« PreviousContinue »
Then let come what come may,
And left his coal all turn'd into gold
Let the sweet heavens endure,
Not close and darken above me Before I am quite quite sure
That there is one to love me; Then let come what come may To a life that has been so sad, I shall have had my day.
2. What, has he found my jewel out? For one of the two that rode at her side Bound for the Hall, I am sure was he: Bound for the Hall, and I think for a bride. Blithe would her brother's acceptance be. Maud could be gracious too, no doubt, To a lord, a captain, a padded shape, A bought commission, a waxen face, A rabbit mouth that is ever agapeBought? what is it he cannot buy? And therefore splenetic, personal, base, A wounded thing with a rancorous cry, At war with myself and a wretched race, Sick, sick to the heart of life, am I.
1. Birds in the high Hall-garden
When twilight was falling, Maud, Maud, Maud, Maud,
They were crying and calling.
2. Where was Maud ? in our wood;
And I, who else, was with her, Gathering woodland lilies,
Myriads blow together.
3. Birds in our woods sang
Ringing thro' the valleys, Maud is here, here, here
In among the lilies.
Last week came one to the county town,
I kiss'd her slender hand,
She took the kiss sedately, Maud is not seventeen,
But she is tall and stately
5. I to cry out on pride
Who have won her favor! O Mand were sure of Heaven
If lowliness could save her
4. I wish I could hear again The chivalrous battle-song That she warbled alone in her joy! I might persuade myself then She would not do herself this great wrong To take a wanton, dissolute boy For a man and leader of men.
6. I know the way she went
Home with her maiden posy, For her feet have touch'd the meadows
And left the daisies rosy.
Birds in the high Hall-garden
Were crying and calling to her, Where is Maud, Maud, Maud,
One is come to woo her.
Ah God, for a man with heart, head, hand,
8. Look, a horse at the door,
And little King Charles is snarling, Go back, my lord, across the moor,
You are not her darling.
And six feet two, as I think, he stands ;
I heard no sound where I stood
But the rivulet on from the lawn Sunnd itself on his breast and his hands.
Running down to my own dark wood; 2.
Or the voice of the long sea-wave as it swell'd
Now and then in the dim-gray dawn; Who shall call me ungentle, unfair,
But I look'd, and round, all round the house I be I long'd so heartily then and there
held To give him the grasp of fellowship;
The death-white curtain drawn; But while I past he was humming an air,
Felt a horror over me creep, Stopt, and then with a riding whip
Prickle my skin and catch my breath, Leisurely tapping a glossy boot,
Knew that the death-white curtain meant but sleep, And curving a contumelious lip,
Yet I shudder'd and thought like a fool of the sleep Gorgonized me from head to foot
of death. With a stony British stare.
XV. 3. Why sits he here in his father's chair?
So dark a mind within me dwells, That old man never comes to his place:
And I make myself such evil cheer, Shall I believe him ashamed to be seen?
That if I be dear to some one else, For only once, in the village street,
Then some one else may have much to fear; Last year, I caught a glimpse of his face,
But if I be dear to some one else, A gray old wolf and a lean.
Then I should be to myself more dear. Scarcely, now, would I call him a cheat;
Shall I not take care of all that I think, For then, perhaps, as a child of deceit,
Yea ev'n of wretched meat and drink, She might by a true descent be untrue ;
If I be dear,
If I be dear to some one else?
1. And fair without, faithful within,
This lump of earth has left his estate Mand to him is nothing akin:
The lighter by the loss of his weight; Some peculiar mystic grace
And so that he find what he went to seek, Made her only the child of her mother,
And fulsome Pleasure clog him, and drown And heap'd the whole inherited sin
His heart in the gross mud-honey of town, On that huge scapegoat of the race,
He may stay for a year who has gone for a week All, all upon the brother.
But this is the day when I must speak,
o this is the day! Peace, angry spirit, and let him be!
O beautiful creature, what am I Has not his sister smiled on me?
That I dare to look her way;
Think I may hold dominion sweet,
Lord of the pulse that is lord of her breast,
And dream of her beauty with tender dread, 1.
From the delicate Arab arch of her feet MAUD has a garden of roses
To the grace that, bright and light as the crest And lilies fair on a lawn;
of a peacock, sits on her shining head, There she walks in her state
And she knows it not: 0, if she knew it, And tends upon bed and bower
To know her beauty might half undo it. And thither I climb'd at dawn
I know it the one bright thing to save And stood by her garden gate;
My yet young life in the wilds of Time, A lion ramps at the top,
Perhaps from madness, perhaps from crime He is claspt by a passion-flower.
Perhaps from a selfish grave. 2.
2. Mand's own little oak-room (Which Maud, like a precious stone
What, if she were fasten'd to this fool lord, Set in the heart of the carven gloom,
Dare I bid her abide by her word ? Lights with herself, when alone
Should I love her so well if she She sits by her music and books,
Had given her word to a thing so low? And her brother lingers late
Shall I love her as well if she With a roystering company) looks
Can break her word were it even for me?
I trust that it is not so.
Catch not my breath, o clamorous heart,
I must tell her, or die.
Go not, happy day,
From the shining fielde, Now I thought she was kind
Go not, happy day, Only because she was cold.
Till the maiden yields.
Rosy is the West,
But now shine on, and what care I,
Who in this stormy gulf have found a psarl
The countercharm of space and hollow sky,
And do accept my madness and would die
To save from some slight shame one simpie girl.
Would die ; for sullen-seeming Death may give
More life to Love than is or ever was
In our low world, where yet 't is sweet to live.
Let no one ask me how it came to pass;
It seems that I am happy, that to me
A livelier emerald twinkles in the grass,
A purer sapphire melts into the sea.
Not die ; but live a life of truest breath,
And teach true life to fight with mortal wrongs.
O, why should Love, like men in drinking-songs, Rosy is the South,
Spice his fair banquet with the dust of death?
Make answer, Maud my bliss.
Maud made my Maud by that long lover's kiss,
Life of my life, wilt thou pot answer this ?
“The dusky strand of Death inwoven here
With dear Love's tie, makes Love himself more dear. 1. I have led her home, my love, my only friend.
8. There is none like her, none, And never yet so warmly ran my blood
Is that enchanted moan only the swell
or the long waves that roll in yonder bay! And sweetly, on and on
Aud hark the clock within, the silver knell Calming itself to the long-wish'd-for end,
of twelve sweet hours that past in bridal white, Full to the banks, close on the promised good.
And died to live, long as my pulses play;
But now by this' my love has closed her sight 2.
And given false death her hand, and stol'u away None like her, none.
To dreamful wastes where footless fancies dwell Just now the dry-tongued laurel's pattering talk Among the fancies of the golden day. Seem'd her light foot along the garden walk, May nothing there her maiden grace affright! And shook my heart to think she comes once more; Dear heart, I feel with thee the drowsy spell. But even then I heard her close the door,
My bride to be, my evermore delight, The gates of heaven are closed, and she is gone. My own heart's heart and ownest own farewell;
It is but for a little space I go 3.
And ye meanwhile far over moor and fell There is none like her, pone.
Beat to the noiseless music of the night!
Has our whole earth gone nearer to the glow Nor will be when our summers have deceased.
of your soft splendors that you look so bright! 0, art thou sighing for Lebanon In the long breeze that streams to thy delicious Beat, happy stars, timing with things below,
I have climb'd rearer out of lonely Hell.
Beat with my heart more blest than heart can tell
Blest, but for some dark undercurrent woe Dark cedar, tho' thy limbs have here increased,
That seems to draw-but it shall not be so
Let all be well, be well.
XIX. of her whose gentle will has changed my fate,
1. And made my life a perfumed altar-ilame ; And over whom thy darkness must have spread
Her brother is coming back to-night, With such delight as theirs of old, thy great
Breaking up my dream of delight. Forefathers of the thornless garden, there
My dream? do I dream of bliss !
O when did a morning shine
So rich in atonement as this And you fair stars that crown a happy day
For my dark dawning youth, Go in and out as if at merry play,
Darken'd watching a mother deciine Who am no more so all forlorn,
And that dead man at her heart and minc: As when it seem'd far better to be born
For who was left to watch her but I? To labor and the mattock-harden'd hand,
Yet so did I let my freshness die. Than nursed at ease and brought to understand
3. A sad astrology, the boundless plan That makes you tyrants in your iron skies,
I trust that I did not talk Innumerable, pitiless, passionless eyes,
To gentle Maud in our walk Cold tires, yet with power to burn and brand (For often in lonely wanderings His nothingness into man.
I have cursed him even to lifeless things)
That he plots against me still.
But I trust that I did not talk,
9. For, Maud, so tender and true, As long as my life endures I feel I shall owe you a debt, That I never can hope to pay; And if ever I should forget That I owe this debt to you And for your sweet sake to yours ; O then, what then shall I say?-If ever I should forget, May God make me more wretched Than ever I have been yet!
4. And Maud too, Maud was moved To speak of the mother she loved As one scarce less forlorn, Dying abroad and it seems apart From him who had ceased to share her heart, And ever mourning over the feud, The household Fury sprinkled with blood By which our houses are torn ; How strange was what she said, When only Maud and the brother Hang over her dying bed, That Maud's dark father and mine Had bound us one to the other, Betrothed us over their wine On the day when Maud was born; Seal'd her mine from her first sweet breath. Mine, mine by a right, from birth till death, Mine, mine-our fathers have sworn.
10. So now I have sworn to bury All this dead body of hate, I feel so free and so clear By the loss of that dead weight, That I should grow light-headed, I fear, Fantastically merry ; But that her brother comes, like a blight On my fresh hope, to the Hall to-night.
5. But the true blood spilt had in it a heat To dissolve the precious seal on a bond, That, if left wcancell’d, had been so sweet : And none of us thought of a something beyond, A desire that awoke in the heart of the child, As it were a duty done to the tomb, To be friends for her sake, to be reconciled ; And I was cursing them and my doom, And letting a dangerous thought run wild While often abroad in the fragrant gloom of foreign churches,-I see her there, Bright English lily, breathing a prayer To be friends, to be reconciled!
1. STRANGE, that I felt so gay, Strange that I tried to-das To beguile her melancholy; The Sultan, as we name him,She did not wish to blame himBut he vext her and perplext her With his worldly talk and folly: Was it gentle to reprove her For stealing out of view From a little lazy lover Who but claims her as his due ! Or for chilling his caresses By the coldness of her manners, Nay, the plainness of her dressee 8 Now I know her but in two, Nor can pronounce upon it If one should ask me whethe The habit, hat, and feather, Or the frock and gypsy bonnet Be the neater and completer; For nothing can be sweeter Than maiden Maud in either.
But then what a tint is he!
2. But to-morrow, if we live, Our ponderous squire will give A grand political dinner To half the squirelings near; And Maud will wear her jewels, And the bird o. prey will hover, And the titmouse hope to win her With his chirrup at her ear.
7. Yet Mand, altho' not blind To the faults of his heart and mind, I see she cannot but love him, And says he is rough but kind, And wishes me to approve him, And tells me, when she lay Sick once, with a fear of worse, That he left his wine and horses and play, Sat with her, read to her, night and day, And tended her like a nurse.
3. A grand political dinner To the men of many acres, A gathering of the Tory, A dinner and then a dance For the maids and marriage-makers, And every eye but mine will glana At Maud in all her glory.
8. Kind! but the death-bed desire Spurn'd by this heir of the liarRough but kind ? yet I know He has plotted against me in this,
For I am not invited,
All night have the roses heard
The flute, violin, bassoon ;
To the dancers dancing in tune;
And a hush with the setting moon.
4. I said to the lily, “There is but one
With whom she has heart to be gay. When will the dancers leave her alone ?
She is weary of dance and play." Now half to the setting moon are gone,
And half to the rising day; Low on the sand and loud on the stone The last wheel echoes away.
I said to the rose, “ The brief night goes
In babble and revel and wine.
For one that will never be thine ?
“For ever and ever, mine."
1. " The fault was mine, the fault was mine'Why am I sitting here so stunnd and still, Plucking the harmless wild-flower on the hill It is this guilty hand ! And there rises ever a passionate cry From underneath in the darkening landWhat is it, that has been done? O dawn of Eden bright over earth and sky, The fires of Hell brake out of thy rising sun, The fires of Hell and of Hate; For she, sweet soul, had hardly spoken a word, When her brother ran in his rage to the gate, He came with the babe-faced lord ; Heap'd on her terms of disgrace, And while she wept, and I strove to be cool, He fiercely gave me the lie, Till I with as fierce an anger spoke, And he struck me, madman, over the faca, Struck me before the languid fool, Who was gaping and grinning by: Struck for himself an evil stroke: Wrought for his house an irredeemable woe; For front to front in an hour we stood, And a million horrible bellowing echoes broke From the red-ribh'd hollow behind the wood, And thunder'd up into Heaven the Christless coda That must have life for a blow.
And the soul of the rose went into my blood,
As the music clash'd in the hall; And long by the garden lake I stood,
For I heard your rivulet fall From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood, Our wood, that is dearer than all;