Part 8 (1/2)
DISENCHANTMENT OF DEATH.
Hus.h.!.+ She is dead! Tread gently as the light Foots dim the weary room. Thou shalt behold.
Look:--In death's ermine pomp of awful white, Pale pa.s.sion of pulseless slumber virgin cold: Bold, beautiful youth proud as heroic Might-- Death! and how death hath made it vastly old.
Old earth she is now: energy of birth Glad wings hath fledged and tried them suddenly; The eyes that held have freed their narrow mirth; Their sparks of spirit, which made this to be, s.h.i.+ne fixed in rarer jewels not of earth, Far Fairylands beyond some silent sea.
A sod is this whence what were once those eyes Will grow blue wild-flowers in what happy air; Some weed with flossy blossoms will surprise, Haply, what summer with her affluent hair; Blush roses bask those cheeks; and the wise skies Will know her dryad to what young oak fair.
The chast.i.ty of death hath touched her so, No dreams of life can reach her in such rest;-- No dreams the mind exhausted here below, Sleep built within the romance of her breast.
How she will sleep! like musick quickening slow Dark the dead germs, to golden life caressed.
Low musick, thin as winds that lyre the gra.s.s, Smiting thro' red roots harpings; and the sound Of elfin revels when the wild dews gla.s.s Globes of concentric beauty on the ground; For showery clouds o'er tepid nights that pa.s.s The prayer in harebells and faint foxgloves crowned.
So, if she's dead, thou know'st she is not dead.
Disturb her not; she lies so lost in sleep: The too-contracted soul its sh.e.l.l hath fled: Her presence drifts about us and the deep Is yet unvoyaged and she smiles o'erhead:-- Weep not nor sigh--thou wouldst not have _her_ weep?
To principles of pa.s.sion and of pride, To trophied circ.u.mstance and specious law, Stale saws of life, with scorn now flung aside, From Mercy's throne and Justice would'st thou draw Her, Hope in Hope, and Chast.i.ty's pale bride, In holiest love of holy, without flaw?
The anguish of the living merciless,-- Mad, bitter cruelty unto the grave,-- Wrings the dear dead with tenfold heart's distress, Earth chaining love, bound by the lips that rave.
If thou hast sorrow let thy sorrow bless That power of death, of death our selfless slave.
”Unjust?”--He is not! for hast thou not all, All that thou ever hadst when this dull clay So heartless, blasted now, flushed spiritual, A restless va.s.sal of Earth's night and day?
This hath been thine and is; the cosmic call Hath disenchanted that which might not stay.
_Thou_ unjust!--bar not from its high estate,-- Won with what toil thro' devastating cares: What bootless battling with the violent Fate; What mailed endeavor with resistless years;-- That soul:--whole-hearted granted once thy mate, Heaven only loaned, return it not with tears!
THE THREE URGANDAS.
Cast on sleep there came to me Three Urgandas; and the sea In lost lands of Briogne Sounded moaning, moaning: Cloudy clad in awful white; And each face a lucid light Rayed and blossomed out of night,-- And a wind was groaning.
In my sleep I saw them rest, Each a long hand at her breast, A soft flame that lulls the West;-- And the sea was moaning, moaning;-- Hair like h.o.a.rded ingots rolled Down white shoulders glossy gold, Streaks of molten moonlight cold,-- And a wind was groaning.
Rosy 'round each high brow bent Four-fold starry gold that sent Barbs of fire redolent;-- And the sea was moaning, moaning;-- 'Neath their burning crowns their eyes Burned like southern stars the skies Rock in shattered storm that flies,-- And a wind was groaning.
Wisdom's eyes of lurid dark; And each red mouth like a spark Flashed and laughed off care and cark,-- And the sea was moaning, moaning;-- Mouths for song and lips to kiss; Lips for hate and mouths to hiss; Lips that fas.h.i.+oned h.e.l.l or bliss,-- And the wind was groaning.
Tall as stately virgins dead, Tapers lit at feet and head, 'Round whom Latin prayers are said,-- And the sea was moaning, moaning;-- Or as vampire women, who, Buried beauties, rise and woo Youths whose blood they suck like dew,-- And a wind was groaning.
Then the west one said to me: ”Thou hast slept thus holily While seven sands ran secretly.”-- And the sea was moaning, moaning;-- ”Earth hath served thee like a slave, Serving us who found thee brave, Fearless of or life or grave.”-- And a wind was groaning.
”Know!”--she smote my brow; a pain, Riddling arrows, rent my brain, Ceased and earth fell, some vast strain;-- And the sea was moaning, moaning;-- Then I understood all thought; What was life the spirit fraught; Love and hate; how worlds were wrought:-- And a wind was groaning.