Cornell University Library 
 PR 5062.L8 1893 
 
 Love and sleep, and other poems; with desi 
 
 3 1924 013 527 647 ob.™2 
 
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 Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013527647 
 
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From " Songs of Two Worlds." 
 
 SAW Sleep stand by an enchanted wood, 
 Thick lashes drooping o'er her heavy eyes : 
 f '^ Leaning against a flbwer-cupped tree she stood, 
 The night air gently breathed with slumbrous sighs. 
 Such cloak of silence o'er the world was spread, 
 As on Nile sands clings round the mighty dead. 
 
 About her birds were dumb, and blooms were bowed, 
 And a thick heavy sweetness filled the air; 
 
 White robed she seemed ; and hidden as in a cloud, 
 A star-like jewel in her raven hair. 
 
 Downward to earth her cold torch would she turn 
 
 With feeble fires that might no longer burn. 
 
^LICE AIaVE R S 
 
 -«*^ I 
 
And in her languid limbs and loosened zone 
 Such beauty dwelt ; and in her rippling hair, 
 
 As of old time was hers, and hers alone, 
 The mother of gods and men divinely fair; 
 
 When whiter than white foam or sand she lay, 
 
 The fairest thing beneath the eye of day. 
 
 To her came Love, a comely youth and strong, 
 Fair as the morning of a day in June ; 
 
 Around him breathed a faint sweet air of song. 
 And his limbs moved as to a joyous tune ; 
 
 With golden locks blown back, and eyes aflame. 
 
 To where the sleeping maiden leant, he came. 
 
 Then they twain passed within that mystic grove 
 Together, and with them I, myself unseen. 
 
 Oh, strange, sweet land ! wherein all men may prove 
 The things they would, the things which might have 
 been; 
 
 Hopeless hopes blossom, withered youth revives, 
 
 And sunshine comes again to darkened lives. 
 
Which shall renew my early wedded years, 
 
 When the king loved me first. Thrice blest indeed. 
 
 There is no queen in Hellas such as I, 
 
 Dowered with such fair-grown offspring ; not a queen 
 
 Nor mother o'er all earth's plain, around which flows 
 
 The wide salt stream of the surrounding sea, 
 
 As blest as I. Nay, in Olympus' self 
 
 What offspring were they to all-ruling Zeus 
 
 That Leto bore ? Phcebus and Artemis, 
 
 A goodly pair indeed, but two alone. 
 
 Poor mother, that to such a lord as Zeus 
 
 Bare only those, no fairer than my own. 
 
 Nay, I am happier than a goddess' self; 
 
 I would not give this goodly train of mine 
 
 For that scant birth. I ask no boon of Zeus, 
 
 Nor of the Olympian Gods; for I am glad. 
 
 No fruitful mother in a peasant's hut, 
 
 Scorning the childless great, thinks scorn of me, 
 
 Being such as I. Nay, let Queen Leto's self 
 
 Know, that a mortal queen has chanced to bear 
 
 As fair as she, and more." 
 
 Even as I spoke, 
 While the unholy pride flashed through my soul, 
 There pierced through the closed lattice one keen shaft 
 Of blinding sun, which on the opposite wall 
 Traced some mysterious sign, and on my mind 
 Such vague remorse and consciousness of ill. 
 That straightway all my pride was sunk and lost 
 In a great dread, nor could I longer bear 
 To look upon the fairness of my girls, 
 
Ah me, the fatal day ! For at high noon 
 
 I sate within my Theban palace fair — 
 
 Deep summer-time it was — and marked the crowd 
 
 From the thronged city street, to the smooth plain, 
 
 Stream joyously : the brave youths, full of life. 
 
 Stripped for the mimic fray, the leap, the race, 
 
 The wrestling ; and the princes, my strong sons, 
 
 The fair limbs I had borne beneath my zone 
 
 Grown to full stature, such as maidens love, — 
 
 The sinewy arms, the broad chests, and strong loins 
 
 Of manhood ; the imperfect flower-like forms, 
 
 Eager with youth's first fires ; my youngest born, 
 
 My darling, dofl3.ng his ephebic robe 
 
 Which late he donned with pride, a child in heart, 
 
 In budding limbs a youth ; — I see them go 
 
 Their fair young bodies glistening in the sun. 
 
 Which kissed the shining olive. As they went, 
 
 The joyous concourse winding towards the plain. 
 
 My happy eyes o'erflowed, and as I turned 
 
 And saw my daughter^ round me, fair grown lives 
 
 And virgin, sitting spinning the white flax. 
 
 Each with her distaff", beautiful and fit 
 
 To wed with any stately king of men 
 
 And reign a queen in Hellas, my glad heart 
 
 Broke forth in pride, and as I looked I thought, 
 
 " Oh happy, happy mother of such sons ! 
 
 Oh happy, happy mother of such girls ! 
 
 For whom full soon the joyous nuptial rites 
 
 Shall bring the expectant bridegroom and the bride. 
 
 And soon once more the little childish hands 
 
f^LiCE 
 
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What sights were theirs in that, blest wonder-land ? 
 
 See, the white mountain -summits, framed in cloud, 
 Redden with sunset ; while below them stand 
 
 The solemn piue-woods like a funeral crowd ; 
 And lower still the vineyards twine, and make 
 A double vintage in the tranquil lake. 
 
 Or, after storm-tost nights, on some sea isle 
 The sudden tropical morning bursts ; and lo ! 
 
 Bright birds and feathery palms, the green hills smile, 
 Strange barks, with swarthy crews, dart to and fro ; 
 
 And on the blue bay, glittering like a crown. 
 
 The white domes of some fair historic town. 
 
 Or, they fare northward ever, northward still, 
 At midnight, under the unsetting sun ; 
 
 O'er endless snows, from hill to icy hill, 
 
 Where silence reigns with death, and life is done : 
 
 Till from the North a sweet wind suddenly ; 
 
 And hark ! the warm waves of the fabulous sea. 
 
Or, some still eve, when summer days are long, 
 And the mown hay is sweet, and wheat is green, 
 
 They hear some wood-bird sing the old fair song 
 Of joys to be, greater than yet have been. 
 
 Stretched 'neath the snowy hawthorn, till the star, 
 
 Hung high in heaven, warns them that home is far. 
 
 Or, on the herbless, sun-struck hills, by night, 
 Under the silent peaks, they hear the loud 
 
 Wild flutes ; and onward, by the ghostly light, 
 
 Whirled in nude dances, sweeps the maddened crowd ; 
 
 Till the fierce eddy seize them, and they prove 
 
 The shame, the rapture, of unfettered love. 
 
 Or, by the sacred hearth they seem to sit, 
 While firelight gleams on many a sunny head ; 
 
 At that fair hour, before the lamp is lit. 
 
 When hearts are fullest, though no word be said, — 
 
 When the world fades, and rank and wealth and fame, 
 
 Seem, matched with this, no better than a name. 
 
All these they knew ! and then a breeze of day 
 Stirred the dark wood ; and then they seemed to come 
 
 Forth with reluctant feet among the gray, 
 Bare fields, unfanciful ; and all the flame 
 
 Was hurnt from out Love's eyes, and from his hair, 
 
 And his smooth cheek was marked with lines of care. 
 
 And paler showed the maid, more pure and white 
 And holier than before. But when I said, 
 
 " Sweet eyes, be opened ; " lo, the unveiled sight 
 Was as the awful vision of the dead ! 
 
 Then knew I, breathing slow, with difficult breath, 
 
 That Love was one with Life, and Sleep with Death. 
 
%^fW..^rp:. 
 
 nLlCE f^AV£R3 
 
From "The Epic of Hades." 
 
 Then I came 
 
 On one a maiden, meek with folded hands, 
 
 Seated against a rugged face of cliff, 
 
 In silent thought. Anon she raised her arms. 
 
 Her gleaming arms, above her on the rock, 
 
 With hands which clasped each other, till she showed 
 As in a statue, and her white robe fell 
 
 Down from her maiden shoulders, and I knew 
 
 The fair form as it seemed chained to the stone 
 
 By some invisible gyves, and named her name : 
 
 And then she raised her frightened eyes to mine 
 
 As one who, long expecting some great fear, 
 
 Scarce sees deliverance come. But when she saw 
 
 Only a kindly glance, a softer look 
 
 Came in them, and she answered to my thought 
 
 With a sweet voice and low, 
 
 "I did but muse 
 
 Upon the painful past, long dead and done. 
 
 Forgetting I was saved. 
 
 The angry clouds 
 
 Burst always on the low flat plains, and swept 
 
 The harvest to the ocean ; all the land 
 
Was wasted. A great serpent from the deep, 
 Lifting his horrible liead above their homes, 
 Devoured the children. And the people prayed 
 In vain to careless gods. 
 
 On that dear land, 
 Which now was turned into a sullen sea, 
 Gazing in safety from the stately towers 
 Of my sire's palace, I, a princess, saw, 
 Lapt in soft luxury, within my bower 
 The wreck of humble homes come whirling by, 
 The drowning, bleating flocks, the bellowing herds. 
 The grain scarce husbanded by toiling hands 
 Upon the sunlit plain, rusli to the sea. 
 With floating corpses. On the rain-swept hills 
 The remnant of the people hiiddled close, 
 Homeless and starving. All my being was filled 
 With pity for them, and I joyed to give 
 What food and shelter and compassionate hands 
 Of woman might. I took the little ones 
 And clasped them shivering to the virgin breast 
 Which knew no other touch but theirs, and gave 
 Raiment and food. My sire, not stern to me. 
 Smiled on me as he saw. My gentle mother, 
 Who loved me with a closer love than binds 
 A mother to her son ; and sunned herself 
 In my fresh beauty, seeing in my young eyes 
 Her own fair vanished youth ; doted on me, 
 And fain had kept my eyes from the sad sights 
 That pained them. But my heart was sad in me, 
 Seeing the ineflable miseries of life. 
 
And that mysterious anger of the gods, 
 And helpless to allay them. All in vain 
 Were prayer and supplication, all in vain 
 The costly victims steamed. The vengeful clouds 
 Hid the fierce sky, and still the ruin came. 
 And wallowing his grim length within the liood, 
 Over the ravaged fields and homeless homes, 
 The fell sea-monster raged, sating his jaws 
 With blood and rapine. 
 
 Then to the dread shrine 
 Of Ammon went the priests, and reverend chiefs 
 Of all the nation. White-robed, at their head. 
 Went slow my royal sire. The oracle 
 Spoke clear, not as ofttimes in words obscure, 
 Ambiguous. And as we stood to meet 
 The suppliants — she who bare me, with her head 
 Upon my neck — we cheerful and with song 
 Welcomed their swift return ; auguring well 
 From such a quick-sped mission. 
 
 But my sire 
 Hid his face from me, and the crowd of priests 
 And nobles looked not at us. And no word 
 Was spoken till at last one drew a scroll 
 And gave it to the queen, who straightway swooned, 
 Having read it, on my breast, and then I saw, 
 T the young girl whose soft life scarcely knew 
 Shadow of sorrow, I whose heart was full 
 Of pity for the rest, what doom was mine. 
 
 I think I hardly knew in that dread hour 
 The fear that came anon ; I was transformed 
 

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Into a champion of my race, made strong 
 
 With a new courage, glorying to meet, 
 
 In all the ecstasy of sacrifice, 
 
 Death face to face. Some god, I know not who, 
 
 Overspread me, and despite my mother's tears 
 
 And my stern father's grief, I met my fate 
 
 Unshrinking. 
 
 When the moon rose clear from cloud 
 Once more again over the midnight sea, 
 And that vast watery plain, where were before 
 Hundreds of happy homes, and well-tilled fields, 
 And purple vineyards ; from my father's towers 
 The white procession went along the paths. 
 The high cliff paths, which well I loved of old. 
 Among the myrtles. Priests with censers went 
 And offerings, robed in white, and round their brows 
 The sacred fillet. With his nobles walked 
 My sire with breaking heart. My mother clung 
 To me the victim, and the young girls went 
 With wailing and with tears. A solemn strain 
 The soft flutes sounded, as we went by night 
 To a wild headland, rock-based in the sea. 
 
 There on a sea-worn rock, upon the verge. 
 To some rude stanchions, high above my head. 
 They bound me. Out at sea, a black reef rose. 
 Washed by the constant surge, wherein a cave 
 Sheltered deep down the monster. The sad queen 
 Would scarcely leave me, though the priests shrunk back 
 In terror. Last, torn from my endless kiss. 
 Swooning they bore her upwards. All my robe 
 
^%^ -1^ >r- 
 
Fell from my lifted arms, and left displayed 
 
 The virgin treasure of my breasts ; and then 
 
 The white procession through the moonlight streamed 
 
 Upwards, and soon their soft flutes sounded low 
 
 Upon the high lawns, leaving me alone. 
 
 There stood I in the moonlight, left alone 
 Against the sea-worn rock. Hardly I knew. 
 Seeing only the bright moon and summer sea, 
 Which gently heaved and surged, and kissed the ledge 
 With smooth warm tides, what fate was mine. I seemed. 
 Soothed by the quiet, to be resting still 
 Within my maiden chamber, and to watch 
 The moonlight thro' my lattice. Then again 
 Fear came, and then the pride of sacrifice 
 Filled me, as on the high cliff lawns I heard 
 The wailing cries, the chanted liturgies. 
 And knew me bound forsaken to the rock. 
 And saw the monster-haunted depths of sea. 
 
 So ail night long upon the sandy shores 
 I heard the hollow murmur of the wave, 
 And all night long the hidden sea caves made 
 A ghostly echo ; and the sea birds mewed 
 Around me ; once I heard a mocking laugh. 
 As of some scornful Nereid ; once the waters 
 Broke louder on the scarped reefs, and ebbed 
 As if the monster coming; but again 
 He came not, and the dead moon sank, and still 
 Only upon the cliffs the wails, the chants. 
 And I forsaken on my sea-worn rock. 
 And lo, the monster-haunted depths of sea. 
 
Till at the dead dark hour before the dawn, 
 When sick men die, and scarcely fear itself 
 Bore up my weary eyelids, a great surge 
 Burst on the rock, and slowly, as it seemed. 
 The sea sucked downwards to its depths, laid bare 
 The hidden reefs, and then before my eyes — 
 Oh, horrible ! a huge and loathsome snake 
 Lifted his dreadful crest and scaly side 
 Above the wave, in bulk and length so large. 
 Coil after hideous coil, that scarce the eye 
 Could measure its full horror ; the great jaws 
 Dropped as with gore ; the large and furious eyes 
 Were fired with blood and lust. Nearer he came, 
 And slowly, with a devilish glare, more near, 
 Till his hot foetor choked me, and his tongue. 
 Forked horribly within his poisonous jaws. 
 Played lightning-like around me. For awhile 
 I swooned, and when I knew my life again. 
 Death's bitterness was past. 
 
 Then with a bound 
 Leaped up the broad red sun above the sea, 
 And lit the horrid fulgour of his scales. 
 And struck upon the rock ; and as I turned 
 My head m the last agony of death, 
 I knew a brilliant sunbeam swiftly leaping 
 Downward from crag to crag, and felt new hope 
 Where all was hopeless. On the hills a shout 
 Of joy, and on the rocks the ring of mail ; 
 And while the hungry serpent's gloating eyes 
 Were fixed on me, a knight in casque of gold 
 
And blazing shield, who with his flashing blade 
 Fell on the monster. Long the conflict raged, 
 Till all the rocks were red with blood and slime. 
 And yet my champion from those horrible jaws 
 And dreadful coils was scatheless. Zeus his sire 
 Protected, and the awful shield he bore 
 Withered the monster's life and left him cold, 
 Dragging his helpless length and grovelling crest : 
 And o'er his glaring eyes the films of death 
 Crept, and his writhing flank and hiss of hate 
 The great deep swallowed down, and blood and spume 
 Rose on the waves ; and a strange wailing cry 
 Resounded o'er the waters, and the sea 
 Bellowed within its hollow-sounding caves. 
 
 Then knew I, I was saved, and with me all 
 The people. From my wrists he loosed the gyves, 
 My hero ; and within his godlike arms 
 Bore me by slippery rock and diflBcult path. 
 To where my mother prayed. There was no need 
 To ask my love. Without a spoken word 
 Love lit his fires within me. My young heart 
 Went forth. Love calling, and I gave him all. 
 
 Dost thou then wonder that the memory 
 Of this supreme brief moment lingers still, 
 While all the happy uneventful years 
 Of wedded Ufe, and all the fair young growth 
 Of offspring, and the tranquil later joys. 
 Nay, even the fierce eventful fight which raged 
 When we were wedded, fade and are deceased, 
 Lost in the irrecoverable past? 
 
Nay, 'tis not strange. Always the memory 
 
 Of overwhelming perils or great joys, 
 
 Avoided or enjoyed, writes its own trace 
 
 With such deep characters upon our lives, 
 
 That all the rest are blotted. In this place. 
 
 Where is not action, thought, or count of time, 
 
 It is not weary as it were on earth. 
 
 To dwell on these old memories. Time is born 
 
 Of dawns and sunsets, days that wax and wane 
 
 And stamp themselves upon the yielding face 
 
 Of fleeting human life , but here there 
 
 Morning nor evening, act nor suffering, 
 
 But only one unchanging Present holds 
 
 Our being suspended. One blest day indeed. 
 
 Or centuries ago or yesterday, 
 
 There came among us one who was Divine, 
 
 Not as our gods, joyous and breathing strength 
 
 And careless life, but crowned with a new crown 
 
 Of suffering, and a great light came with him. 
 
 And with him he brought Time and a new sense 
 
 Of dim, long- vanished years ; and since he passed 
 
 I seemed to see new meaning in my fate. 
 
 And all the deeds I tell of Evermore 
 
 The young life comes, bound to the cruel rocks 
 
 Alone. Before it the unfathomed sea 
 
 Smiles, fiUed with monstrous growths that wait to take 
 
 Its innocence. Far off the voice and hand 
 
 Of love kneel by in agony, and entreat 
 
 The seeming careless gods. Still when the deep 
 
 Is smoothest, lo, the deadly fangs and coils 
 
Lurk near, to smite with death. And o'er the crags 
 
 Of duty, like a sudden sunbeam, springs 
 
 Some golden soul half mortal, half divine, 
 
 Heaven-sent, and breaks the chain ; and evermore 
 
 For sacrifice they die, through sacrifice 
 
 They live, and are for others, and no grief 
 
 Which smites the humblest but reverberates 
 
 Thro' all the close-set files of life, and takes 
 
 The princely soul that from its royal towers 
 
 Looks down and sees the sorrow. 
 
 Sir, farewell ! 
 If thou shouldst meet my children on the earth 
 Or hear, for maybe it is long ago 
 Since I and they were living, say to them 
 I only muse a little here, and wait 
 The waking." 
 
 And her lifted arms sank down 
 Upon her knees, and as I passed I saw her 
 Gazing with soft rapt eyes, and on her lips 
 A smile as of a saint. 
 
From " The Epic of Hades." 
 
 Nay, not alone. 
 One fair shade lingered in the fuller day, 
 The last to come, when now my dream had grown 
 Half mixed with waking thoughts, as grows a dream 
 In summer mornings when the broader light 
 Dazzles the sleeper's eyes ; and is most fair 
 Of all and best remembered, and becomes 
 Part of our waking life, when older dreams 
 Grow fainter, and are fled. So this remained 
 The fairest of the visions that I knew, 
 Most precious and most dear. 
 
 The increasing light 
 Shone through her, finer than the thinnest shade, 
 And yet most full of beauty ; golden wings. 
 From her fair shoulders springing, seemed to lift 
 Her stainless feet from the cold ground and snatch 
 Their wearer into air ; and in her eyes 
 Was such fair glance as comes from virgin love. 
 Long chastened and triumphant. Every trace 
 Of earth had vanished from her, and she showed 
 As one who walks a saint already in life, 
 Virgin or mother. Immortality 
 
 Breathed from those radiant eyes which yet had passed 
 Between the gates of death. I seemed to hear 
 The Soul of mortals speaking : 
 
" I was born 
 Of a great race and mighty, and was grown 
 Fair, as they said, and good, and kept a life 
 Pure from all stain of passion. Love I knew not, 
 Who was absorbed in duty ; and the Mother 
 Of gods and men, seeing my life more calm 
 Than human, hating my impassive heart. 
 Sent down her perfect son in wrath to earth 
 And bade him break me. 
 
 But when Eros came, 
 It did repent him of the task, for Love 
 Is kin to Duty. 
 
 And within my life 
 I knew miraculous change, and a soft flame 
 Wherefrom the snows of Duty flushed to rose. 
 And the chill icy flow of mind was turned 
 To a warm stream of passion. Long I lived 
 Not knowing what had been, nor recognized 
 A Presence walking with me through my life. 
 As if by night, his face and form concealed : 
 A gracious voice alone, which none but I 
 Might hear, sustained me, and its name was Love. 
 
 Not as the earthly loves which throb and flush 
 Round earthly shrines was mine, but a pure spirit. 
 Lovelier than all embodied love, more pure 
 And wonderful ; but never on his eyes 
 I looked, which still were hidden, and I knew not 
 The fashion of his nature ; for by night, 
 When visual eyes are blind, but the soul sees, 
 Came he, and bade me seek not to enquire 
 
Or whence he came or wherefore. Nor knew I 
 
 His name. And always ere the coming day, 
 
 As if he were the Sun -god, lingering 
 
 With some too well-loved maiden, he would rise 
 
 And vanish until eve. But all my being 
 
 Thrilled with ray fair unearthly visitant 
 
 To higher duty and more glorious meed 
 
 Of action than of old, for it was Love 
 
 That came to me, who might not know his name. 
 
 Thus, ever rapt by dreams divine, I knew 
 
 The scorn that comes from weaker souls, which miss, 
 
 Being too low of nature, the great joy 
 
 Revealed to others higher ; nay, my sisters, 
 
 Who being of one blood with me, made choice 
 
 To tread the lower ways of daily life. 
 
 Grew jealous of me, bidding me take heed 
 
 Lest haply 'twas some monstrous fiend I loved, 
 
 Such as in fable ofttimes sought and won 
 
 The innocent hearts of maids. Long time I held 
 
 My love too dear for doubt, who was so sweet. 
 
 And lovable. But at the last the sneers, 
 
 The mystery which hid him, the swift flight 
 
 Before the coming dawn, the shape concealed, 
 
 The curious girlish heart, these worked on me 
 
 With an unsatisfied thirst. Not his own words : 
 
 ' Dear, I am with thee only while I keep 
 
 My visage hidden ; and if thou once shouldst see 
 
 My face, I must forsake thee : the high gods 
 
 Link Love with Faith, and he withdraws himself 
 
 From the full gaze of Knowledge' — not even these 
 
Could cure me of my longing, or the fear 
 
 Those mocking voices worked : who fain would learn 
 
 The worst that might befall. 
 
 And one sad night, 
 Just as the day leapt from the hills and . brought 
 The hour when he should go : with tremulous hands, 
 Lighting my midnight lamp in fear, 1 stood 
 Long time uncertain, and at length turned round 
 And gazed upon my love. He lay asleep. 
 And oh, how fair he was ! The flickering light 
 Fell on the fairest of the gods, stretched out 
 In happy slumber. Looking on his lock? 
 Of gold, and faultless face and smile, and limbs 
 Made perfect, a great joy and trembling took me 
 Who was most blest of women, and in awe 
 And fear I stooped to kiss him. One warm drop — 
 From the full lamp within my trembling hand, 
 Or a glad tear from my too happy eyes. 
 Fell on his shoulder. 
 
 Then the god unclosed 
 His lovely eyes, and with great pity spake : 
 ' Farewell ! There is no Love except with Faith, 
 And thine is dead ! Farewell ! I come no more. ' 
 And straightway from the hills the full red sun 
 Leapt up, and as I clasped tny love again. 
 The lovely vision faded from his place, 
 And came no more. 
 
 Then 1, with breaking heart, 
 Knowing my life laid waste by my own hand. 
 Went forth and would have sought to hide my life 
 
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Within the stream of Death ; but Death came not 
 To aid me who not yet was meet for Death. 
 
 Then finding that Love came not back to me, 
 I thought that in the temples of the gods 
 Haply he dwelt, and so from fane to fane 
 I wandered over earth, and knelt in each, 
 Enquiring for my Love ; and I would ask 
 The priests and worshippers, ' Is this Love's shrine ? 
 Sirs, have you seen the god?' But never at all 
 I found him. For some answered, ' This is called 
 The Shrine of Knowledge ; ' and another, * This, 
 The Shrine of Beauty ; ' and another, ' Strength ; ' 
 And yet another, 'Youth.' And I would kneel 
 And say a prayer to my Love, and rise 
 And seek another. Long, o'er land and sea, 
 I wandered, till I was not young or fair. 
 Grown wretched, seeking my lost Love ; and last. 
 Came to the smiling, hateful shrine where ruled 
 The queen of earthly love and all delight, 
 Cypris, but knelt not there, but asked of one 
 Who seemed her priest, if Eros dwelt with her. 
 
 Then to the subtle-smiling goddess' self 
 They led me. She with hatred in her eyes : 
 'What! thou to seek for Love, who art grown thin 
 And pale with watching! He is not for thee. 
 What Love is left for such? Thou didst despise 
 Love, and didst dwell apart. Love sits within 
 The young maid's eyes, making them beautiful. 
 Love is for youth, and joy, and happiness ; 
 And not for withered lives. Ho ! bind her fast. 
 
c3. 
 
 
Take her and set her to the vilest tasks, 
 
 And bend her pride by solitude and tears, 
 
 Who will not kneel to me, but dares to seek 
 
 A disembodied love. My son has gone 
 
 And left thee for thy fault, and thou shalt know 
 
 The misery of my thralls.' 
 
 Then in her house 
 They bound me to hard tasks and vile, and kept 
 My life from honour, chained among her slaves 
 And lowest ministers, taking despite 
 And injury for food, and set to bind 
 Their wounds whom she had tortured, and to feed 
 The pitiful lives which in her prisons pent 
 Languished in hopeless pain. There is no sight 
 Of suflfering but I saw it, and was set 
 To succour it ; and all my woman's heart 
 Was torn with the ineffable miseries 
 Which love and life have worked ; and dwelt long time 
 In groanings and in tears. 
 
 And then, oh joy ! 
 Oh miracle ! once more at length again 
 I felt Love's arms around me, and the kiss 
 Of Love upon my lips, and in the chill 
 Of deepest prison cells, 'mid vilest tasks. 
 The glow of his sweet breath, and the warm touch 
 Of his invisible hand, and his sweet voice, 
 Ay, sweeter than of old, and tenderer, 
 Speak to me, pierce me, hold me, fold me round 
 With arms Divine, till all the sordid earth 
 Was hued like heaven, and Life's dull prison-house 
 

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Turned to a golden palace, and those low tasks 
 Grew to be higher works and nobler gains 
 Than any gains of knowledge, and at last 
 He whispered softly, ' Dear, unclose thine eyes, 
 Thou mayst look on me now. I go no more. 
 But am thine own for ever.' 
 
 Then with wings 
 Of gold we soared, I looking in his eyes, 
 Over yon dark broad river, and this dim land, 
 Scarce for an instant staying till we reached 
 The inmost courts of heaven. 
 
 But sometimes still 
 I come here for a little, and speak a word 
 Of peace to those who wait. The slow wheel turns. 
 The cycles round themselves and grow complete. 
 The world's year whitens to the harvest-tide, 
 And one word only am I sent to say 
 To those dear souls who wait here, or who now 
 Breathe earthly air — one universal word 
 To all things living, and the word is 'Love,'" 
 
 Then soared she visibly before my gaze. 
 And the heavens took her, and I knew my eyes 
 Had seen the soul of man, the deathless soul. 
 Defeated, struggling, purified, and blest. 
 
Then all the choir of happy waiting shades, 
 Heroes and queens, fair maidens and brave youths. 
 Swept by me, rhythmic, slow, as if they trod 
 Some unheard measure, passing where I stood 
 In fair procession, each with a faint smile 
 Upon the lip, signing "Farewell, oh shade! 
 It shall be well with thee, as 'tis with us, 
 If only thou art true. The world of Life, 
 The world of Death, are but opposing sides 
 Of one great orb, and the Light shines on both. 
 Oh, happy, happy shade ! Farewell ! Farewell ! " 
 And so they passed away. 
 
ON SIPYLUS 
 
 H me, ah. me ! on this high mountain peak, 
 Which far above the seething Lydian plains 
 Takes the first dawn-shaft, and the sunset keeps 
 When all the fields grow dark — I, Niobe, 
 A mother's heart, hid in a form of stone. 
 Stand all day in the vengeful sun -god's eye. 
 Stand all night in the cold gaze of the moon, 
 Who both long ages since conspiring, slew 
 My children, — I a childless mother now 
 Who was most blest, a living woman still, 
 Bereft of all, and yet who cannot die. 
 Ah day, ill-fated day, which wrecked my life ! 
 I wa.s the happy mother of strong sons. 
 Brave, beautiful, all in their bloom of age : 
 From him my first-born, now a bearded man. 
 Through the fair promise of imperfect youth, 
 To the slim stripling who had scarcely left 
 The women's chambers, on whose lip scant shade 
 Of budding manhood showed, I loved them all ; 
 All with their father's eyes, and that strange charm 
 Of rhythmic grace, and musical utterance 
 As when, in far-off Thebes, the enchanted wall 
 Rose perfect, to the music of his lyre. 
 
— 7 
 
 (^LICE ^A^E RS 
 
Who, seeing the vague trouble in my eyes, 
 
 Grew pale, and shuddered for no cause, and gazed 
 
 Chilled 'midst the blaze of sunlight. 
 
 Then I sought 
 To laugh my fears away, as one who feels 
 Some great transgression weigh on him, some load 
 Which will not be removed, but bears him down, 
 Though none else knows it, pressing on his heart. 
 But when the half unuttered thought grew dim 
 And my fear with it, suddenly a cry 
 Rose from the city street, and then the sound 
 Of measured hurrying feet, and looking forth 
 To where the youth had passed so late, in joy, 
 Came two who carried tenderly, with tears, 
 A boy's slight form. I had no need to look, 
 For all the mother rising in me knew 
 That 'twas my youngest born they bore ; I knew 
 What fate befell him — 'twas the vengeful sun. 
 And I alone was guilty, I, his mother, 
 Who being filled with impious pride, had brought 
 Death to my innocent child. I hurried down 
 The marble stair and met them as they came, 
 And laid him down, and kissed his lips and called 
 His name, yet knew that he was dead ; and all 
 His brothers stood regarding us with tears. 
 And would have soothed me with their loving words. 
 Me guilty, who were guiltless, oh, my sons ! 
 Till as I looked up from the corpse, — a cry 
 Of agony, — and then another fell 
 Struggling for life upon the earth, and then 
 
4^:^^ 
 
 — j^^ ■■•i^ 
 
 "41^ w 
 
Another, and another, till the last 
 
 Of all my stalwart boys, my life, my pride. 
 
 Lay dead upon the field, and the fierce sun 
 
 Frenzied my brain, and all distraught with woe 
 
 I to the palace tottered, while they bore 
 
 Slowly the comely corpses of my sons. 
 
 That day I dare not think of when they lay, 
 
 White shrouded, in the darkened palace rooms, 
 
 Like sculptured statues on a marble hearse. 
 
 How calm they looked and happy, my dear sons ! 
 
 There was no look of pain within their eyes. 
 
 The dear dead eyes which I their mother closed ; 
 
 Me miserable ! I saw the priests approach, 
 
 And ministers of death ; I saw my girls 
 
 Flung weeping on the brothers whom they loved. 
 
 I saw it all as in a dream. I know not 
 
 How often the dead night woke into day. 
 
 How often the hot day-time turned to night. 
 
 I did not shudder even to see the Sun 
 
 Which slew my sons ; but in the still, dead night. 
 
 When in that chill and lifeless place of death, 
 
 The cold, clear, cruel moonlight seemed to play 
 
 Upon the ranged corpses, and to mock 
 
 My mother's heart, and throw on each a hue 
 
 Of swift corruption ere its time, I knew 
 
 Some secret terror least the jealous gods 
 
 Might find some further dreadful vengeance still. 
 
 Taking what yet was left. 
 
 At set of sun 
 The sad procession to the place of graves 
 
Went with the rites of royal sepulture, 
 The high priest at its head, the nobles round 
 The fair white shrouded corpses, last of all 
 I went, the guilty one, my fair sweet girls 
 Clinging to me in tears ; but I, I shed not 
 A single tear — grief dried the fount of tears, 
 I had shed all mine. 
 
 Only o'ermastering fear 
 Held me of what might come. 
 
 When they were laid, 
 Oh, wretched me, my dear, my well-loved sons ! 
 Within the kingly tomb, the dying sun 
 Had set, and in his stead the rising moon 
 Behind some lofty mountain-peak concealed. 
 Filled all with ghastly twilight. 
 
As we knelt, 
 The people all withdrawn a little space, 
 I and my daughters in that place of death, 
 I lifted up my suppliant voice, and they 
 With sweet girl voices pure, and soaring hymn, 
 To the great Powers above. 
 
 But when at last 
 I heard my hollow voice pleading alone 
 And all the others silent, then I looked. 
 And on the tomb the cold malignant moon, 
 Bursting with pale chill beams of light, revealed 
 My fair girls kneeling mute and motionless. 
 Their dead eyes turned to the unpitying orb. 
 Their white lips which should offer prayer no more. 
 Such vengeance wreaked Phoebus and Artemis 
 Upon a too proud mother. But on me 
 Who only sinned no other punishment 
 They took, only the innocent lives I loved — 
 If any punishment, indeed, were more 
 Than this to one who had welcomed death. I think 
 My children happier far in death than I 
 Who live to muse on these things. When my girls 
 Were buried, I, my lonely palace gate 
 Leaving without a tear, sped hither in haste 
 To this high rock of Sipylus where erst 
 My father held his court ; and here, long years. 
 Summer and winter, stay I, day and night 
 Gazing towards the far-off plain of Thebes, 
 Wherein I was so happy of old time, 
 Wherein I sinned and suffered. 
 
isSS" 
 
Turned to stone 
 They thought me, and 'tis true the mother's heart 
 Which knows such grief as I knew, turns to stone. 
 And all her life ; and pitying Zeus, indeed. 
 Seeing my repentance, listened to my prayer 
 And left me seeming stone, but still the heart 
 Of the mother grows not hard, and year by year 
 When comes the summer with its cloudless skies. 
 And the high sun lights hill and plain by day. 
 And the moon, shining, silvers them by night. 
 My old grief, rising dew-like to my eyes. 
 Quickens my life with not unhappy tears. 
 And through my penitent and yearning heart 
 I feel bnce more the pulse of love and grief: 
 Love triumphing at last o'er Fate and Death, 
 Grief all divine and vindicating Love. 
 
ilBiiMiiWilSliia