Oldalképek
PDF
ePub
[ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][subsumed]

"Mariana in the moated grange."

MARIANA.

Measure for Measure. WITH blackest moss the flower-plots Were thickly crusted, one and all: The rusted nails fell from the knots That held the peach to the gardenwall. [strange : The broken sheds look'd sad and Unlifted was the clinking latch: Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange. She only said, “My life is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!" Her tears fell with the dews at even; Her tears fell ere the dews were dried :

She could not look on the sweet heaven, Either at morn or eventide.

After the flitting of the bats,

When thickest dark did trance the sky,

She drew her casement-curtain by, And glanced athwart the glooming flats. She only said, "The night is dreary,

He cometh not," she said;
She said, "I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!"

Upon the middle of the night,
Waking she heard the night-fowl

crow:

The cock sung out an hour ere light:

From the dark fen the oxen's low

Came to her: without hope of change, In sleep she seemed to walk forlorn, Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed

morn

About the lonely moated grange.

She only said, " The day is dreary,
He cometh not," she said;
She said, "I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!"

About a stone-cast from the wall

A sluice with blacken'd waters slept, And o'er it many, round and small, The cluster'd marish-mosses crept.

Hard by a poplar shook alway,

All silver-green with gnarled bark : For leagues no other tree did mark The level waste, the rounding gray.

9

She only said, “My life is dreary,

He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!"

And ever when the moon was low, And the shrill winds were up and away,

In the white curtain, to and fro,

She saw the gusty shadow sway. But when the moon was very low, And wild winds bound within their cell,

The shadow of the poplar fell
Upon her bed, across her brow.

She only said, "The night is dreary,
He cometh not," she said;
She said, "I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!"

All day within the dreamy house,

The doors upon their hinges creak'd; The blue fly sung in the pane; the [shriek'd, Behind the mouldering wainscot Or from the crevice peered about.

mouse

Old faces glimmer'd thro' the doors, Old footsteps trod the upper floors, Old voices called her from without.

She only said, "My life is dreary,
He cometh not," she said;
She said, "I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!

The sparrow's chirrup on the roof,

Which to the wooing wind aloof
The slow clock ticking, and the sound

The poplar made, did all confound Her sense; but most she loathed the hour

When the thick-moated sunbeam lay Athwart the chambers, and the day Was sloping toward his western bower. Then said she, "I am very dreary, He will not come," she said; She wept, "I am aweary, aweary, O God, that I were dead!"

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

A subtle, sudden flame,
By veering passion fann'd,

About thee breaks and dances;
When I would kiss thy hand,
The flush of anger'd shame

O'erflows thy calmer glances,
And o'er black brows drops down
A sudden-curved frown.
But when I turn away,
Thou, willing me to stay,

Wooest not, nor vainly wranglest;
But, looking fixedly the while,
All my bounding heart entanglest
In a golden-netted smile;
Then in madness and in bliss,
If my lips should dare to kiss
Thy taper fingers amorously,
Again thou blushest angerly;
And o'er black brows drops down
A sudden-curved frown.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

The citron-shadows in the blue :
By garden porches on the brim,
The costly doors flung open wide,
Gold glittering thro' lamplight dim,
And broider'd sofas on each side :
In sooth it was a goodly time,
For it was in the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.

Often, where clear-stemm'd platans guard

The outlet, did I turn away

The boat-head down a broad canal
From the main river sluiced, where all
The sloping of the moon-lit sward
Was damask-work, and deep inlay
Of braided blooms unmown, which
crept

Adown to where the water slept.
A goodly place, a goodly time,
For it was in the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.

A motion from the river won
Ridged the smooth level, bearing on
My shallop thro' the star-strown calm,
Until another night in night
I enter'd, from the clearer light,
Imbower'd vaults of pillar'd palm,
Imprisoning sweets, which as they
clomb
[dome
Heavenward, were stay'd beneath the
Of hollow boughs.-A goodly time,
For it was in the golden prime

Of good Haroun Alraschid.
Still onward; and the clear canal
Is rounded to as clear a lake.
From the green rivage many a fall
Of diamond rillets musical,

[blocks in formation]

In marvel whence that glory came
Upon me, as in sleep I sank
In cool soft turf upon the bank,
Entranced with that place and time,
So worthy of the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.
Thence thro' the garden I was drawn-
A realm of pleasance, many a mound,
And many a shadow-chequer'd lawn
Full of the city's stilly sound,
And deep myrrh-thickets blowing round
The stately cedar, tamarisks,
Thick rosaries of scented thorn,
Tall orient shrubs, and obelisks
Graven with emblems of the time,
In honor of the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.
With dazed vision unawares
From the long alley's latticed shade
Emerged, I came upon the great
Pavilion of the Caliphat.

Right to the carven cedarn doors,
Flung inward over spangled floors,
Broad-based flights of marble stairs
Ran up with golden balustrade,

After the fashion of the time,
And humor of the golden prime

Of good Haroun Alraschid.

The fourscore windows all alight
As with the quintessence of flame,
A million tapers flaring bright
From twisted silvers look'd to shame
The hollow-vaulted dark, and stream'd
Upon the mooned domes aloof
Hundreds of crescents on the roof
In inmost Bagdat, till there seem'd
Of night new-risen, that marvellous
time,

To celebrate the golden prime

Of good Haroun Alraschid.
Then stole I up, and trancedly
Gazed on the Persian girl alone,
Serene with argent-lidded eyes
Amorous, and lashes like to rays
Of darkness, and a brow of pearl
Tressed with redolent ebony,
In many a dark delicious curl,

Flowing beneath her rose-hued zone;

The sweetest lady of the time,
Well worthy of the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.

Six columns, three on either side,
Pure silver, underpropt a rich
Throne of the massive ore, from which

Down-droop'd, in many a floating fold,
Engarlanded and diaper'd
With inwrought flowers, a cloth of gold.
Thereon, his deep eye laughter-stirr'd
With merriment of kingly pride,

Sole star of all that place and time,
I saw him-in his golden prime,
THE GOOD HAROUN ALRASCHID!

ODE TO MEMORY.

I.

THOU who stealest fire, From the fountains of the past, To glorify the present; oh, haste, Visit my low desire! Strengthen me, enlighten me! I faint in this obscurity, Thou dewy dawn of memory.

2.

Come not as thou camest of late, Flinging the gloom of yesternight On the white day; but robed in soften'd light

Of orient state. Whilome thou camest with the morning mist,

Even as a maid, whose stately brow The dew-impearled winds of dawn have kiss'd,

When she, as thou, Stays on her floating locks the lovely freight [shoots Of overflowing blooms, and earliest Of orient green, giving safe pledge of fruits,

Which in wintertide shall star

The black earth will brilliance rare.

[blocks in formation]

Come forth I charge thee, arise, Thou of the many tongues, the myriad eyes! [ing vines Thou comest not with shows of flauntUnto mine inner eye, Divinest Memory!

Thou wert not nursed by the waterfall Which ever sounds and shines

A pillar of white light upon the wall Of purple cliffs, aloof descried: Come from the woods that belt the gray hill-side,

The seven elms, the poplars four That stand beside my father's door, And chiefly from the brook that loves Whilome thou camest with the morning To purl o'er matted cress and ribbed

mist,

3.

And with the evening cloud,

sand,

Or dimple in the dark of rushy coves,

Showering thy gleaned wealth into my Drawing into his narrow earthen urn,

open breast,

In every elbow and turn,

« ElőzőTovább »