Part 5 (1/2)

For such it is, the marriage of true minds, Each in each sanction finds; So if her beauty lift her out of thought Whither man's to be brought To wors.h.i.+p her perfection on his knees, So in his strength she sees Self glorified, and two make one clear orb Whereinto all rays absorb Which stream from G.o.d and unto G.o.d return.-- So, as he fared, I yearn To be, and serve my years of pain and loss 'Neath my walled Ilios, With my eyes ever fixt to where, a star, Thou and thy sisters are, Helen and Beatrice, with thee embraced, Hands in thy hands, and arms about thy waist.

_1911-12._

HYPSIPYLE

Queen of the shadows, Maid and Wife, Twifold in essence, as in life, The lamp of Death, the star of Birth, Half cradled and half mourned by Earth, By h.e.l.l half won, half lost! aid me To sing thy fond Hypsipyle, Thy bosom's mate who, unafraid, Renounced for thee what part she had In sun and wind upon the hill, In dawn about the mere, in still Woodlands, in kiss of lapping wave, In laughter, in love--all this she gave!-- And shared thy dream-life, visited The sunless country of the dead, There to abide with thee, their Queen, In that gray region, shadow-seen By them that cast no shadows, yet Themselves are shadows. Nor forget, Kore, her love made manifest To thee, familiar of her breast And partner of her whispering mouth.

Thee too, Our Lady of the South, Uranian Kypris, I invoke, Regent of starry s.p.a.ce, with stroke Of splendid wing, in whose white wake Stream those who, filled with thee, forsake Their clinging shroudy clots, and rise, Lover and loved, to thy pure skies, To thy blue realm! O lady, touch My lips with rue, for she loved much.

What poet in what cloistered nook, Indenting in what roll of a book His rhymes, can voice the tides of love?

Nay, thrilling lark, nay, moaning dove, The nightingale's full-charged throat That cheereth now, and now doth gloat, And now recordeth bitter-sweet Longing, too wise to image it: These be your minstrels, lovers! Choose From their winged choir your urgent Muse; Let her your speechless joys relate Which men with words sophisticate, Striving by reasons make appear To head what heart proclaims so clear To heart; as if by wit to wis What mouth to mouth tells in a kiss, Or in their syllogisms dry Freeze a swift glance's cogency.

Nay, but the heart's so music-fraught, Music is all in love, words naught.

One heart's a rote, with music stored Though mute; but two hearts make a chord Of piercing music. One alone Is nothing: two make the full tone.

I

On Enna's uplands, on a lea Between the mountains and the sea, Shadowed anon by wandering cloud, Or flickering wings of birds a-crowd, And now all golden in the sun, See Kore, see her maidens run Hither and thither through those hours Of dawn among the wide-eyed flowers, While gentian, crocus, asphodel (With rosy star in each white bell), Anemone, blood-red with rings Of paler fire, that plant that swings A crimson cl.u.s.ter in the wind They pluck, or sit anon to bind Of these earth-stars a coronet For their smooth-tressed Queen, who yet Strays with her darling interlaced, Hypsipyle the grave, the chaste-- Her whose gray shadow-life with his Who singeth now for ever is.

She, little slim thing, Kore's mate, Child-faced, gray-eyed, of sober gait, Of burning mind and pa.s.sion pent To image-making, ever went Where wonned her Mistress; for those two By their hearts' grace together grew, The one to need, the one to give (As women must if they would live, Who substance win by waste of self And only spend to h.o.a.rd their pelf: ”O heart, take all of mine!” ”O heart, That which thou tak'st of thee is part-- No robbery therefore: mine is thine, Take then!”): so she and Proserpine Intercommunion'd each bright day, And when night fell together lay Cradled in arms, or cheek to cheek Whispered the darkness out. Thou meek And gentle vision! let me tell Thy beauties o'er I love so well: Thy sweet low bosom's rise and fall, Pulsing thy heart's clear madrigal; Or how the blue beam from thine eyes Imageth all love's urgencies; Thy lips' frail fragrance, as of flowers Remembered in penurious hours Of winter-exile; of thy brow, Not written as thy breast of snow With love's faint charact'ry, for his wing Leaves not the heart long! Last I sing Thy thin quick fingers, in whose pleaching Lieth all healing, all good teaching-- Wherewith, touching my discontent, I know how thou art eloquent!

Remember'd joy, Hypsipyle!

Now may that serve to comfort me, While I, O Maiden dedicate, Seek voice for singing thy gray Fate!

Now, as they went, one heart in two, Brusht to the knees by flowers, by dew Anointed, by the wind caressed, By the light kissed on eyes and breast, 'Twas Kore talked; Hypsipyle Listened, with eyes far-set, for she Of speech was frugal, voicing low And rare her heart's deep underflow-- Content to lie, like fallow sweet For rain or sun to cherish it, Or scattered seed substance to find In her deep-funded, quiet mind.

And thus the G.o.ddess: ”Blest art thou, Hypsipyle, who canst not know Until the hour strikes what must come To pa.s.s! But I foresee the doom And stay to meet it. Even here The place, and now the hour!” Then fear Took her who spake so fearless, cold Threaded her thronging veins--behold!

A hand on either shoulder stirs That slim, sweet body close to hers, And need fires need till, lip with lip, They seal and sign their fellows.h.i.+p, While Kore, G.o.dhead all forgot, Clings whispering, ”Child, leave me not Whenas to darkness and the dead I go!” And clear the answer sped From warm mouth murmuring kiss and cheer, ”Never I leave thee, O my dear!”

Thereafter stand they beatingly, Not speaking; and the hour draws nigh.

And all the land shows pa.s.sing fair, Fair the broad sea, the living air, The misty mountain-sides, the lake Flecked blue and purple! To forsake These, and those bright flower-gatherers Scattered about this land of theirs, That stoop or run, that kneel to pick, That cry each other to come quick And see new treasure, unseen yet!

Remembered joy--ah, how forget!

But mark how all must come to pa.s.s As was foreknowledged. In the gra.s.s Whereas the G.o.ddess and her mate Stood, one and other, prompt for fate-- Listless the first and heavy-eyed, Astrain the second--she espied That strange white flower, unseen before, With chalice pale, which thin stalk bore And swung, as hanging by a hair, So fine it seemed afloat in air, Unlinkt and wafted for the feast Of some blest mystic, without priest Or acolyte to tender it: Whereto the maid did stoop and fit Her hand about its silken cup To close it, that her mouth might sup The honey-drop within. The bloom Saw Kore then, and knew her doom Foretold in it; and stood in trance Fixed and still. No nigromance Used she, but read the fate it bore In seedless womb and petals frore.

Chill blew the wind, waiting stood She, Waiting her mate, Hypsipyle.

Then in clear sky the thunder tolled Sudden, and all the mountains rolled The dreadful summons round, and still Lay all the lands, only the rill Made tinkling music. Once more drave Peal upon peal--and lo! a grave Yawned in the Earth, and gus.h.i.+ng smoke Belched out, as driven, and hung, and broke With sullen puff; like tongues the flame Leapt following. Thence Adoneus came, Swart-bearded king, with iron crown'd, In iron mailed, his chariot bound About with iron, holding back Amain two steeds of glistering black And eyeb.a.l.l.s white-rimmed fearfully, And nostrils red, and crests flying free; Who held them pawing at the verge, Tossing their spume up, as the surge Flung high against some seaward bluff.

Nothing he spake, or smooth or gruff, But drave his errand, gazing down Upon the Maid, whose blown back gown Revealed her maiden. Still and proud Stood she among her nymphs, unbowed Her comely head, undimmed her eye, Inseparate her lips and dry, Facing his challenge of her state, Neither denying, nor desperate, Pleading no mercy, seeing none, Her wild heart masked in face of stone.

But they, her bevy, cl.u.s.tered thick As huddled sheep, set their eyes quick, And held each other, hand or waist, Paling or flus.h.i.+ng as fear raced Thronging their veins--they knew not, they, The gathered fates that broke this day,

And all the land seemed pa.s.sing fair To one who knew, and waited there.

”G.o.ddess and Maid,” then said the King, ”Long have I sought this day should bring An end of torment. Know me thou G.o.d postulant, with whom below A world awaits her queen, while here I seek and find one without peer; Nor deem her heedless nor unschooled In what in Heaven is writ and ruled.

Decreed of old my bride-right was, Decreed thy Mother's pain and loss, Decreed thy loathing, and decreed That which thou shunnest to be thy need; For thou shalt love me, Lady, yet, Though little liking now, and fret Of jealous care shall grave thy heart And draw thee back when time's to part-- If fond Demeter have her will Against thine own.”

The Maid stood still And guarded watched, and her proud eyes'

Scrutiny bade his own advise Whether indeed their solemn stare Saw Destiny and read it there Beyond her suitor, or within Her own heart heard the message ring.

Awhile she gazed: her stern aspect, Young and yet fraught with G.o.dhead, checkt Both Him who claimed, and her who'd cling, And them who wondered. ”O great King,”

She said, and mournful was her crying As when night-winds set pine-trees sighing, ”King of the folk beyond the tide Of sleep, behold thy chosen bride Not shunning thee, nor seeking. Take That which G.o.ds neither mar nor make, But only They, the Three, who spin The threads which hem and mesh us in, Both G.o.ds and men, till she who peers The longest cuts them with her shears.

Take, take, Adoneus, and take her, My fosterling.”

Then He, ”O star Of Earth, O Beacon of my days, Light of my nights, whose beamy rays Shall pierce the foggy cerement Wherein my dead grope and lament Beyond all loss the loss of light, Come! and be pleasant in my sight This thy beloved. Perchance she too Shall find a suitor come to woo; For love men leave not with their bones-- That is the soul's, and half atones And half makes bitterer their loss, Remembering what their fortune was.”

Trembling Hypsipyle uplift Her eyes towards the hills, where swift The shadows flew, but no more fleet Than often she with flying feet And flying raiment, she with these Her mates, whom now estranged she sees-- As if the shadow-world had spread About her now, and she was dead-- Her mates no more! cut off by fear From these two fearless ones. A tear Welled up and hovered, hung a gem Upon her eyelid's dusky hem, As raindrops linkt and strung arow Broider with stars the winter bough.

This was her requiem and farewell To them, thus rang she her own knell; Nor more gave she, nor more asked they, But took and went the fairy way.