unchaste ruffians.
FRIAR TUCK
They've gone home,
Well chastened by the Church. This pastoral staff
Mine oaken _Pax Vobiscum_, sent 'em home
To think about their sins, with watering eyes.
You never saw a bunch of such blue faces,
Bumpy and juicy as a bunch of grapes
Bruised in a Bacchanalian orgy, dripping
The reddest wine a man could wish to see.
ROBIN
I picture it--those big brown hands of thine
Grape-gathering at their throttles, ha! ha! ha!
Come, Widow Scarlet, come, look not so sad.
WIDOW SCARLET
O master, master, they have named the day
For killing of my boy.
ROBIN
They have named the day
For setting of him free, then, my good dame.
Be not afraid. We shall be there, eh, Friar?
Grape-gathering, eh?
FRIAR
Thou'lt not be there thyself.
My son, the game's too dangerous now, methinks.
ROBIN
I shall be there myself. The game's too good
To lose. We'll all be there. You're not afraid,
Marian, to spend a few short hours alone
Here in the woods with Jenny.
MARIAN
Not for myself,
Robin.
ROBIN
We shall want every hand that day,
And you'll be safe enough. You know we go
Disguised as gaping yokels, old blind men,
With patches on their eyes, poor wandering beggars,
Pedlars with pins and poking-sticks to sell;
And when the time is come--a merry blast
Rings out upon a bugle and suddenly
The Sheriff is aware that Sherwood Forest
Has thrust its green boughs up beneath his feet.
Off go the cloaks and all is Lincoln green,
Great thwacking clubs and twanging bows of yew.
Oh, we break up like nature thro' the laws
Of that dark world; and then, good Widow Scarlet,
Back to the cave we come and your good Will
Winds his big arm about you once again.
Go, Friar, take her in and make her cosy.
Jenny, your Much will grow three feet at least
With joy to welcome you. He is in the cave.
[_FRIAR TUCK and WIDOW SCARLET go towards the cave._]
FRIAR TUCK
Now for a good bowse at a drinking can.
I've got one cooling in the cave, unless
That rascal, Little John, has drunk it all.
[_Exeunt into cave._]
JENNY
[_To MARIAN._]
Mistress, I haven't spoke a word to you
For nigh three hours. 'Tis most unkind, I think.
MARIAN
Go, little tyrant, and be kind to Much.
JENNY
Mistress, it isn't Much I want. Don't think
Jenny comes trapesing through these awful woods
For Much. I haven't spoke a word with you
For nigh three hours. 'Tis most unkind, I think.
MARIAN
Wait, Jenny, then, I'll come and talk with you.
Robin, she is a tyrant; but she loves me.
And if I do not go, she'll pout and sulk
Three days on end. But she's a wondrous girl.
She'd work until she dropped for me. Poor Jenny!
ROBIN
That's a quaint tyranny. Go, dear Marian, go;
But not for long. We have so much to say.
Come quickly back.
[_Exit MARIAN. ROBIN paces thoughtfully across the glade._
_QUEEN ELINOR steals out of her hiding place and
stands before him._]
You here!
ELINOR
Robin, can you
Believe that girl? Am I so treacherous?
ROBIN
It seems you have heard whate'er I had to say.
ELINOR
Surely you cannot quite forget those days
When you were kind to me. Do you remember
The sunset through that oriel?
ROBIN
Ay, a god
Grinning thro' a horse-collar at a pitiful page,
Dazed with the first red gleam of what he thought
Life, as the trouveres find it! I am ashamed,
Remembering how your quick tears blinded me!
ELINOR
Ashamed! You--you--that in my bitter grief
When Rosamund--
ROBIN
I know! I thought your woes,
Those tawdry relics of your treacheries,
Wrongs quite unparalleled. I would have fought
Roland himself to prove you spotless then.
ELINOR
Oh, you speak thus to me! Robin, beware!
I have come to you, I have trampled on my pride,
Set all on this one cast! If you should now
Reject me, humble me to the dust before
That girl, beware! I never forget, I warn you;
I never forgive.
ROBIN
Are you so proud of that?
ELINOR
Ah, well, forgive me, Robin. I'll save you yet
From all these troubles of your outlawry!
Trust me--for I can wind my poor Prince John
Around my little finger. Who knows--with me
To help you--there are but my two sons' lives
That greatly hinder it--why, yourself might reign
Upon the throne of England.
ROBIN
Are you so wrapped
In treacheries, helplessly false, even to yourself,
That now you do not know falsehood from truth,
Darkness from light?
ELINOR
O Robin, I was true
At least to you. If I were false to others,
At least I--
ROBIN
No--not that--that sickening plea
Of truth in treachery. Treachery cannot live
With truth. The soul wherein they are wedded dies
Of leprosy.
ELINOR
[_Coming closer to him._]
Have you no pity, Robin,
No kinder word than this for the poor creature
That crept--Ah, feel my heart, feel how it beats!
No pity?
ROBIN
Five years ago this might have moved me!
ELINOR
No pity?
ROBIN
None. There is no more to say.
My men shall guide you safely through the wood.
ELINOR
I never forgive!
[_Enter MARIAN from the cave; she stands silent and startled._]
ROBIN
My men shall guide you back.
[_Calls._]
Ho, there, my lads!
[_Enter several of the OUTLAWS._]
This lady needs a guide
Back thro' the wood.
ELINOR
Good-bye, then, Robin, and good-bye to you,
Sweet mistress! You have wronged me! What of that?
For--when we meet--Come, lead on, foresters!
[_Exeunt the QUEEN and her guides._]
MARIAN
O Robin, Robin, how the clouds begin
To gather--how that woman seems to have brought
A nightmare on these woods.
ROBIN
Forget it all!
She is so tangled in those lies the world
Draws round some men and women, none can help her.
Marian, for God's sake, let us quite forget
That nightmare! Oh, that perfect brow of yours,
Those perfect eyes, pure as the violet wells
That only mirror heaven and are not dimmed
Except by clouds that drift thro' heaven and catch
God's glory in the sunset and the dawn.
MARIAN
It is enough for them simply to speak
The love they hold for you. But--I still fear.
Robin--think you--she might have overheard
Your plan--the rescue of Will Scarlet?
ROBIN
Why--
No--No--some time had passed, and yet--she seemed
To have heard your charge against her! No, she guessed it.
Come--let us brush these cobwebs from our minds.
Look how the first white star begins to tremble
Like a big blossom in that sycamore.
Now you shall hear our forest ritual.
Ho, Little John! Summon the lads together!
[_The OUTLAWS come out of the cave. LITTLE JOHN blows a bugle
and others come in from the forest._]
Friar, read us the rules.
FRIAR TUCK
First, shall no man
Presume to call our Robin Hood or any
By name of Earl, lord, baron, knight or squire,
But simply by their names as men and brothers:
Second, that Lady Marian while she shares
Our outlaw life in Sherwood shall be called
Simply Maid Marian. Thirdly, we that follow
Robin, shall never in thought or word or deed
Do harm to widow, wife or maid; but hold,
Each, for his mother's or sister's or sweetheart's sake,
The glory of womanhood, a sacred thing,
A star twixt earth and heaven. Fourth, whomsoever
Ye meet in Sherwood ye shall bring to dine
With Robin, saving carriers, posts and folk
That ride with food to serve the market towns
Or any, indeed, that serve their fellow men.
Fifth, you shall never do the poor man wrong,
Nor spare a priest or usurer. You shall take
The waste wealth of the rich to help the poor,
The baron's gold to stock the widow's cupboard,
The naked ye shall clothe, the hungry feed,
And lastly shall defend with all your power
All that are trampled under by the world,
The old, the sick and all men in distress.
ROBIN
So, if it be no dream, we shall at last
Hasten the kingdom of God's will on earth.
There shall be no more talk of rich and poor,
Norman and Saxon. We shall be one people,
One family, clustering all with happy hands
And faces round that glowing hearth, the sun.
Now let the bugle sound a golden challenge
To the great world. Greenleaf, a forest call!
[_REYNOLD GREENLEAF blows a resounding call._]
Now let the guards be set; and then, to sleep!
To-morrow there'll be work enough for all.
The hut for Jenny and Maid Marian!
Come, you shall see how what we lack in halls
We find in bowers. Look how from every branch
Such tapestries as kings could never buy
Wave in the starlight. You'll be waked at dawn
By feathered choirs whose notes were taught in heaven.
MUCH
Come, Jenny, come, we must prepare the hut
For Mistress Marian. Here's a bundle of ferns!
[_They go into the hut. The light is growing dimmer and richer._]
LITTLE JOHN
And here's a red cramoisy cloak, a baron
[_Handing them in at the door._]
Dropt, as he fled one night from Robin Hood;
And here's a green, and here's a midnight blue,
All soft as down. But wait, I'll get you more.
[_Two of the Outlaws appear at the door with deerskins. SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
stands behind them with a great bunch of
flowers and ferns._]
FIRST OUTLAW
Here's fawn-skins, milder than a maiden's cheek.
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Oh, you should talk in rhyme! The world should sing
Just for this once in tune, if Love were king!
SECOND OUTLAW
Here's deer-skins, for a carpet, smooth and meek.
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
I knew you would! Ha! ha! Now look at what I bring!
[_He throws flowers into the hut, spray by spray, speaking in a
kind of ecstasy._]
Here's lavender and love and sweet wild thyme,
And dreams and blue-bells that the fairies chime,
Here's meadow-sweet and moonlight, bound in posies,
With ragged robin, traveller's joy and roses,
And here--just three leaves from a weeping willow;
And here--that's best--deep poppies for your pillow.
MUCH
And here's a pillow that I made myself,
Stuffed with dry rose-leaves and grey pigeon's down,
The softest thing on earth except my heart!
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
[_Going aside and throwing himself down among the ferns to watch._]
Just three sweet breaths and then the song is flown!
[_MUCH looks at him for a moment with a puzzled face, then turns to the hut
again._]
MUCH
Jenny, here, take it--though I'm fond of comforts,
Take it and give it to Maid Marian.
JENNY
Why, Much, 'tis bigger than thyself.
MUCH
Hush, child.
I meant to use it lengthways. 'Twould have made
A feather-bed complete for your poor Much,
Take it!
[_The OUTLAWS all go into the cave._]
MARIAN
O Robin, what a fairy palace!
How cold and grey the walls of castles seem
Beside your forest's fragrant halls and bowers.
I do not think that I shall be afraid
To sleep this night, as I have often been
Beneath our square bleak battlements.
ROBIN
And look,
Between the boughs, there is your guard, all night,
That great white star, white as an angel's wings,
White as the star that shone on Bethlehem!
Good-night, sweetheart, good-night!
MARIAN
Good-night!
ROBIN
One kiss!
Oh, clear bright eyes, dear heavens of sweeter stars,
Where angels play, and your own sweeter soul
Smiles like a child into the face of God,
Good-night! Good-night!
[_MARIAN goes into the hut. The door is shut. ROBIN goes to
the mouth of the cave and throws himself down on a
couch of deerskins. The light grows dimly rich and
fairy-like._]
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
[_Rising to his knees._]
Here comes the little cloud!
[_A little moonlit cloud comes floating down between the tree-tops
into the glade. TITANIA is seen reposing upon it. She
steps to earth. The cloud melts away._]
How blows the wind from fairyland, Titania?
TITANIA
Shadow-of-a-Leaf, the wicked queen has heard
Your master's plan for saving poor Will Scarlet.
She knows Maid Marian will be left alone,
Unguarded in these woods. The wicked Prince
Will steal upon her loneliness. He plots
To carry her away.
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
What can we do?
Can I not break my fairy vows and tell?
TITANIA
No, no; you cannot, even if you would,
Convey our fairy lore to mortal ears.
When have they heard our honeysuckle bugles
Blowing reveille to the crimson dawn?
We can but speak by dreams; and, if you spoke,
They'd whip you, for your words would all ring false
Like sweet bells out of tune.
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
What can we do?
TITANIA
Nothing, except on pain of death, to stay
The course of Time and Tide. There's Oberon!
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Oberon!
TITANIA
He can tell you more than I.
[_Enter OBERON._]
OBERON
Where's Orchis? Where's our fairy trumpeter
To call the court together?
ORCHIS
Here, my liege.
OBERON
Bugle them hither; let thy red cheeks puff
Until thy curled petallic trumpet thrill
More loudly than a yellow-banded bee
Thro' all the clover clumps and boughs of thyme.
They are scattered far abroad.
ORCHIS
My liege, it shall
Outroar the very wasp!
[_Exit._]
OBERON
[_As he speaks, the fairies come flocking from all sides into the
glade._]
Methinks they grow
Too fond of feasting. As I passed this way
I saw the fairy halls of hollowed oaks
All lighted with their pale green glow-worm lamps.
And under great festoons of maiden-hair
Their brilliant mushroom tables groaned with food.
Hundreds of rose-winged fairies banqueted!
All Sherwood glittered with their prismy goblets
Brimming the thrice refined and luscious dew
Not only of our own most purplest violets,
But of strange fragrance, wild exotic nectars,
Drawn from the fairy blossoms of some star
Beyond our tree-tops! Ay, beyond that moon
Which is our natural limit--the big lamp
Heaven lights upon our boundary.
ORCHIS
Mighty King,
The Court is all attendant on thy word.
OBERON
[_With great dignity._]
Elves, pixies, nixies, gnomes and leprechauns,
[_He pauses._]
We are met, this moonlight, for momentous councils
Concerning those two drowsy human lovers,
Maid Marian and her outlawed Robin Hood.
They are in dire peril; yet we may not break
Our vows of silence. Many a time
Has Robin Hood by kindly words and deeds
Done in his human world, sent a new breath
Of life and joy like Spring to fairyland;
And at the moth-hour of this very dew-fall,
He saved a fairy, whom he thought, poor soul,
Only a may-fly in a spider's web,
He saved her from the clutches of that Wizard,
That Cruel Thing, that dark old Mystery,
Whom ye all know and shrink from--
[_Exclamations of horror from the fairies._]
Plucked her forth,
So gently that not one bright rainbow gleam
Upon her wings was clouded, not one flake
Of bloom brushed off--there lies the broken web.
Go, look at it; and here is pale Perilla
To tell you all the tale.
[_The fairies cluster to look at the web, etc._]
A FAIRY
Can we not make them free
Of fairyland, like Shadow-of-a-Leaf, to come
And go, at will, upon the wings of dreams?
OBERON
Not till they lose their wits like Shadow-of-a-Leaf.
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Can I not break my fairy vows and tell?
OBERON
Only on pain of what we fairies call
Death!
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Death?
OBERON
Never to join our happy revels,
Never to pass the gates of fairyland
Again, but die like mortals. What that means
We do not know--who knows?
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
If I could save them!--
I am only Shadow-of-a-Leaf!
OBERON
There is a King
Beyond the seas. If he came home in time,
All might be well. We fairies only catch
Stray gleams, wandering shadows of things to come.
TITANIA
Oh, if the King came home from the Crusade!
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Why will he fight for graves beyond the sea?
OBERON
Our elfin couriers brought the news at dusk
That Lion-Heart, while wandering home thro' Europe,
In jet-black armour, like an errant knight,
Despite the great red cross upon his shield,
Was captured by some wicked prince and thrust
Into a dungeon. Only a song, they say,
Can break those prison-bars. There is a minstrel
That loves his King. If he should roam the world
Singing until from that dark tower he hears
The King reply, the King would be set free.
TITANIA
Only a song, only a minstrel?
OBERON
Ay;
And Blondel is his name.
[_A long, low sound of wailing is heard in the distance. The
fairies shudder and creep together._]
TITANIA
Hark, what is that?
OBERON
The cry of the poor, the cry of the oppressed,
The sound of women weeping for their children,
The victims of the forest laws. The moan
Of that dark world where mortals live and die
Sweeps like an icy wind thro' fairyland.
And oh, it may grow bitterer yet, that sound!
'Twas Merlin's darkest prophecy that earth
Should all be wrapped in smoke and fire, the woods
Hewn down, the flowers discoloured and the sun
Begrimed, until the rows of lifeless trees
Against the greasy sunset seemed no more
Than sooty smudges of an ogre's thumbs
Upon the sweating forehead of a slave.
While, all night long, fed with the souls of men,
And bodies, too, great forges blast and burn
Till the great ogre's cauldrons brim with gold.
[_The wailing sound is heard again in the distance._]
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
To be shut out for ever, only to hear
Those cries! I am only Shadow-of-a-Leaf, the fool,
I cannot face it! Is there no hope but this?
No hope for Robin and Maid Marian?
OBERON
If the great King comes home from the Crusade
In time! If not,--there is another King
Beyond the world, they say.
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Death, that dark death!
To leave the sunlight and the flowers for ever!
I cannot bear it! Oh, I cannot tell them.
I'll wait--perhaps the great King will come home,
If not--Oh, hark, a wandering minstrel's voice?
OBERON
Who is drawing hither? Listen, fairies, listen!
[_Song heard approaching thro' the wood._]
Knight on the narrow way,
Where wouldst thou ride?
"Onward," I heard him say,
"Love, to thy side!"
"Nay," sang a bird above;
"Stay, for I see
Death in the mask of love,
Waiting for thee."
[_The song breaks off. Enter a MINSTREL, leading a great white
steed. He pauses, confronted by the fairy host. The
moonlight dazzles him._]
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Minstrel, art thou, too, free of fairyland?
Where wouldst thou ride? What is thy name?
MINSTREL
My name
Is Blondel.
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Blondel!
THE FAIRIES
Blondel!
MINSTREL
And I ride
Through all the world to seek and find my King!
[_He passes through the fairy host and goes into the woods on the
further side of the glade, continuing his song, which
dies away in the distance._]
[_Song._]
"Death? What is death?" he cried.
"I must ride on,
On to my true love's side,
Up to her throne!"
[_Curtain._]
ACT III
SCENE I. _May-day. An open place (near NOTTINGHAM). A crowd of rustics
and townsfolk assembling to see the execution of WILL SCARLET._
FIRST RUSTIC
A sad may-day! Where yonder gallows glowers,
We should have raised the may-pole.
SECOND RUSTIC
Ay, no songs,
No kisses in the ring, no country dances
To-day; no lads and lasses on the green,
Crowning their queen of may.
[_Enter ROBIN HOOD, disguised as an old beggar, with a green
patch on one eye._]
ROBIN
Is this the place,
Masters, where they're a-goin' to hang Will Scarlet?
FIRST RUSTIC
Ay, father, more's the pity.
ROBIN
Eh! Don't ye think
There may be scuffling, masters? There's a many
That seems to like him well, here, roundabouts.
SECOND RUSTIC
Too many halberts round him. There's no chance.
ROBIN
I've heard the forest might break out, the lads
In Lincoln green, you wot of! If they did?
FIRST RUSTIC
There's many here would swing a cudgel and help
To trip the Sheriff up. If Robin Hood
Were only here! But then he's outlawed now.
SECOND RUSTIC
Ay, and there's big rewards out. It would be
Sure death for him to try a rescue now.
The biggest patch of Lincoln Green we'll see
This day, is that same patch on thy old eye,
Eh, lads!
THIRD RUSTIC
What's more, they say Prince John is out
This very day, scouring thro' Sherwood forest
In quest of Lady Marian!
ROBIN
[_Sharply._]
You heard that?
THIRD RUSTIC
Ay, for they say she's flown to Sherwood forest.
SECOND RUSTIC
Ah! Ah? That's why he went. I saw Prince John!
With these same eyes I saw him riding out
To Sherwood, not an hour ago.
ROBIN
You saw him?
SECOND RUSTIC
Ay, and he only took three men at arms.
FIRST RUSTIC
Three men at arms! Why then, he must ha' known
That Robin's men would all be busy here!
He's none so bold, he would not risk his skin!
I think there'll be some scuffling after all.
ROBIN
Ay, tell 'em so--go, spread it thro' the crowd!
[_He mutters to himself._]
He'd take some time, to find her, but 'fore God
We must be quick; 'fore God we must be quick!
SECOND RUSTIC
Why, father, one would never think to see thee
Thou had'st so sound a heart!
FIRST RUSTIC
Ah, here they come!
The Sheriff and his men; and, in the midst,
There's poor Will Scarlet bound.
THE CROWD MURMURS
Ah, here they come!
Look at the halberts shining! Can you see him?
FIRST RUSTIC
There, there he is. His face is white: but, Lord,
He takes it bravely.
SECOND RUSTIC
He's a brave man, Will.
SHERIFF
Back with the crowd there, guards; delay no time!
SOME WOMEN IN THE CROWD
Ah, ah, poor lad!
ROBIN
[_Eagerly._]
What are they doing now?
I cannot see!
FIRST RUSTIC
The Sheriff's angered now!
SECOND RUSTIC
Ay, for they say a messenger has come
From that same godless hangman whose lean neck
I'd like to twist, saying he is delayed.
'Tis the first godly deed he has ever done.
THIRD RUSTIC
The Sheriff says he will not be delayed.
But who will take the hangman's office?
ROBIN
Masters,
I have a thought; make way; let me bespeak
The Sheriff!
RUSTICS
How now, father, what's to do?
ROBIN
Make way, I tell you. Here's the man they want!
SHERIFF
What's this?
ROBIN
Good master Sheriff, I've a grudge
Against Will Scarlet. Let me have the task
Of sending him to heaven!
CROWD
Ah-h-h, the old devil!
SHERIFF
Come on, then, and be brief!
ROBIN
I'm not a hangman;
But I can cleave your thinnest hazel wand
At sixty yards.
SHERIFF
Shoot, then, and make an end.
Make way there, clear the way!
[_An opening is made in the crowd. ROBIN stands in the gap,
WILL SCARLET is not seen by the audience._]
CROWD
Ah-h-h, the old devil!
ROBIN
I'll shoot him one on either side, just graze him,
To show you how I love him; then the third
Slick in his heart.
[_He shoots. A murmur goes up from the crowd. The crowd
hides WILL SCARLET during the shooting. But ROBIN
remains in full view, in the opening._]
SHERIFF
[_Angrily._]
Take care! You've cut the cord
That bound him on that side!
ROBIN
Then here's the second!
I will be careful!
[_He takes a steady aim._]
A RUSTIC TO HIS NEIGHBOURS
I' faith, lads, he can shoot!
What do you think--that green patch on his eye
Smacks of the merry men! He's tricking them!
[_ROBIN shoots. A louder murmur goes up from the crowd._]
SHERIFF
You have cut the rope again!
A CRY
He has cut him free!
ROBIN
All right! All right! It's just to tease the dog!
Here's for the third now!
[_He aims and shoots quickly. There is a loud cry of a wounded
man; then a shout from the crowd._]
THE CROWD
Ah-h-h, he has missed; he has killed
One of the guards!
FIRST RUSTIC
What has he done?
SECOND RUSTIC
He has killed
One of the Sheriff's men!
SHERIFF
There's treachery here!
I'll cleave the first man's heart that moves!
ROBIN
Will Scarlet,
Pick up that dead man's halbert!
SHERIFF
Treachery! Help!
Down with the villain!
ROBIN
[_Throws off his beggar's crouch and hurls the SHERIFF and several
of his men back amongst the crowd. His cloak drops off._]
Sherwood! A merry Sherwood!
CROWD
Ah! ha! The Lincoln Green! A Robin Hood!
[_A bugle rings out and immediately some of the yokels throw off
their disguise and the Lincoln green appears as by
magic amongst the crowd. The guards are rushed and
hustled by them. Robin and several of his men make
a ring round WILL SCARLET._]
SHERIFF
It is the outlawed Earl of Huntingdon:
There is a great reward upon his head.
Down with him!
[_The SHERIFF'S men make a rush at the little band. A KNIGHT
in jet black armour, with a red-cross shield, suddenly appears
and forces his way through the mob, sword in
hand._]
KNIGHT
What, so many against so few!
Back, you wild wolves. Now, foresters, follow me,
For our St. George and merry England, charge,
Charge them, my lads!
[_The FORESTERS make a rush with him and the SHERIFF and his
men take to flight._]
ROBIN
Now back to Sherwood, swiftly!
A horse, or I shall come too late; a horse!
[_He sees the KNIGHT in armour standing by his horse._]
Your pardon, sir; our debt to you is great,
Too great almost for thanks; but if you be
Bound by the vows of chivalry, I pray you
Lend me your charger; and my men will bring you
To my poor home in Sherwood. There you'll find
A most abundant gratitude.
KNIGHT
Your name?
ROBIN
Was Huntingdon; but now is Robin Hood.
KNIGHT
If I refuse?
ROBIN
Then, sir, I must perforce
Take it. I am an outlaw, but the law
Of manhood still constrains me--'tis a matter
Of life and death--
KNIGHT
Take it and God be with you!
I'll follow you to Sherwood with your men.
[_ROBIN seizes the horse, leaps to the saddle, and gallops away._]
[_Curtain._]
SCENE II. _Sherwood Forest. Outside the cave. JENNY, MARIAN and WIDOW
SCARLET._
MARIAN
This dreadful waiting! How I wish that Robin
Had listened to the rest and stayed with me.
How still the woods are! Jenny, do you think
There will be fighting? Oh, I am selfish, mother;
You need not be afraid. Robin will bring
Will Scarlet safely back to Sherwood. Why,
Perhaps they are all returning even now!
Cheer up! How long d'you think they've been away,
Jenny, six hours or more? The sun is high,
And all the dew is gone.
JENNY
Nay, scarce three hours.
Now don't you keep a-fretting. They'll be back,
Quite soon enough. I've scarcely spoke with you,
This last three days and more; and even now
It seems I cannot get you to myself,
Two's quite enough.
[_To WIDOW SCARLET._]
Come, widow, come with me.
I'll give you my own corner in the hut
And make you cosy. If you take a nap
Will Scarlet will be here betimes you wake.
[_Takes her to the hut and shuts her in._]
There, drat her, for a mumping mumble-crust!
MARIAN
Come, Jenny, that's too bad; the poor old dame
Is lonely.
JENNY
She's not lonely when she sleeps,
And if I never get you to myself
Where was the good of trapesing after you
And living here in Sherwood like wild rabbits?
You ha'nt so much as let me comb your hair
This last three days and more.
MARIAN
Well, comb it, Jenny,
Now, if you like, and comb it all day long;
But don't get crabbed, and don't speak so crossly!
[_JENNY begins loosening MARIAN'S hair and combing it._]
JENNY
Why, Mistress, it grows longer every day.
It's far below your knees, and how it shines!
And wavy, just like Much the Miller's brook,
Where it comes tumbling out into the sun,
Like gold, red gold.
MARIAN
Ah, that's provoking, Jenny,
For you forgot to bring me my steel glass,
And, if you chatter so, I shall soon want it.
JENNY
I've found a very good one at a pinch.
There's a smooth silver pool, down in the stream,
Where you can see your face most beautiful.
MARIAN
So that's how Jenny spends her lonely hours,
A sad female Narcissus, while poor Much
Dwines to an Echo!
JENNY
I don't like those gods.
I never cared for them. But, as for Much,
Much is the best of all the merry men.
And, mistress, O, he speaks so beautifully,
It _might_ be just an Echo from blue hills
Far, far away! You see he's quite a scholar:
Much, more an' most (That's what he calls the three
Greasy caparisons--much, more an' most)!
You see they thought that being so very small
They could not make him grow to be a man,
They'd make a scholar of him instead. The Friar
Taught him his letters. He can write his name,
And mine, and yours, just like a missal book,
In lovely colours; and he always draws
The first big letter of JENNY like a tree
With naked Cupids hiding in the branches.
Mistress, I don't believe you hear one word
I ever speak to you! Your eyes are always
That far and far away.
MARIAN
I'm listening, Jenny!
JENNY
Well, when he draws the first big M of yours,
He makes it like a bridge from earth to heaven,
With white-winged angels passing up and down;
And, underneath the bridge, in a black stream,
He puts the drowning face of the bad Prince
Holding his wicked hands out, while a devil
Stands on the bank and with a pointed stake
Keeps him from landing--
Ah, what's that? What's that?
MARIAN
O Jenny, how you startled me!
JENNY
I thought
I saw that same face peering thro' the ferns
Yonder--there--see, they are shaking still.
[_She screams._]
Ah! Ah!
[_PRINCE JOHN and another man appear advancing across the
glade._]
JOHN
So here's my dainty tigress in her den,
And--Warman--there's a pretty scrap for you
Beside her. Now, sweet mistress, will you deign
To come with me, to change these cheerless woods
For something queenlier? If I be not mistaken,
You have had time to tire of that dark cave.
Was I not right, now? Surely you can see
Those tresses were not meant to waste their gold
Upon this desert. Nay, but Marian, hear me.
I do not jest.
[_At a sign from MARIAN, JENNY goes quickly inside the cave._]
That's well! Dismiss your maid!
Warman, remove a little.
[_His man retires._]
I see you think
A little better of me! Out in the wood
There waits a palfrey for you, and the stirrup
Longs, as I long, to clasp your dainty foot.
I am very sure by this you must be tired
Of outlawry, a lovely maid like you.
[_He draws nearer._]
MARIAN
Wait--I must think, must think.
JOHN
Give me your hand!
Why do you shrink from me? If you could know
The fire that burns me night and day, you would not
Refuse to let me snatch one cooling kiss
From that white hand of yours.
MARIAN
If you be prince,
You will respect my loneliness and go.
JOHN
How can I leave you, when by day and night
I see that face of yours.
I'll not pretend
I do not love you, do not long for you,
Desire and hunger for your kiss, your touch!
I'll not pretend to be a saint, you see!
I hunger and thirst for you. Marian, Marian.
MARIAN
You are mad!
JOHN
Ay, mad for you.
Body and soul
I am broken up with love for you. Your eyes
Flash like the eyes of a tigress, and I love them
The better for it.
Ah, do not shrink from me!
[_JENNY comes out of the cave and hands MARIAN a bow. She
leaps back and aims it at JOHN._]
MARIAN
Back, you wild beast, or by the heaven above us,
I'll kill you! Now, don't doubt me. I can shoot
Truly as any forester. I swear,
Prince or no prince, king or no king, I'll kill you
If you should stir one step from where you stand.
JOHN
Come, come, sweet Marian, put that weapon down.
I was beside myself, was carried away.
I cannot help my love for--
MARIAN
I'll not hear
Another sickening word: throw down your arms,
That dagger at your side.
JOHN
Oh, that's too foolish,
Marian, I swear--
MARIAN
You see that rusty stain
Upon the silver birch down yonder? Watch.
[_She shoots. Then swiftly aims at him again._]
Now, throw your weapon down.
[_He pulls out the dagger and throws it down, with a shrug of his
shoulders. One of his men steals up behind MARIAN._]
JENNY
Ah, Mistress Marian,
There's one behind you! Look!
[_The man springs forward and seizes MARIAN'S arms._]
JOHN
[_Coming forward and taking hold of her also._]
So, my sweet tigress,
You're trapped then, are you? Well, we'll waste no time!
We'll talk this over when we reach the castle.
Keep off the maid, there, Warman; I can manage
This turbulent beauty. Ah, by God, you shall
Come! Ah? God's blood, what's this?
[_MARIAN has succeeded in drawing her dagger and slightly wounding
him. She wrests herself free._]
MARIAN
Keep back, I warn you!
JOHN
[_Advancing slowly._]
Strike, now strike if you will. You will not like
To see the red blood spurting up your hand.
That's not maid's work. Come, strike!
[_ROBIN HOOD appears at the edge of the glade behind him_]
You see, you cannot!
Your heart is tenderer than you think.
ROBIN
[_Quietly._]
Prince John!
JOHN
[_Turns round and confronts ROBIN._]
Out with your blade, Warman; call up the rest!
We can strike freely now, without a fear
Of marring the sweet beauty of the spoil.
We four can surely make an end of him.
Have at him, lads, and swiftly, or the thieves
Will all be down on us.
[_ROBIN draws his sword and sets his back to an oak. The other
two followers of PRINCE JOHN come out of the wood._]
ROBIN
Come on, all four!
This oak will shift its roots before I budge
One inch from four such howling wolves. Come on;
You must be tired of fighting women-folk.
Come on! By God, sir, you must guard your head
Better than that,
[_He disarms WARMAN._]
Or you're just food for worms
Already; come, you dogs!
PRINCE JOHN
Work round, you three,
Behind him! Drive him out from that damned oak!
ROBIN
Oh, that's a princely speech! Have at you, sir!
[_He strikes PRINCE JOHN'S sword out of his hand and turns suddenly
to confront the others. JOHN picks up a dagger
and makes as if to stab ROBIN in the back. At the same
instant, bugles are heard in the distance. The red-cross
knight flashes between the trees and seizing JOHN'S arm
in his gauntleted hand, disarms him, then turns to help
ROBIN._]
KNIGHT
What, four on one! Down with your blades, you curs,
Or, by Mahound!--
[_The three men take to flight. JOHN stands staring at the newcomer.
The FORESTERS appear, surrounding the
glade._]
JOHN
[_Muttering._]
What? Thou? Thou? Or his ghost?
No--no--it cannot be.
ROBIN
Let them yelp home,
The pitiful jackals. They have left behind
The prime offender. Ha, there, my merry lads,
All's well; but take this villain into the cave
And guard him there.
[_The FORESTERS lead PRINCE JOHN into the cave._]
JOHN
[_To the FORESTERS._]
Answer me one thing: who
Is yonder red-cross knight?
A FORESTER
No friend of thine,
Whoe'er he be!
KNIGHT
[_To ROBIN._]
I need not ask _his_ name.
I grieve to know it!
ROBIN
Sir, I am much beholden
To your good chivalry. What thanks is mine
To give, is all your own.
KNIGHT
Then I ask this!
Give me that prisoner! I think his life is mine.
ROBIN
You saved my own, and more, you saved much more
Than my poor life is worth. But, sir, think well!
This man is dangerous, not to me alone,
But to the King of England; for he'll yet
Usurp the throne! Think well!
KNIGHT
I ask no more.
I have more reasons than you know.
ROBIN
So be it.
Ho! Bring the prisoner back!
[_The FORESTERS bring PRINCE JOHN back. He stares at
the KNIGHT as if in fear._]
Sir, you shall judge him.
This prisoner is your own.
KNIGHT
Then--let him go!
FORESTERS
What! Set him free?
ROBIN
Obey!
[_They release PRINCE JOHN._]
KNIGHT
Out of my sight;
Go!
PRINCE JOHN
What man is this?
KNIGHT
Quickly, get thee gone!
[_PRINCE JOHN goes out, shaken and white._]
ROBIN
We'll think no more of him! It is our rule
That whomsoe'er we meet in merry greenwood
Should dine with us. Will you not be our guest?
KNIGHT
That's a most happy thought! I have not heard
A merrier word than dinner all this day.
I am well-nigh starved.
ROBIN
Will you not raise your visor
And let us know to whose good knightly hand
We are so beholden?
KNIGHT
Sir, you will pardon me,
If, for a little, I remain unknown.
But, tell me, are you not that Robin Hood
Who breaks the forest laws?
ROBIN
That is my name.
We hold this earth as naturally our own
As the glad common air we breathe. We think
No man, no king, can so usurp the world
As not to give us room to live free lives,
But, if you shrink from eating the King's deer--
KNIGHT
Shrink? Ha! ha! ha! I count it as my own!
[_The FORESTERS appear, preparing the dinner on a table of green
turfs, beneath a spreading oak. MARIAN and JENNY
appear at the door of the hut. JENNY goes across to help
at the preparations for dinner._]
ROBIN
Ah, there's my Lady Marian! Will you not come
And speak with her?
[_He and the KNIGHT go and talk to MARIAN in the background._]
LITTLE JOHN
[_At the table._]
The trenchers all are set;
Manchets of wheat, cream, curds and honey-cakes,
Venison pasties, roasted pigeons! Much,
Run to the cave; we'll broach our rarest wine
To-day. Old Much is waiting for thee there
To help him. He is growling roundly, too,
At thy delay.
MUCH
[_Going towards the cave._]
Ah me, my poor old father!
JENNY
I've dressed the salt and strawed the dining hall
With flowers.
[_Enter FRIAR TUCK with several more FORESTERS and WILL
SCARLET._]
ROBIN
Ah, good Will Scarlet, here at last!
FRIAR TUCK
We should ha' been here sooner; but these others
Borrowed a farmer's market cart and galloped
Ahead of us!
ROBIN
Thy mother is in the hut,
Sheer broken down with hope and fearfulness,
Waiting and trembling for thee, Will. Go in,
Put thy big arm around her.
[_WILL SCARLET goes into the hut with a cry._]
SCARLET
Mother!
FRIAR TUCK
You see,
My sons, you couldn't expect the lad to run!
There is a certain looseness in the limbs,
A quaking of the flesh that overcomes
The bravest who has felt a hangman's rope
Cuddling his neck.
ROBIN
You judge him by the rope
That cuddles your slim waist! Oh, you sweet armful,
Sit down and pant! I warrant you were glad
To bear him company.
FRIAR TUCK
I'll not deny it!
I am a man of solids. Like the Church,
I am founded on a rock.
[_He sits down._]
ROBIN
Solids, i' faith!
Sir, it is true he is partly based on beef;
He grapples with it squarely; but fluids, too,
Have played their part in that cathedral choir
He calls his throat. One godless virtue, sir,
They seem to have given him. Never a nightingale
Gurgles jug! jug! in mellower tones than he
When jugs are flowing. Never a thrush can pipe
Sweet, sweet, so rarely as, when a pipe of wine
Summers his throttle, we'll make him sing to us
One of his heathen ditties--_The Malmsey Butt_,
Or _Down the Merry Red Lane!_
FRIAR TUCK
Oh, ay, you laugh,
But, though I cannot run, when I am rested
I'll challenge you, Robin, to a game of buffets,
One fair, square, stand-up, stand-still, knock-down blow
Apiece; you'll need no more. If you not kiss
The turf, at my first clout, I will forego
Malmsey for ever!
ROBIN
Friar, I recant;
You're champion there. Fists of a common size
I will encounter; but not whirling hams
Like thine!
FRIAR TUCK
I knew it!
JENNY
[_Approaching._]
Please you, sirs, all is ready!
FRIAR TUCK
Ah, Jenny, Jenny, Jenny, that's good news!
[_WILL SCARLET comes out of the hut with his arm round his
mother. They all sit down at the table of turfs. Enter
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF timidly._]
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Is there a place for me?
A FORESTER
Ay, come along!
FRIAR TUCK
Now, Robin, don't forget the grace, my son.
ROBIN
[_Standing up._]
It is our custom, sir, since our repast
Is borrowed from the King, to drain one cup
To him, and his return from the Crusade,
Before we dine. That same wine-bibbing friar
Calls it our 'grace'; and constitutes himself
Remembrancer--without a cause, for never
Have we forgotten, never while bugles ring
Thro' Sherwood, shall forget--Outlaws, the King!
[_All stand up except the KNIGHT._]
CRIES
The King and his return from the Crusade!
[_They drink and resume their seats._]
ROBIN
You did not drink the health, sir Knight. I hope
You hold with Lion-Heart.
KNIGHT
Yes; I hold with him.
You were too quick for me. I had not drawn
These gauntlets off.
But tell me, Lady Marian,
When is your bridal day with Robin Hood?
MARIAN
We shall be wedded when the King comes home
From the Crusade.
KNIGHT
Ah, when the King comes home!
That's music--all the birds of April sing
In those four words for me--the King comes home.
MARIAN
I am glad you love him, sir.
ROBIN
But you're not eating!
Your helmet's locked and barred! Will you not raise
Your visor?
KNIGHT
[_Laughs._]
Ha! ha! ha! You see I am trapped!
I did not wish to raise it! Hunger and thirst
Break down all masks and all disguises, Robin.
[_He rises and removes his helmet, revealing the face of RICHARD
COEUR DE LION._]
ROBIN
The King!
[_They all leap to their feet._]
OUTLAWS
The King! The King!
ROBIN
But oh, my liege,
I should have known, when we were hard beset
Around Will Scarlet by their swarming bands,
And when you rode out of the Eastern sky
And hurled our foemen down, I should have known
It was the King come home from the Crusade!
And when I was beset here in the wood
By treacherous hounds again, I should have known
Whose armour suddenly burned between the leaves!
I should have known, either it was St. George
Or else the King come home from the Crusade!
RICHARD
Indeed there is one thing that might have told you,
Robin--a lover's instinct, since it seems
So much for you and Marian depends
On my return.
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Sire, you will pardon me,
For I am only a fool, and yet methinks
You know not half the meaning of those words--
The King, the King comes home from the Crusade!
Thrust up your swords, heft uppermost, my lads,
And shout--the King comes home from the Crusade.
[_He leaps on a seat, and thrusts up the King's sword, heft uppermost,
as if it were a cross._]
ROBIN
Pardon him, sire, poor Shadow-of-a-Leaf has lost
His wits!
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
That's what Titania said you'd say,
Poor sweet bells out of tune! But oh, don't leave,
Don't leave the forest! There's darker things to come!
Don't leave the forest! I have wits enough at least
To wrap my legs around my neck for warmth
On winter nights.
RICHARD
Well, you've no need to pass
The winter in these woods--
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Oh, not _that_ winter!
ROBIN
Shadow-of-a-Leaf, be silent!
[_SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF goes aside and throws himself down sobbing
among the ferns._]
RICHARD
When even your cave
Methinks can scarce be cheery. Huntingdon,
Your earldom we restore to you this day!
You and my Lady Marian shall return
To Court with us, where your true bridal troth
Shall be fulfilled with golden marriage bells.
Now, friends, the venison pasty! We must hear
_The Malmsey Butt_ and _Down the Merry Red Lane_,
Ere we set out, at dawn, for London Town.
ROBIN
Allan-a-dale shall touch a golden string
To speed our feast, sire, for he soars above
The gross needs of the Churchman!
RICHARD
Allan-a-Dale?
WILL SCARLET
Our greenwood minstrel, sire! His harp is ours
Because we won his bride for him.
RICHARD
His bride?
REYNOLD GREENLEAF
Was to be wedded, sire, against her will
Last May, to a rich old baron.
RICHARD
Pigeon-pie--
And Malmsey--yes--a rich old baron--tell!
ROBIN
Sire, on the wedding day, my merry men
Crowded the aisles with uninvited guests;
And, as the old man drew forth the golden ring,
They threw aside their cloaks with one great shout
Of 'Sherwood'; and, for all its crimson panes,
The church was one wild sea of Lincoln green!
The Forest had broken in, sire, and the bride
Like a wild rose tossing on those green boughs,
Was borne away and wedded here by Tuck
To her true lover; and so--his harp is ours.
ALLAN-A-DALE
No feasting song, sire, but the royal theme
Of chivalry--a song I made last night
In yonder ruined chapel. It is called
_The Old Knight's Vigil_.
RICHARD
Our hearts will keep it young!
[_ALLAN-A-DALE sings, SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF raises his head among the
ferns._]
[_Song._]
I
Once, in this chapel, Lord
Young and undaunted,
Over my virgin sword
Lightly I chaunted,--
"Dawn ends my watch. I go
Shining to meet the foe!"
II
"Swift with thy dawn," I said,
"Set the lists ringing!
Soon shall thy foe be sped,
And the world singing!
Bless my bright plume for me,
Christ, King of Chivalry.
[_SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF rises to his knees amongst the ferns._]
III
"War-worn I kneel to-night,
Lord, by Thine altar!
Oh, in to-morrow's fight,
Let me not falter!
Bless my dark arms for me,
Christ, King of Chivalry.
IV
"Keep Thou my broken sword
All the long night through
While I keep watch and ward!
Then--the red fight through,
Bless the wrenched haft for me,
Christ, King of Chivalry.
V
"Keep, in thy pierced hands,
Still the bruised helmet:
Let not their hostile bands
Wholly o'erwhelm it!
Bless my poor shield for me,
Christ, King of Chivalry.
VI
"Keep Thou the sullied mail,
Lord, that I tender
Here, at Thine altar-rail!
Then--let Thy splendour
Touch it once ... and I go
Stainless to meet the foe."
[_SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF rises to his feet and takes a step towards the
minstrel._]
[_Curtain._]
ACT IV
SCENE I. _Garden of the King's Palace. Enter JOHN and ELINOR._
ELINOR
You will be king the sooner! Not a month
In England, and my good son Lion-Heart
Must wander over-seas again. These two,
Huntingdon and his bride, must bless the star
Of errant knighthood.
JOHN
He stayed just long enough
To let them pass one fearless honeymoon
In the broad sunlight of his royal favour,
Then, like a meteor off goes great King Richard,
And leaves them but the shadow of his name
To shelter them from my revenge. They know it!
I have seen her shiver like a startled fawn
And draw him closer, damn him, as I passed.
ELINOR
They would have flitted to the woods again
But for my Lord Fitzwalter.
JOHN
That old fool
Has wits enough to know I shall be king,
And for his land's sake cheats himself to play
Sir Pandarus of Troy. "'Tis wrong, dear daughter,
To think such evil." Pah, he makes me sick!
ELINOR
Better to laugh. He is useful.
JOHN
If I were king!
If Richard were to perish over-seas!
I'd--
ELINOR
You'd be king the sooner. Never fear:
These wandering meteors flash into their graves
Like lightning, and no thunder follows them
To warn their foolish henchmen.
JOHN
[_Looking at her searchingly._]
Shall I risk
The King's return?
ELINOR
What do you mean?
JOHN
I mean
I cannot wait and watch this Robin Hood
Dangle the fruit of Tantalus before me,
Then eat it in my sight! I have borne enough!
He gave me like a fairing to my brother
In Sherwood Forest; and I now must watch him,
A happy bridegroom with the happy bride,
Whose lips I meant for mine.
ELINOR
And do you think
I love to see it?
JOHN
Had it not been for you
He would have died ere this!
ELINOR
Then let him die!
JOHN
Oh, ay, but do you mean it, mother?
ELINOR
God,
I hate him, hate him!
JOHN
Mother, he goes at noon
To Sherwood Forest, with a bag of gold
For some of his old followers. If, by chance
He fall--how saith the Scripture?--among thieves
And vanish--is not heard of any more,
I think Suspicion scarce could lift her head
Among these roses here to hiss at me,
When Lion-Heart returns.
ELINOR
Vanish?
JOHN
I would not
Kill him too quickly. I would have him taken
To a dungeon that I know.
ELINOR
You have laid your trap
Already? Tell me. You need not be afraid!
I saw them kiss, in the garden, yesternight;
And I have wondered, ever since, if fire
Could make a brand quite hot enough to stamp
My hate upon him.
JOHN
Well, then, I will tell you--
The plan is laid; and, if his bag of gold
Rejoice one serf to-day, then I'll resign
Maid Marian to his loving arms for ever.
But you must help me, mother, or she'll suspect.
Do not let slip your mask of friendliness,
As I have feared. Look--there our lovers come
Beneath that arch of roses. Look, look, mother,
They are taking leave of one another now,
A ghastly parting, for he will be gone
Well nigh four hours, they think. To look at them,
One might suppose they knew it was for ever.
ELINOR
Come, or my hate will show itself in my face:
I must not see them.
[_Exeunt PRINCE and ELINOR. A pause. Enter ROBIN HOOD and
MARIAN._]
ROBIN
So, good-bye, once more,
Sweetheart.
MARIAN
Four hours; how shall I pass the time?
Four hours, four ages, you will scarce be home
By dusk; how shall I pass it?
ROBIN
You've to think
What robe to wear at the great masque to-night
And then to don it. When you've done all that
I shall be home again.
MARIAN
What, not before?
ROBIN
That's not unlikely, either.
MARIAN
Now you mock me,
But you'll be back before the masque begins.
ROBIN
I warrant you I will.
MARIAN
It is a month
To-day since we were married. Did you know it?
Fie, I believe you had forgotten, Robin.
ROBIN
I had, almost. If marriage make the moons
Fly, as this month has flown, we shall be old
And grey in our graves before we know it.
I wish that we could chain old Father Time.
MARIAN
And break his glass into ten thousand pieces.
ROBIN
And drown his cruel scythe ten fathom deep,
Under the bright blue sea whence Love was born:
MARIAN
Ah, but we have not parted all this month
More than a garden's breadth, an arrow's flight:
Time will be dead till you come back again.
Four hours of absence make four centuries!
Do you remember how the song goes, Robin,
That bids true lovers not to grieve at parting
Often? for Nature gently severs them thus,
Training them up with kind and tender art,
For the great day when they must part for ever.
ROBIN
Do you believe it, Marian?
MARIAN
No; for love
Buried beneath the dust of life and death,
Would wait for centuries of centuries,
Ages of ages, until God remembered,
And, through that perishing cloud-wrack, face looked up
Once more to loving face.
ROBIN
Your hope--and mine!
Is not a man's poor memory, indeed,
A daily resurrection? Your hope--and mine!
MARIAN
And all the world's at heart! I do believe it.
ROBIN
And I--if only that so many souls
Like yours have died believing they should meet
Again, lovers and children, little children!
God will not break that trust. I have found my heaven
Again in you; and, though I stumble still,
Your small hand leads me thro' the darkness, up
And onward, to the heights I dared not see,
And dare not even now; but my head bows
Above your face; I see them in your eyes.
Love, point me onward still!
[_He takes her in his arms._]
Good-bye! Good-bye!
MARIAN
Come back, come back, before the masque begins!
ROBIN
Ay, or a little later--never fear:
You'll not so easily lose me.
MARIAN
I shall count
The minutes!
ROBIN
Why, you're trembling!
MARIAN
Yes, I am foolish.
This is the first small parting we have had;
But--you'll be back ere dusk?
ROBIN
[_Laughing._]
Ah, do you think
That chains of steel could hold me, sweet, from you,
With those two heavenly eyes to call me home,
Those lips to welcome me? Good-bye!
MARIAN
Good-bye!
[_He goes hurriedly out. She looks after him for a moment, then
suddenly calls._]
Robin! Ah, well, no matter now--too late!
[_She stands looking after him._]