Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series)

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Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) Page 122

by Algernon Charles Swinburne


  III.

  Eros, with shafts by thousands aimed

  At laughing lovers round in rows,

  Fades from their sight whose tongues proclaimed

  Eros.

  But higher than transient shapes or shows

  The light of love in life inflamed

  Springs, toward no goal that these disclose.

  Above those heavens which passion claimed

  Shines, veiled by change that ebbs and flows,

  The soul in all things born or framed,

  Eros.

  SORROW

  Sorrow, on wing through the world for ever,

  Here and there for awhile would borrow

  Rest, if rest might haply deliver

  Sorrow.

  One thought lies close in her heart gnawn thorough

  With pain, a weed in a dried-up river,

  A rust-red share in an empty furrow.

  Hearts that strain at her chain would sever

  The link where yesterday frets to-morrow:

  All things pass in the world, but never

  Sorrow.

  SLEEP

  Sleep, when a soul that her own clouds cover

  Wails that sorrow should always keep

  Watch, nor see in the gloom above her

  Sleep,

  Down, through darkness naked and steep,

  Sinks, and the gifts of his grace recover

  Soon the soul, though her wound be deep.

  God beloved of us, all men’s lover,

  All most weary that smile or weep

  Feel thee afar or anear them hover,

  Sleep.

  ON AN OLD ROUNDEL TRANSLATED BY D. C. ROSSETTI FROM THE FRENCH OF VILLON

  I.

  Death, from thy rigour a voice appealed,

  And men still hear what the sweet cry saith,

  Crying aloud in thine ears fast sealed,

  Death.

  As a voice in a vision that vanisheth,

  Through the grave’s gate barred and the portal steeled

  The sound of the wail of it travelleth.

  Wailing aloud from a heart unhealed,

  It woke response of melodious breath

  From lips now too by thy kiss congealed,

  Death

  II.

  Ages ago, from the lips of a sad glad poet

  Whose soul was a wild dove lost in the whirling snow,

  The soft keen plaint of his pain took voice to show it

  Ages ago.

  So clear, so deep, the divine drear accents flow,

  No soul that listens may choose but thrill to know it,

  Pierced and wrung by the passionate music’s throe.

  For us there murmurs a nearer voice below it,

  Known once of ears that never again shall know,

  Now mute as the mouth which felt death’s wave o’erflow it

  Ages ago.

  A LANDSCAPE BY COURBET

  Low lies the mere beneath the moorside, still

  And glad of silence: down the wood sweeps clear

  To the utmost verge where fed with many a rill

  Low lies the mere.

  The wind speaks only summer: eye nor ear

  Sees aught at all of dark, hears aught of shrill,

  From sound or shadow felt or fancied here.

  Strange, as we praise the dead man’s might and skill,

  Strange that harsh thoughts should make such heavy cheer,

  While, clothed with peace by heaven’s most gentle will,

  Low lies the mere.

  A FLOWER-PIECE BY FANTIN

  Heart’s ease or pansy, pleasure or thought,

  Which would the picture give us of these?

  Surely the heart that conceived it sought

  Heart’s ease.

  Surely by glad and divine degrees

  The heart impelling the hand that wrought

  Wrought comfort here for a soul’s disease.

  Deep flowers, with lustre and darkness fraught,

  From glass that gleams as the chill still seas

  Lean and lend for a heart distraught

  Heart’s ease.

  A NIGHT-PIECE BY MILLET

  Wind and sea and cloud and cloud-forsaking

  Mirth of moonlight where the storm leaves free

  Heaven awhile, for all the wrath of waking

  Wind and sea.

  Bright with glad mad rapture, fierce with glee,

  Laughs the moon, borne on past cloud’s o’ertaking

  Fast, it seems, as wind or sail can flee.

  One blown sail beneath her, hardly making

  Forth, wild-winged for harbourage yet to be,

  Strives and leaps and pants beneath the breaking

  Wind and sea.

  MARZO PAZZO

  Mad March, with the wind in his wings wide-spread,

  Leaps from heaven, and the deep dawn’s arch

  Hails re-risen again from the dead

  Mad March.

  Soft small flames on rowan and larch

  Break forth as laughter on lips that said

  Nought till the pulse in them beat love’s march.

  But the heartbeat now in the lips rose-red

  Speaks life to the world, and the winds that parch

  Bring April forth as a bride to wed

  Mad March.

  DEAD LOVE

  Dead love, by treason slain, lies stark,

  White as a dead stark-stricken dove:

  None that pass by him pause to mark

  Dead love.

  His heart, that strained and yearned and strove

  As toward the sundawn strives the lark,

  Is cold as all the old joy thereof.

  Dead men, re-risen from dust, may hark

  When rings the trumpet blown above:

  It will not raise from out the dark

  Dead love.

  DISCORD

  Unreconciled by life’s fleet years, that fled

  With changeful clang of pinions wide and wild,

  Though two great spirits had lived, and hence had sped

  Unreconciled;

  Though time and change, harsh time’s imperious child,

  That wed strange hands together, might not wed

  High hearts by hope’s misprision once beguiled;

  Faith, by the light from either’s memory shed,

  Sees, radiant as their ends were undefiled,

  One goal for each — not twain among the dead

  Unreconciled.

  CONCORD

  Reconciled by death’s mild hand, that giving

  Peace gives wisdom, not more strong than mild,

  Love beholds them, each without misgiving

  Reconciled.

  Each on earth alike of earth reviled,

  Hated, feared, derided, and forgiving,

  Each alike had heaven at heart, and smiled.

  Both bright names, clothed round with man’s thanksgiving,

  Shine, twin stars above the storm-drifts piled,

  Dead and deathless, whom we saw not living

  Reconciled.

  MOURNING

  Alas my brother! the cry of the mourners of old

  That cried on each other,

  All crying aloud on the dead as the death-note rolled,

  Alas my brother!

  As flashes of dawn that mists from an east wind smother

  With fold upon fold,

  The past years gleam that linked us one with another.

  Time sunders hearts as of brethren whose eyes behold

  No more their mother:

  But a cry sounds yet from the shrine whose fires wax cold,

  Alas my brother!

  APEROTOS EROS

  Strong as death, and cruel as the grave,

  Clothed with cloud and tempest’s blackening breath,

  Known of death’s dread self, whom none outbrave,

  Strong as death,

  Love, brow-bound with anguish for a wreath,<
br />
  Fierce with pain, a tyrant-hearted slave,

  Burns above a world that groans beneath.

  Hath not pity power on thee to save,

  Love? hath power no pity? Nought he saith,

  Answering: blind he walks as wind or wave,

  Strong as death.

  TO CATULLUS

  My brother, my Valerius, dearest head

  Of all whose crowning bay-leaves crown their mother

  Rome, in the notes first heard of thine I read

  My brother.

  No dust that death or time can strew may smother

  Love and the sense of kinship inly bred

  From loves and hates at one with one another.

  To thee was Caesar’s self nor dear nor dread,

  Song and the sea were sweeter each than other:

  How should I living fear to call thee dead

  My brother?

  INSULARUM OCELLE

  Sark, fairer than aught in the world that the lit skies cover,

  Laughs inly behind her cliffs, and the seafarers mark

  As a shrine where the sunlight serves, though the blown clouds hover,

  Sark.

  We mourn, for love of a song that outsang the lark,

  That nought so lovely beholden of Sirmio’s lover

  Made glad in Propontis the flight of his Pontic bark.

  Here earth lies lordly, triumphal as heaven is above her,

  And splendid and strange as the sea that upbears as an ark,

  As a sign for the rapture of storm-spent eyes to discover,

  Sark.

  IN SARK

  Abreast and ahead of the sea is a crag’s front cloven asunder

  With strong sea-breach and with wasting of winds whence terror is

  shed

  As a shadow of death from the wings of the darkness on waters that

  thunder

  Abreast and ahead.

  At its edge is a sepulchre hollowed and hewn for a lone man’s bed,

  Propped open with rock and agape on the sky and the sea thereunder,

  But roofed and walled in well from the wrath of them slept its dead.

  Here might not a man drink rapture of rest, or delight above wonder,

  Beholding, a soul disembodied, the days and the nights that fled,

  With splendour and sound of the tempest around and above him and

  under,

  Abreast and ahead?

  IN GUERNSEY TO THEODORE WATTS

  I.

  The heavenly bay, ringed round with cliffs and moors,

  Storm-stained ravines, and crags that lawns inlay,

  Soothes as with love the rocks whose guard secures

  The heavenly bay.

  O friend, shall time take ever this away,

  This blessing given of beauty that endures,

  This glory shown us, not to pass but stay?

  Though sight be changed for memory, love ensures

  What memory, changed by love to sight, would say -

  The word that seals for ever mine and yours

  The heavenly bay.

  II.

  My mother sea, my fostress, what new strand,

  What new delight of waters, may this be,

  The fairest found since time’s first breezes fanned

  My mother sea?

  Once more I give me body and soul to thee,

  Who hast my soul for ever: cliff and sand

  Recede, and heart to heart once more are we.

  My heart springs first and plunges, ere my hand

  Strike out from shore: more close it brings to me,

  More near and dear than seems my fatherland,

  My mother sea.

  III.

  Across and along, as the bay’s breadth opens, and o’er us

  Wild autumn exults in the wind, swift rapture and strong

  Impels us, and broader the wide waves brighten before us

  Across and along.

  The whole world’s heart is uplifted, and knows not wrong;

  The whole world’s life is a chant to the sea-tide’s chorus;

  Are we not as waves of the water, as notes of the song?

  Like children unworn of the passions and toils that wore us,

  We breast for a season the breadth of the seas that throng,

  Rejoicing as they, to be borne as of old they bore us

  Across and along.

  IV.

  On Dante’s track by some funereal spell

  Drawn down through desperate ways that lead not back

  We seem to move, bound forth past flood and fell

  On Dante’s track.

  The grey path ends: the gaunt rocks gape: the black

  Deep hollow tortuous night, a soundless shell,

  Glares darkness: are the fires of old grown slack?

  Nay, then, what flames are these that leap and swell

  As ‘twere to show, where earth’s foundations crack,

  The secrets of the sepulchres of hell

  On Dante’s track?

  V.

  By mere men’s hands the flame was lit, we know,

  From heaps of dry waste whin and casual brands:

  Yet, knowing, we scarce believe it kindled so

  By mere men’s hands.

  Above, around, high-vaulted hell expands,

  Steep, dense, a labyrinth walled and roofed with woe,

  Whose mysteries even itself not understands.

  The scorn in Farinata’s eyes aglow

  Seems visible in this flame: there Geryon stands:

  No stage of earth’s is here, set forth to show

  By mere men’s hands.

  VI.

  Night, in utmost noon forlorn and strong, with heart athirst and

  fasting,

  Hungers here, barred up for ever, whence as one whom dreams affright

  Day recoils before the low-browed lintel threatening doom and casting

  Night.

  All the reefs and islands, all the lawns and highlands, clothed with

  light,

  Laugh for love’s sake in their sleep outside: but here the night

  speaks, blasting

  Day with silent speech and scorn of all things known from depth to

  height.

  Lower than dive the thoughts of spirit-stricken fear in souls

  forecasting

  Hell, the deep void seems to yawn beyond fear’s reach, and higher

  than sight

  Rise the walls and roofs that compass it about with everlasting

  Night.

  VII.

  The house accurst, with cursing sealed and signed,

  Heeds not what storms about it burn and burst:

  No fear more fearful than its own may find

  The house accurst.

  Barren as crime, anhungered and athirst,

  Blank miles of moor sweep inland, sere and blind,

  Where summer’s best rebukes not winter’s worst.

  The low bleak tower with nought save wastes behind

  Stares down the abyss whereon chance reared and nursed

  This type and likeness of the accurst man’s mind,

  The house accurst.

  VIII.

  Beloved and blest, lit warm with love and fame,

  The house that had the light of the earth for guest

  Hears for his name’s sake all men hail its name

  Beloved and blest.

  This eyrie was the homeless eagle’s nest

  When storm laid waste his eyrie: hence he came

  Again, when storm smote sore his mother’s breast.

  Bow down men bade us, or be clothed with blame

  And mocked for madness: worst, they sware, was best:

  But grief shone here, while joy was one with shame,

  Beloved and blest.

  ENVOI

  Fly, white butterflies, out to sea,

  Frail pale wings for the winds to try,

  Small white wi
ngs that we scarce can see

  Fly.

  Here and there may a chance-caught eye

  Note in a score of you twain or three

  Brighter or darker of tinge or dye.

  Some fly light as a laugh of glee,

  Some fly soft as a low long sigh:

  All to the haven where each would be

  Fly.

  ASTROPHEL AND OTHER POEMS

  CONTENTS

  TO WILLIAM MORRIS

  ASTROPHEL

  A NYMPHOLEPT

  ON THE SOUTH COAST

  AN AUTUMN VISION

  A SWIMMER’S DREAM

  GRACE DARLING

  LOCH TORRIDON

  THE PALACE OF PAN

  A YEAR’S CAROLS

  ENGLAND: AN ODE

  ETON: AN ODE

  THE UNION

  EAST TO WEST

  INSCRIPTIONS FOR THE FOUR SIDES OF A PEDESTAL

  ON THE DEATH OF RICHARD BURTON

  ELEGY

  A SEQUENCE OF SONNETS ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT BROWNING

  SUNSET AND MOONRISE

  BIRTHDAY ODE

  THRENODY

  THE BALLAD OF MELICERTES

  AU TOMBEAU DE BANVILLE

 

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