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Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50)

Page 199

by Homer


  Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth,

  The silver vessels sparkle clean,

  The shrill bell rings, the censer swings, 35

  And solemn chants resound between.

  Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres

  I find a magic bark.

  I leap on board; no helmsman steers;

  I float till all is dark. 40

  A gentle sound, an awful light!

  Three angels bear the Holy Grail;

  With folded feet, in stoles of white,

  On sleeping wings they sail.

  Ah, blessed vision! blood of God! 45

  My spirit beats her mortal bars,

  As down dark tides the glory slides,

  And starlike mingles with the stars.

  When on my goodly charger borne

  Thro’ dreaming towns I go, 50

  The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,

  The streets are dumb with snow.

  The tempest crackles on the leads.

  And, ringing, springs from brand and mail;

  But o’er the dark a glory spreads, 55

  And gilds the driving hail.

  I leave the plain, I climb the height;

  No branchy thicket shelter yields;

  But blessed forms in whistling storms

  Fly o’er waste fens and windy fields. 60

  A maiden knight — to me is given

  Such hope, I know not fear;

  I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven

  That often meet me here.

  I muse on joy that will not cease, 65

  Pure spaces clothed in living beams,

  Pure lilies of eternal peace,

  Whose odors haunt my dreams;

  And, stricken by an angel’s hand,

  This mortal armor that I wear, 70

  This weight and size, this heart and eyes,

  Are touch’d, are turn’d to finest air.

  The clouds are broken in the sky,

  And thro’ the mountain-walls

  A rolling organ-harmony 75

  Swells up and shakes and falls.

  Then move the trees, the copses nod,

  Wings flutter, voices hover clear:

  “O just and faithful knight of God!

  Ride on! the prize is near.” 80

  So pass I hostel, hall, and grange;

  By bridge and ford, by park and pale,

  All-arm’d I ride, whate’er betide,

  Until I find the Holy Grail.

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  The Higher Pantheism

  Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)

  THE SUN, the moon, the stars, the seas, the hills and the plains, —

  Are not these, O Soul, the Vision of Him, who reigns?

  Is not the Vision He, tho’ He be not that which He seems?

  Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?

  Earth, these solid stars, this weight of body and limb, 5

  Are they not sign and symbol of thy division from Him?

  Dark is the world to thee; thyself art the reason why,

  For is He not all but thou, that hast power to feel “I am I”?

  Glory about thee, without thee; and thou fulfillest thy doom,

  Making Him broken gleams and a stifled splendor and gloom. 10

  Speak to Him, thou, for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet —

  Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.

  God is law, say the wise; O Soul, and let us rejoice.

  For if He thunder by law the thunder is yet His voice.

  Law is God, say some; no God at all, says the fool, 15

  For all we have power to see is a straight staff bent in a pool;

  And the ear of man cannot hear, and the eye of man cannot see;

  But if we could see and hear, this Vision — were it not He?

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Flower in the Crannied Wall

  Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)

  FLOWER in the crannied wall,

  I pluck you out of the crannies,

  I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,

  Little flower — but if I could understand

  What you are, root and all, and all in all, 5

  I should know what God and man is.

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Wages

  Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)

  GLORY of warrior, glory of orator, glory of song,

  Paid with a voice flying by to be lost on an endless sea —

  Glory of Virtue, to fight, to struggle, to right the wrong —

  Nay, but she aim’d not at glory, no lover of glory she;

  Give her the glory of going on, and still to be. 5

  The wages of sin is death: if the wages of Virtue be dust,

  Would she have heart to endure for the life of the worm and the fly?

  She desires no isles of the blest, no quiet seats of the just,

  To rest in a golden grove, or to bask in a summer sky;

  Give her the wages of going on, and not to die. 10

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  The Charge of the Light Brigade

  Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)

  HALF a league, half a league,

  Half a league onward,

  All in the valley of Death

  Rode the six hundred.

  “Forward the Light Brigade! 5

  Charge for the guns!” he said.

  Into the valley of Death

  Rode the six hundred.

  “Forward, the Light Brigade!”

  Was there a man dismay’d? 10

  Not tho’ the soldier knew

  Some one had blunder’d.

  Theirs not to make reply,

  Theirs not to reason why,

  Theirs but to do and die. 15

  Into the valley of Death

  Rode the six hundred.

  Cannon to right of them,

  Cannon to left of them,

  Cannon in front of them 20

  Volley’d and thunder’d;

  Storm’d at with shot and shell,

  Boldly they rode and well,

  Into the jaws of Death,

  Into the mouth of hell 25

  Rode the six hundred.

  Flash’d all their sabres bare,

  Flash’d as they turn’d in air

  Sabring the gunners there,

  Charging an army, while 30

  All the world wonder’d.

  Plunged in the battery-smoke

  Right thro’ the line they broke;

  Cossack and Russian

  Reel’d from the sabre-stroke 35

  Shatter’d and sunder’d.

  Then they rode back, but not,

  Not the six hundred.

  Cannon to right of them,

  Cannon to left of them, 40

  Cannon behind them

  Volley’d and thunder’d;

  Storm’d at with shot and shell,

  While horse and hero fell,

  They that had fought so well 45

  Came thro’ the jaws of Death,

  Back from the mouth of hell,

  All that was left of them,

  Left of six hundred.

  When can their glory fade? 50

  O the wild charge they made!

  All the world wonder’d.

  Honor the charge they made!

  Honor the Light Brigade,

  Noble six hundred! 55

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  The Revenge

  A Ballad of the Fleet

  Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)

  I

  AT Flore
s, in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay,

  And a pinnace, like a flutter’d bird, came flying from far away;

  “Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!”

  Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: “‘Fore God I am no coward;

  But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear, 5

  And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick.

  We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?”

  II

  Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: “I know you are no coward;

  You fly them for a moment to fight with them again.

  But I’ve ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore. 10

  I should count myself the coward if I left them, my Lord Howard,

  To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain.”

  III

  So Lord Howard past away with five ships of war that day,

  Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven;

  But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land 15

  Very carefully and slow,

  Men of Bideford in Devon,

  And we laid them on the ballast down below:

  For we brought them all aboard,

  And they blest him in their pain, that they were not left to Spain, 20

  To the thumb-screw and the stake, for the glory of the Lord.

  IV

  He had only a hundred seamen to work the ship and to fight,

  And he sailed away from Flores till the Spaniard came in sight,

  With his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weather bow.

  “Shall we fight or shall we fly? 25

  Good Sir Richard, tell us now,

  For to fight is but to die!

  There’ll be little of us left by the time this sun be set.”

  And Sir Richard said again: “We be all good Englishmen.

  Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of the devil, 30

  For I never turn’d my back upon Don or devil yet.”

  V

  Sir Richard spoke and he laugh’d, and we roar’d a hurrah and so

  The little Revenge ran on sheer into the heart of the foe,

  With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below;

  For half of their fleet to the right and half to the left were seen, 35

  And the little Revenge ran on thro’ the long sea-lane between.

  VI

  Thousands of their soldiers look’d down from their decks and laugh’d,

  Thousands of their seamen made mock at the mad little craft

  Running on and on, till delay’d

  By their mountain-like San Philip that, of fifteen hundred tons, 40

  And up-shadowing high above us with her yawning tiers of guns,

  Took the breath from our sails, and we stay’d.

  VII

  And while now the great San Philip hung above us like a cloud

  Whence the thunderbolt will fall

  Long and loud, 45

  Four galleons drew away

  From the Spanish fleet that day.

  And two upon the larboard and two upon the starboard lay,

  And the battle-thunder broke from them all.

  VIII

  But anon the great San Philip, she bethought herself and went, 50

  Having that within her womb that had left her ill content;

  And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to hand,

  For a dozen times they came with their pikes and musqueteers,

  And a dozen times we shook ’em off as a dog that shakes his ears

  When he leaps from the water to the land. 55

  IX

  And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea,

  But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three.

  Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons came,

  Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle-thunder and flame;

  Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and her shame. 60

  For some were sunk and many were shatter’d and so could fight us no more —

  God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?

  X

  For he said, “Fight on! fight on!”

  Tho’ his vessel was all but a wreck;

  And it chanced that, when half of the short summer night was gone, 65

  With a grisly wound to be drest he had left the deck,

  But a bullet struck him that was dressing it suddenly dead,

  And himself he was wounded again in the side and the head,

  And he said, “Fight on! fight on!”

  XI

  And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the summer sea, 70

  And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring;

  But they dared not touch us again, for they fear’d that we still could sting,

  So they watch’d what the end would be.

  And we had not fought them in vain,

  But in perilous plight were we, 75

  Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain,

  And half of the rest of us maim’d for life

  In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife;

  And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and cold,

  And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all of it spent; 80

  And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side;

  But Sir Richard cried in his English pride:

  “We have fought such a fight for a day and a night

  As may never be fought again!

  We have won great glory, my men! 85

  And a day less or more

  At sea or ashore,

  We die — does it matter when?

  Sink me the ship, Master Gunner — sink her, split her in twain!

  Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!” 90

  XII

  And the gunner said, “Ay, ay,” but the seamen made reply:

  “We have children, we have wives,

  And the Lord hath spared our lives.

  We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go;

  We shall live to fight again and to strike another blow.” 95

  And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe.

  XIII

  And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then,

  Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last,

  And they praised him to his face with their courtly foreign grace;

  But he rose upon their decks, and he cried: 100

  “I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true;

  I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do.

  With a joyful spirit I Sir Richard Grenville die!”

  And he fell upon their decks, and he died.

  XIV

  And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true, 105

  And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap

  That he dared her with one little ship and his English few;

  Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew,

  But they sank his body with honor down into the deep.

  And they mann’d the Revenge with a swarthier alien crew, 110

  And away she sail’d with her loss and long’d for her own;

  When a wind from the lands they had ruin’d awoke from sleep,

  And the water began to heave and the weather to moan,

  And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew,

  And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew, 115

  Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and their flags,

  And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter’d navy of Spain,

  And th
e little Revenge herself went down by the island crags

  To be lost evermore in the main.

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Rizpah

  17 —

  Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)

  WAILING, wailing, wailing, the wind over land and sea —

  And Willy’s voice in the wind, “O mother, come out to me!”

  Why should he call me to-night, when he knows that I cannot go?

  For the downs are as bright as day, and the full moon stares at the snow.

  We should be seen, my dear; they would spy us out of the town. 5

  The loud black nights for us, and the storm rushing over the down,

  When I cannot see my own hand, but am led by the creak of the chain,

  And grovel and grope for my son till I find myself drenched with the rain.

  Anything fallen again? nay — what was there left to fall?

  I have taken them home, I have number’d the bones, I have hidden them all. 10

  What am I saying? and what are you? do you come as a spy?

  Falls? what falls? who knows? As the tree falls so must it lie.

  Who let her in? how long has she been? you — what have you heard?

  Why did you sit so quiet? you never have spoken a word.

  O — to pray with me — yes — a lady — none of their spies — 15

  But the night has crept into my heart, and begun to darken my eyes.

  Ah — you, that lived so soft, what should you know of the night,

  The blast and the burning shame and the bitter frost and the fright?

 

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