songs from the mountains-第11章
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The flower of a celestial Spring …
A tenfold splendour； dwells。
Yea； in my dream of fall and brook
By far sweet forests furled；
I see that light for which I look
In vain through all the world …
The glory of a larger sky
On slopes of hills sublime；
That speak with God and morning； high
Above the ways of Time！
Page： 157
Ah！ haply in this sphere of change
Where shadows spoil the beam；
It would not do to climb that range
And test my radiant Dream。
The slightest glimpse of yonder place；
Untrodden and alone；
Might wholly kill that nameless grace；
The charm of the unknown。
And therefore； though I look and long；
Perhaps the lot is bright
Which keeps the river of the song
A beauty out of sight。
Page： 158
THE CURSE OF MOTHER FLOOD
Wizened the wood is； and wan is the way through it；
White as a corpse is the face of the fen；
Only blue adders abide in and stray through it …
Adders and venom and horrors to men。
Here is the ‘‘ghost of a garden'' whose minister
Fosters strange blossoms that startle and scare。
Red as man's blood is the sun that； with sinister
Flame； is a menace of hell in the air。
Wrinkled and haggard the hills are … the jags of them
Gape like to living and ominous things：
Storm and dry thunder cry out in the crags of them …
Fire； and the wind with a woe in its wings。
Page： 159
Never a moon without clammy…cold shroud on it
Hitherward comes； or a flower…like star！
Only the hiss of the tempest is loud on it …
Hiss； and the moan of a bitter sea bar。
Here on this waste； and to left and to right of it；
Never is lisp or the ripple of rain：
Fierce is the daytime and wild is the night of it；
Flame without limit and frost without wane！
Trees half alive； with the sense of a curse on them；
Shudder and shrink from the black heavy gale；
Ghastly； with boughs like the plumes of a hearse on them：
Barren of blossom and blasted with bale。
Under the cliff that stares down to the south of it …
Back by the horns of a hazardous hill；
Dumb is the gorge with a grave in the mouth of it
Still； as a corpse in a coffin is still。
Page： 160
Never there hovers a hope of the Spring by it …
Never a glimmer of yellow and green：
Only the bat with a whisper of wing by it
Flits like a life out of flesh and unseen。
Here are the growths that are livid and glutinous；
Speckled； and bloated with poisonous blood：
This is the haunt of the viper…breed mutinous：
Cursed with the curse of weird Catherine Flood。
He that hath looked on it … hurried aghast from it；
Hair of him frozen with horror straightway；
Chased by a sudden strange pestilent blast from it …
Where is the speech of him … what can he say？
Hath he not seen the fierce ghost of a hag in it？
Heard maledictions that startle the stars？
Dumb is his mouth as a mouth with a gag in it …
Mute is his life as a life within bars。
Page： 161
Just the one glimpse of that grey； shrieking woman there
Ringed by a circle of furnace and fiend！
He that went happy and healthy and human there …
Where shall the white leper fly to be cleaned？
Here； in a pit with indefinite doom on it；
Here； in the fumes of a feculent moat；
Under an alp with inscrutable gloom on it；
Squats the wild witch with a ghoul at her throat！
Black execration that cannot be spoken of …
Speech of red hell that would suffocate Song；
Starts from this terror with never a token of
Day and its loveliness all the year long。
Sin without name to it … man never heard of it …
Crime that would startle a fiend from his lair；
Blasted this Glen； and the leaf and the bird of it …
Where is there hope for it； Father； O where？
Page： 162
Far in the days of our fathers； the life in it
Blossomed and beamed in the sight of the sun：
Yellow and green and the purple were rife in it；
Singers of morning and waters that run。
Storm of the equinox shed no distress on it；
Thunder spoke softly； and summer…time left
Sunset's forsaken bright beautiful dress on it …
Blessing that shone half the night in the cleft。
Hymns of the highlands … hosannas from hills by it；
Psalms of great forests made holy the spot：
Cool were the mosses and clear were the rills by it …
Far in the days when the Horror was not。
Twenty miles south is the strong； shining Hawkesbury …
Spacious and splendid； and lordly with blooms。
There； between mountains magnificent； walks bury
Miles of their beauty in green myrtle glooms。
Page： 163
There； in the dell； is the fountain with falls by it …
Falls； and a torrent of summering stream：
There is the cave with the hyaline halls by it …
Haunt of the echo and home of the dream。
Over the hill； by the marvellous base of it；
Wanders the wind with a song in its breath
Out to the sea with the gold on the face of it …
Twenty miles south of the Valley of Death。
Page： 164
ON A SPANISH CATHEDRAL
Note：Every Expression in these stanza's may fairly be claimed by the Hon。W。B。Dalley
DEEP under the spires of a hill； by the feet of the thunder…cloud trod；
I pause in a luminous； still； magnificent temple of God！
At the steps of the altar august … a vision of angels in stone …
I kneel； with my head to the dust； on the floors by the seraphim known。
No father in Jesus is near； with the high； the compassionate face；
Page： 165
But the glory of Godhead is here … its presence transfigures the place！
Behold in this beautiful fane； with the lights of blue heaven impearled；
I think of the Elders of Spain； in the deserts … the wilds of the world！
I think of the wanderers poor who knelt on the flints and the sands；
When the mighty and merciless Moor was lord of the Lady of Lands。
Where the African scimitar flamed； with a swift； bitter death in its kiss；
The fathers； unknown and unnamed； found God in cathedrals like this！
The glow of His Spirit … the beam of His blessing … made lords of the men
Page： 166
Whose food was the herb of the stream； whose roof was the dome of the den。
And； far in the hills by the sea； these awful hierophants prayed
For Rome and its temples to be … in a temple by Deity made。
Who knows of their faith … of its power？ Perhaps； with the light in their eyes；
They saw； in some wonderful hour； the marvel of centuries rise！
Perhaps in some moment supreme； when the mountains were holy and still；
They dreamed the magnificent dream that came to the monks of Seville！
Surrounded by pillars and spires whose summits shone out in the glare
Page： 167
Of the high； the omnipotent fires； who knows what was seen by them there？
Be sure； if they saw； in the noon of their faith； some ineffable fane；
They looked on the church like a moon dropped down by the Lord into Spain。
And the Elders who shone in the time when Christ over Christendom beamed
May have dreamed at their altars sublime the dream that their fathers had dreamed；
By the glory of Italy moved … the majesty shining in Rome …
They turned to the land that they loved； and prayed for a church in their home；
And a soul of unspeakable fire descended on them； and they fought
Page： 168
And laboured a life for the spire and tower and dome of their thought！
These grew under blessing and praise； as morning in summertime grows …
As Troy in the dawn of the days to the music of Delphicus rose。
In a land of bewildering light； where the feet of the season are Spring's；
They worked in the day and the night； surrounded by beautiful things。
The wonderful blossoms in stone … the flower and leaf of the Moor；
On column and cupola shone； and gleamed on the glimmering floor。
In a splendour of colour and form； from the marvellous African's hands
Page： 169
Yet vivid and shining and warm； they planted the Flower of the Lands。
Inspired by the patience supreme of the mute； the magnificent past；
They toiled till the dome of their dream in the firmament blossomed at last！
Just think of these men … of their time … of the days of their deed； and the scene！
How touching their zeal … how sublime their suppression of self must have been！
In a city yet hacked by the sword and scarred by the flame of the Moor；
They started the work of their Lord； sad； silent； and solemnly poor。
These fathers； how little they thought of themselves； and how much of the days
Page： 170
When the children of men would be brought to pray in their temple； and praise！
Ah！ full of the radiant； still； heroic old life that has flown；
The merciful monks of Seville toiled on； and died bare and unknown。
The music； the colour； the gleam of their mighty cathedral will be
Hereafter a luminous dream of the heaven I never may see；
To a spirit that suffers and seeks for the calm of a competent creed；
This temple； whose majesty speaks； becomes a religion indeed；
The passionate lights … the intense； the ineffable beauty of sound …
Page： 171
Go straight to the heart through the sense； as a song would of seraphim crowned。
And lo！ by these altars august； the life that is highest we live；
And are filled with the infinite trust and the peace that the world cannot give。
They have passed； have the elders of time … they have gone； but the work of their hands；
Pre…eminent； peerless； sublime； like a type of eternity stands！
They are mute； are the fathers who made this church in the century dim；
But the dome with their beauty arrayed remains； a perpetual hymn。
Their names are unknown； but so long as the humble in spirit and pure
Page： 172
Are worshipped in speech and in song； our love for these monks will endure；
And the lesson by sacrifice taught will live in the light of the years
With a reverence not to be bought； and a tenderness deeper than tears。
Page： 173
ROVER
No classic warrior tempts my pen
To fill with verse these pages …
No lordly…hearted man of men
My Muse's thought engages。
Let others choose the mighty dead；
And sing their battles over！
My champion； too； has fought and bled …
My theme is one…eyed Rover。
A grave old dog； with tattered ears
Too sore to cock up； reader！ …
A four…legged hero； full of years；
But
