Poems and Ballads and Atalanta in Calydon

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Poems and Ballads and Atalanta in Calydon Page 24

by Algernon Swinburne


  I have good will to take this maid to wife.

  And herewith fell to fancies of her life

  And soft half-thoughts that ended suddenly.

  This is man’s guise to please himself, when he

  Shall not see one thing of his pleasant things,

  Nor with outwatch of many travailings

  Come to be eased of the least pain he hath

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  For all his love and all his foolish wrath

  And all the heavy manner of his mind.

  Thus is he like a fisher fallen blind

  That casts his nets across the boat awry

  To strike the sea, but lo, he striketh dry

  And plucks them back all broken for his pain

  And bites his beard and casts across again

  And reaching wrong slips over in the sea.

  So hath this man a strangled neck for fee,

  For all his cost he chuckles in his throat.

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  This Theophile that little hereof wote

  Laid wait to hear of her what she might be:

  Men told him she had name of Dorothy,

  And was a lady of a worthy house.

  Thereat this knight grew inly glorious

  That he should have a love so fair of place.

  She was a maiden of most quiet face,

  Tender of speech, and had no hardihood

  But was nigh feeble of her fearful blood;

  Her mercy in her was so marvellous

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  From her least years, that seeing her school-fellows

  That read beside her stricken with a rod,

  She would cry sore and say some word to God

  That he would ease her fellow of his pain.

  There is no touch of sun or fallen rain

  That ever fell on a more gracious thing.

  In middle Rome there was in stone-working

  The church of Venus painted royally.

  The chapels of it were some two or three,

  In each of them her tabernacle was

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  And a wide window of six feet in glass

  Coloured with all her works in red and gold.

  The altars had bright cloths and cups to hold

  The wine of Venus for the services,

  Made out of honey and crushed wood-berries

  That shed sweet yellow through the thick wet red,

  That on high days was borne upon the head

  Of Venus’ priest for any man to drink;

  So that in drinking he should fall to think

  On some fair face, and in the thought thereof

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  Worship, and such should triumph in his love.

  For this soft wine that did such grace and good

  Was new trans-shaped and mixed with Love’s own blood,

  That in the fighting Trojan time was bled;

  For which came such a woe to Diomed

  That he was stifled after in hard sea.

  And some said that this wine-shedding should be

  Made of the falling of Adonis’ blood,

  That curled upon the thorns and broken wood

  And round the gold silk shoes on Venus’ feet;

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  The taste thereof was as hot honey sweet

  And in the mouth ran soft and riotous.

  This was the holiness of Venus’ house.

  It was their worship, that in August days

  Twelve maidens should go through those Roman ways

  Naked, and having gold across their brows

  And their hair twisted in short golden rows,

  To minister to Venus in this wise:

  And twelve men chosen in their companies

  To match these maidens by the altar-stair,

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  All in one habit, crowned upon the hair.

  Among these men was chosen Theophile.

  This knight went out and prayed a little while,

  Holding queen Venus by her hands and knees;

  I will give thee twelve royal images

  Cut in glad gold, with marvels of wrought stone

  For thy sweet priests to lean and pray upon,

  Jasper and hyacinth and chrysopras,

  And the strange Asian thalamite that was

  Hidden twelve ages under heavy sea

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  Among the little sleepy pearls, to be

  A shrine lit over with soft candle-flame

  Burning all night red as hot brows of shame,

  So thou wilt be my lady without sin.

  Goddess that art all gold outside and in,

  Help me to serve thee in thy holy way.

  Thou knowest, Love, that in my bearing day

  There shone a laughter in the singing stars

  Round the gold-ceilèd bride-bed wherein Mars

  Touched thee and had thee in your kissing wise.

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  Now therefore, sweet, kiss thou my maiden’s eyes

  That they may open graciously towards me;

  And this new fashion of thy shrine shall be

  As soft with gold as thine own happy head.

  The goddess, that was painted with face red

  Between two long green tumbled sides of sea,

  Stooped her neck sideways, and spake pleasantly:

  Thou shalt have grace as thou art thrall of mine.

  And with this came a savour of shed wine

  And plucked-out petals from a rose’s head:

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  And softly with slow laughs of lip she said,

  Thou shalt have favour all thy days of me.

  Then came Theophilus to Dorothy,

  Saying: O sweet, if one should strive or speak

  Against God’s ways, he gets a beaten cheek

  For all his wage and shame above all men.

  Therefore I have no will to turn again

  When God saith ‘go,’ lest a worse thing fall out.

  Then she, misdoubting lest he went about

  To catch her wits, made answer somewhat thus:

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  I have no will, my lord Theophilus,

  To speak against this worthy word of yours;

  Knowing how God’s will in all speech endures,

  That save by grace there may no thing be said.

  Then Theophile waxed light from foot to head,

  And softly fell upon this answering.

  It is well seen you are a chosen thing

  To do God service in his gracious way.

  I will that you make haste and holiday

  To go next year upon the Venus stair,

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  Covered none else, but crowned upon your hair,

  And do the service that a maiden doth.

  She said: but I that am Christ’s maid were loth

  To do this thing that hath such bitter name.

  Thereat his brows were beaten with sore shame

  And he came off and said no other word.

  Then his eyes chanced upon his banner-bird,

  And he fell fingering at the staff of it

  And laughed for wrath and stared between his feet,

  And out of a chafed heart he spake as thus:

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  Lo how she japes at me Theophilus,

  Feigning herself a fool and hard to love;

  Yet in good time for all she boasteth of

  She shall be like a little beaten bird.

  And while his mouth was open in that word

  He came upon the house Janiculum,

  Where some went busily, and other some

  Talked in the gate called the gate glorious.

  The emperor, which was one Gabalus,

  Sat over all and drank chill wine alone.

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  To whom is come Theophilus anon,

  And said as thus: Beau sire, Dieu vous aide.

  And afterward sat under him, and said

  All this thing through as ye have wholly heard.

  Th
is Gabalus laughed thickly in his beard.

  Yea, this is righteousness and maiden rule.

  Truly, he said, a maid is but a fool.

  And japed at them as one full villainous,

  In a lewd wise, this heathen Gabalus,

  And sent his men to bind her as he bade.

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  Thus have they taken Dorothy the maid,

  And haled her forth as men hale pick-purses:

  A little need God knows they had of this,

  To hale her by her maiden gentle hair.

  Thus went she lowly, making a soft prayer,

  As one who stays the sweet wine in his mouth,

  Murmuring with eased lips, and is most loth

  To have done wholly with the sweet of it.

  Christ king, fair Christ, that knowest all men’s wit

  And all the feeble fashion of my ways,

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  O perfect God, that from all yesterdays

  Abidest whole with morrows perfected,

  I pray thee by thy mother’s holy head

  Thou help me to do right, that I not slip:

  I have no speech nor strength upon my lip,

  Except thou help me who art wise and sweet.

  Do this too for those nails that clove thy feet,

  Let me die maiden after many pains.

  Though I be least among thy handmaidens,

  Doubtless I shall take death more sweetly thus.

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  Now have they brought her to King Gabalus,

  Who laughed in all his throat some breathing-whiles:

  By God, he said, if one should leap two miles,

  He were not pained about the sides so much.

  This were a soft thing for a man to touch.

  Shall one so chafe that hath such little bones?

  And shook his throat with thick and chuckled moans

  For laughter that she had such holiness.

  What aileth thee, wilt thou do services?

  It were good fare to fare as Venus doth.

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  Then said this lady with her maiden mouth,

  Shamefaced, and something paler in the cheek:

  Now, sir, albeit my wit and will to speak

  Give me no grace in sight of worthy men,

  For all my shame yet know I this again,

  I may not speak, nor after downlying

  Rise up to take delight in lute-playing,

  Nor sing nor sleep, nor sit and fold my hands,

  But my soul in some measure understands

  God’s grace laid like a garment over me.

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  For this fair God that out of strong sharp sea

  Lifted the shapely and green-coloured land,

  And hath the weight of heaven in his hand

  As one might hold a bird, and under him

  The heavy golden planets beam by beam

  Building the feasting-chambers of his house,

  And the large world he holdeth with his brows,

  And with the light of them astonisheth

  All place and time and face of life and death

  And motion of the north wind and the south,

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  And is the sound within his angel’s mouth

  Of singing words and words of thanksgiving,

  And is the colour of the latter spring

  And heat upon the summer and the sun,

  And is beginning of all things begun

  And gathers in him all things to their end,

  And with the fingers of his hand doth bend

  The stretched-out sides of heaven like a sail,

  And with his breath he maketh the red pale

  And fills with blood faint faces of men dead,

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  And with the sound between his lips are fed

  Iron and fire and the white body of snow,

  And blossom of all trees in places low,

  And small bright herbs about the little hills,

  And fruit pricked softly with birds’ tender bills,

  And flight of foam about green fields of sea,

  And fourfold strength of the great winds that be

  Moved always outward from beneath his feet,

  And growth of grass and growth of sheavèd wheat

  And all green flower of goodly-growing lands;

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  And all these things he gathers with his hands

  And covers all their beauty with his wings;

  The same, even God that governs all these things,

  Hath set my feet to be upon his ways.

  Now therefore for no painfulness of days

  I shall put off this service bound on me.

  Also, fair sir, ye know this certainly,

  How God was in his flesh full chaste and meek

  And gave his face to shame, and either cheek

  Gave up to smiting of men tyrannous.

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  And here with a great voice this Gabalus

  Cried out and said: By God’s blood and his bones,

  This were good game betwixen night and nones

  For one to sit and hearken to such saws:

  I were as lief fall in some big beast’s jaws

  As hear these women’s jaw-teeth clattering;

  By God a woman is the harder thing,

  One may not put a hook into her mouth.

  Now by St. Luke I am so sore adrouth

  For all these saws I must needs drink again.

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  But I pray God deliver all us men

  From all such noise of women and their heat.

  That is a noble scripture, well I weet,

  That likens women to an empty can;

  When God said that he was a full wise man.

  I trow no man may blame him as for that.

  And herewithal he drank a draught, and spat,

  And said: Now shall I make an end hereof.

  Come near all men and hearken for God’s love,

  And ye shall hear a jest or twain, God wot.

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  And spake as thus with mouth full thick and hot;

  But thou do this thou shalt be shortly slain.

  Lo, sir, she said, this death and all his pain

  I take in penance of my bitter sins.

  Yea now, quoth Gabalus, this game begins.

  Lo, without sin one shall not live a span.

  Lo, this is she that would not look on man

  Between her fingers folded in thwart wise.

  See how her shame hath smitten in her eyes

  That was so clean she had not heard of shame.

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  Certes, he said, by Gabalus my name,

  This two years back I was not so well pleased.

  This were good mirth for sick men to be eased

  And rise up whole and laugh at hearing of.

  I pray thee show us something of thy love,

  Since thou wast maid thy gown is waxen wide.

  Yea, maid I am, she said, and somewhat sighed,

  As one who thought upon the low fair house

 

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