I made my dagger sharp and bright. I curl'd and comb'd his comely head, O the Earl was fair to see! TO WITH THE FOLLOWING POEM. I SEND you here a sort of allegory, That doat upon each other, friends to man, Moulded by God, and temper'd with the (tears Of angels to the perfect shape of man. THE PALACE OF ART. I BUILT my soul a lordly pleasure-house, Wherein at ease for aye to dwell. I said,,,O Soul, make merry and carouse, Dear soul, for all is well." A huge crag-platform, smooth as burnish'd (brass, I chose. The ranged ramparts bright Thereon I built it firm. Of ledge or shelf And while the world runs round and Four courts I made, East, West and South (and North, In each a squared lawn, wherefrom The golden gorge of dragons spouted forth A flood of fountain-foam. And round the cool green courts there ran (a row Of cloisters, branch'd like mighty woods, Echoing all night to that sonorous flow Of spouted fountain-floods. And round the roofs a gilded gallery That lent broad verge to distant lands, Far as the wild swan wings, to where the sky Dipt down to sea and sands. From those four jets four currents in one (swell Across the mountain stream❜d below And high on every peak a statue seem'd A cloud of incense of all odour steam'd So that she thought, "And who shall gaze (upon My palace with unblinded eyes, While this great bow will waver in thes And that sweet incense rise?" sun, Well-pleased, from room to room. Full of great rooms and small the palace (stood, All various, each a perfect whole From living Nature, fit for every mood Ang change of my still soul. For some were hung with arras green and (blue, Showing a gaudy summer-morn. Where with puff'd cheek the belted hunter (blew His wreathed bugle-horn. Or in a clear-wall'd city on the set, Or thronging all one porch of Paradise, Or mythic Uther's deeply-wounded son One seem'd all dark and red -a tract of Or hollowing one hand against his ear, (sand, And some one pacing there alone, Who paced for ever in a glimmering land, Lit with a low large moon. One show'd an iron coast and angry waves. You seem'd to hear them climb and fall And roar rock-thwarted under bellowing (caves, Beneath the windy wall. And one, a full-fed river winding slow By herds upon an endless plain, And one, the reapers at their sultry-toil. And one, a foreground black with stones (and slags, Beyond, a line of heights, and higher All barr'd with long white cloud the scorn(ful crags, And highest, snow and fire. And one, an English home (pour'd gray twilight Ön dewy pastures, dewy trees, Softer than sleep all things in order (stored, To list a foot-fall, ere he saw The wood-nymph, stay'd the Ausonian king (to hear Of wisdom and of law. Or over hills with peaky tops engrail'd, And many a tract of palm and rice, The throne of Indian Cama slowly sail'd, A summer fann'd with spice. Or sweet Europa's mantle blue unclasp'd, From off her shoulder backward borne: From one hand droop'd a crocus: one hand grasp'd The mild bull's golden horn. Or else flushed Ganymede, his rosy thigh Half-buried in the Eagle's down, Sole as a flying star shot thro' the sky Above the pillar'd town. Nor these alone: but every legend fair Which the supreme Caucasian mind Carved out of Nature for itself, was there, Not less than life, design'd. The royal dais round. For there was Milton like a seraph strong, Beside him Shakespeare bland and mild; And there the world-worn Dante grasp'd (his song, And somewhat grimly smiled. And there the Ionian father of the rest; A million wrinkles carved his skin A hundred winters snow'd upon his breast From cheek and throat and chin. Above, the fair hall-ceiling stately-set Many an arch high up did lift, Below was all mosaic choicely plann'd Of this wide world, the times of every land The people here, a beast of burden slow, Toil'd onward, prick'd with goads and (stings; Here play'd, a tiger, rolling to and fro The heads and crowns of kings; Here rose, an athlete, strong to break or bind All force in bonds that might endure, And here once more like some sick man de(clined, And trusted any cure. But over these she trod: and those great (bells Began to chime. She took her throne She sat betwixt the shining Oriels, To sing her songs alone. And thro' the topmost Oriels' coloured flame ; The first of those who know. And all those names, that in their motion (were Full-welling fountain-heads of change, Betwixt the slender shafts were blazon'd fair In diverse raiment strange: Thro' which the lights, rose, amber, eme(rald, blue, eyes, Flush'd in her temples and her And from her lips, as morn from Memnon, (drew Rivers of melodies. No nightingale delighteth to prolong, More than my soul to hear her echo'd song Joying to feel herself alive, Crown'd dying day with stars, Making sweet close of his delicious toilsLit light in wreaths and anadems, And pure quintessences of precious oils In hollow'd moons of gems, To mimic heaven; and clapt her hands and (cried, I marvel if my still delight In this great honse so royal-rich, and wide, Be flatter'd to the height. "O all things fair to sate my various eyes! O shapes and hues that please me well! O silent faces of the Great and Wise, My Gods, with whom I dwell! O God-like isolation which art mine, I can but count thee perfect gain, What time I watch the darkening droves of (swine That range on yonder plain. In filthy sloughs they roll a prurient skin, They graze and wallow, breed and sleep; And oft some brainless devil enters in, And drives them to the deep." "I take possession of man's mind and deed. * * * Full oft the riddle of the painful earth And so she throve and prosper'd: so three (years She prosper'd: on the fourth she fell, Like Herod, when the shout was in his ears, Struck thro' with pangs of hell. Lest she should fail and perish utterly, Lord over Nature, Lord of the visible earth, The abysmal deeps of Personality, Lord of the senses five; Communing with herself: All these are (mine, And let the world have peace or wars, 'Tis one to me." She when young night (divine Plagued her with sore despair. When she would think, where'er she turn'd (her sight, The airy hand confusion wrought, Wrote,,Mene, mene," and divided quite The kingdom of her thought. Deep dread and loathing of her solitude Fell on her, from which mood was born Scorn of herself; again, from out that mood Laughter at her self-scorn. What! is not this my place of strength," (she said. "My spacious mansion built for me, Whereof the strong foundation-stones were (laid Since my first memory?" But in dark corners of her palace stood And horrible nightmares. And hollow shades enclosing hearts of flame, That stood against the wall. A spot of dull stagnation, without light Or power of movement, seem'd my soul, Mid onward-sloping motions infinite Making for one sure goal. A still salt pool, lock'd in with bars of sand; Left on the shore; that hears all night The plunging seas draw backward from the (land Their moon-led waters white. A star that with the choral starry dance Join'd not, but stood, and standing saw The hollow orb of moving Circumstance Roll'd round by one fix'd law. Back on herself her serpent pride had curl'd. "No voice," she shriek'd in that lone hall, No voice breaks thro' the stillness of this (world: One deep, deep silence all!" She,mouldering with the dull earth's moul(dering sod, Inwrapt tenfold in slothful shame. Lost to her place and name; Shut up as in a crumbling tomb, girt round As in strange lands a traveller walking slow, A little before moon-rise hears the low And knows not if it be thunder or a sound A new land, but I die." She howl'd aloud,,,I am on fire within. So when four years were wholly finished, "Yet pull not down my palace towers, that (are So lightly, beautifully built : Perchance I may return with others there When I have purged my guilt.' LADY CLARA VERE DE VERE. LADY Clara Vere de Vere, Of me you shall not win renown: You thought to break a country heart For pastime, ere you went to town. At me you smiled, but unbeguiled I was the snare, and I retired: The daughter of a hundred Earls, You are not one to be desired. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, I know you proud to bear your name, Your pride is yet no mate for mine, Too proud to care from whence I came. Nor would I break for your sweet sake A heart that doats on truer charms. A simple maiden in her flower Is worth a hundred coats of-arms. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, Some meeker pupil you must find, I could not stoop to such a mind. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, You put strange memories in my head. Not thrice your branching limes have blown Since I beheld young Laurence dead. Oh your sweet eyes, your low replies: A great enchantress you may be ; But there was that across his throat Which you had hardly cared to see. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, When thus he met his mother's view, She had the passions of her kind, She spake some certain truths of you. Indeed I heard one bitter word That scarce is fit for you to hear; Her manners had not that repose Which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, There stands a spectre in your hall: The guilt of blood is at your door: You changed a wholesome heart to gall. You held your course without remorse. To make him trust his modest worth, And, last, you fix'd a vacant stare, And slew him with your noble birth. Trust me, Clara Vere de Vere, From yon blue heavens above us bent Smile at the claims of long descent. I know you, Clara Vere de Vere, You pine among your halls and towers: The languid light of your proud eyes Is wearied of the rolling hours. In glowing health, with boundless wealth, But sickening of a vague disease, You know so ill to deal with time, You needs must play such pranks as these. Clara, Clara, Vere de Vere, If Time be heavy on your hands, Are there no beggars at your gate. Nor any poor about your lands? Oh! teach the orphan-boy to read, Or teach the orphan girl to sew, Pray Heaven for a human heart, And let the foolish yeoman go. THE MAY QUEEN. You must wake and call me early, call me (early, mother dear; To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all (the glad New-year; Of all the glad New-year, mother, the mad(dest merriest day; For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm (to be Queen o' the May, There's many a black black eye, they say, (but none so bright as mine; There's Margaret and Mary,there's Kate and (Caroline: But none so fair as little Alice in all the (land they say, So I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm (to be Queen o' the may. I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I (shall never wake, If you do not call me loud when the day be(gins to break: But 1 must gather knots of flowers, and buds (and garlands gay, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, (I'm to be Queen o' the May. As I came up the valley whom think ye (should I see, But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath (the hazel-tree? He thought of that sharp look, mother, I (gave him yesterday, But I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, (I'm to be Queen o' the May. He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was (all in white, And I ran by him without speaking, like a (flash of light. They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not (what they say, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm (to be Queen o' the May. They say he's dying all for love, but that can (never be: |