.H .C<* "never* «
WAR POEMS
AND OTHER TRANSLATIONS
WAR POEMS
AND OTHER TRANSLATIONS
BY LORD CURZON
OF KEDLESTON
Haec studia — dtlectant domi, nan
imptdiuntforis, pernoctant nobis-
cumy peregrinantur^ rusticantur.
CICERO, Pro <^rchla^ 1 6
LONDON : JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK : JOHN LANE COMPANY MCMXV
TUB BALLANTYNE PR«SS TAVISTOCK STRBET COVEKT GARDEN LONDON
^PREFACE
cr'RANSLATION of the poetry of one country
into the language and metre of another is an
amiable hobby to which many persons — and, it
would seem, 'public men'' in particular* — are
prone. As a rule it possesses little interest or
attraction save for the author of the experiment.
It is certainly in that light that I have always
regarded and occasionally practised it, and I had
no idea of ever asking the public to share the
doubtful results of my labours.
Quite recently, however, having sent to the
OBSERVER a series of translations into English of
some of the beautiful and touching poems on the
EuropeanWar and the sufferings of his country, which
have appeared in its columns from the pen of the
* e.g. Lord Wellesley, Lord Derby, Lord Carnarvon, Lord
Cromer, Mr. Gladstone, and many others.
vi PREFACE
Belgian writer, M. Emile Cammaerts, I have
received so many requests from readers and pub
lishers for the wider circulation of these efforts, that
I have agreed to their re-issue in a less fugitive
form — the proceeds, if there are any, to be devoted
to the Belgian Relief Fund. I have added several
other translations which have at different times lent
distraction to my leisure hours ; and these include two
from another Belgian man of letters, a great poet and
artist, M. Emile Verhaeren.
Upon the genera! principles to be observed in the
translation of poetry into a foreign tongue, I would
say this : The translator should, I think, remember
that the work is not primarily his, but that of
another man, of whose ideas he is merely the vehicle
and interpreter; and, while endeavouring to convert
them into the idiom and metrical form of another lan
guage, often with some loss, rarely with any gain, in
the process, he should as far as possible subordinate
himself to the conception and thought, ana even defer,
where possible, to the technique of the original writer.
PREFACE vii
// is surprising to find with what readiness the ideas
and ei} en the phrases of one language discover their
equivalent in another, and what an essential unity
there is between the poetic mind of the centuries.
This applies, of 'course, far more to modern than to
ancient languages, and to European than to Asiatic
thought. The writer who wishes to translate Hafiz
or Saadi, for instance, is driven to paraphrase
rather than to reproduce. The most familiar illus
tration is Edward FitzGerald, who in translating
an Oriental writer, not particularly esteemed in the
East, wrote a new poem, which is one of the classics
of the West. The Qreek Tragedians, and even
Horace — modern as he often is — do not always yield
readily to an English version. But there is a
substantial identity in modern cultured thought and
expression, which renders the translation e.g. of
French or German lyrics into English one of no
extraordinary difficulty. My object has been, nearly
everywhere, not to paraphrase, but to translate.
The task of reconverting a modern language into an
viii PREFACE
ancient is a different matter. It is an exercise of
much attraction and has provoked the expenditure
of no small ingenuity. But one cannot help wondering
what an ancient Qreek or Roman would have
thought of the Iambics or Elegiacs of even the most
erudite of modern classical scholars, much more of the
mediocre practitioner. On the other hand, that a
modern author need not always or necessarily suffet
in the process of translation into an ancient tongue is
shown by the well-known case of Robert Browning,
who declared thai he had never fully understood his
own amazing rhapsody of Abt Vogler until he saw
it translated into a Greek Pindaric Ode by the late
Professor Jebb.
I am indebted to M. Verhaeren and M. Cammaerts
for permission to print the originals of their poems,
and to some of my friends for having looked through
these translations.
CURZON OF KEDLESTON
February 1915.
CONTENTS
PART I : WAR POEMS
PACK
I. POUR LA PIPE DES SOLDATS, by E.
Cammaerts Translation Into English 2
II. CHANTONS, BELGES, CHANTONS ! by E.
Cammaerts Translation into English 6
III. LE DRAPEAU BELGE, by E. Cammaert
Translation into English 12
IV. Au GRAND Roi D'UN PETIT PAYS, by E.
Cammaerts Translation into English 16
V. FUITE EN ANGLETERRE, by E. Cammaerts
Translation into English 22
VI. L'AVEUGLE ET SON FILS, by E.
Cammaerts Translation into English 26
x CONTENTS
PAGE
VII. A L'ARMEE ALLEMANDE, by E.
Cammaerts Translation into English 30
VIII. CARILLONS DE FLANDRES, by Dominique
Bonnaud Translation into English 34
IX. CRUX FERREA (Anonymous)
Translation into English 40
X. LK SOLDAT MORT (Anonymous)
Translation into English 42
XI. A L' AMBULANCE, by Francois Copp£e
Translation into English 46
XII. LE DRAPEAU ANGLAIS, by Louis
Frechette Translation into English 52
XIII. IN THE AFGHAN WAR
Adaptation in English 56
XIV. EPITAPH ON THE SPARTANS AT THER
MOPYLAE, by Simonides of Ceos
Translation into English 58
CONTENTS xi
PAGE
XV. EPITAPH ON THOSE WHO FELL AT
CHAERONEA, Demosthenes
Translation into English 60
XVI. THE SLEEP OF THE BRAVE, by W.
Collins Translation into Latin 62
XVII. HEBREW MELODIES, by Lord Byron
Translation into Latin 64
XVIII. THE Two VOICES, by Lord Tennyson
Translation into Latin 68
xii CONTENTS
PART II : OTHER TRANSLATIONS
PAGE
XIX. AGONIE DE MOINE, by E. Verhaeren
Translation into English 74
XX. ANTON MOR, by E. Verhaeren
Translation into English 80
XXI. LES UNES ET LES AUTRES, by Henry C.
Spiess Translation into English 84
XXII. LES MAINS, by Henry C. Spiess
Translation into English 88
XXIII. RUINES DU CCEUR, by Francois Coppee
Translation into English 92
XXIV. ROMANCE SANS PAROLE, by Paul
Verlaine Translation into English 94
XXV. ROUTE PRINTANIERE, by Auguste
Angellier Translation into English 98
XXVI. A L'AMIE PERDUE, by Auguste
Angellier Translation into English 102
CONTENTS xiii
PAGE
XXVII. ADIEU, by Alfred de Mussel
Translation into English 106
XXVIII. SON EPITAPHE, by Paul Scarron
Translation into English HO
XXIX. SUR UNE DAME POETE, by P. D.
Lebrun Translation into English 1 1 2
XXX. LE POETE ET LE VOLEUR, by P. D.
Lebrun Translation into English 114
XXXI. EPITAPHE, by Voltaire
Translation into English 116
XXXII. LA STATUE DE L'AMOUR, by Voltaire
Translation into English 1 1 8
XXXIII. EPIGRAMS QUOTED IN LORD CHES
TERFIELD'S LETTERS TO His SON —
DIDON ET COLAS (Anonymous)
Translation into English 120
XXXIV. THE INFERNO. CANTO V, 25-142,
by Dante Alighieri
Translation into English 122
xiv CONTENTS
PAGE
XXXV. A VISION. FROM "THE GATE OF
IVORY" 138
XXXVI. INDIAN LOVE-SONG
Translation into English 140
XXXVII. DEATH AND BEYOND, by Antiphanes
Translation into English 142
XXXVIII. MY STAR, by Plato
Translation into English 144
XXXIX. THE EVENING STAR, by Plato
Translations into Latin and English 146
XL. INSCRIPTION ON THE PEDESTAL OF
MEMNON, by Asclepiodotus
Translation into English 148
XLI. INSCRIPTION ON A BATH (Anonymous)
Translation into English 1 50
XLII. THEMYTH OFEn,by Plato (Republic)
Translation into English 152
CONTENTS xv
PAGE
XLIII. To TORQUATUS, by Horace (Odes]
Translation into English 180
XLIV. THE PROGRESS OF POESY, by
T. Gray Translation into Latin 184
XLV. THE VOICE OF THE SEA, by Felicia
Hemans Translation into Latin 188
XLVI. LUCY, by W. Wordsworth
Translation into Latin 192
XLVII. ORPHEUS, by A. Cowley
Translation into Latin 194
XLVIII. THE SKYLARK, by J. Hogg
Translation into Latin 196
XLIX. AMOURS DE VOYAGE, by A. H.
Clough Translation into Latin 20O
L. JAMAIS, by Alfred de Musset
Translated into English 206
LI. THE VISION OF MIRZAH, by Joseph
Addison Adaptation in verse 210
DEDICATORY
BELGIUM
TJEARTSTRUCK she stands— Our Lady of all
Sorrows —
Circled with ruin, sunk in deep amaze,
Facing the shadow of her dark to-morrows,
Mourning the glory of her yesterdays.
Yet is she queen, by every royal token,
There where the storm of desolation swirled ;
Crowned only with the thorn — despoiled and
broken —
Her kingdom is the heart of all the world.
She made her breast a shield, her sword a splendour,
She rose like flame upon the darkened ways :
So, through the anguish of her proud surrender,
Breaks the clear vision of undying praise !
From The Nation
PART I
WAR POEMS
The following series of seven poems^ by
tM. Emile Cammaerts, the Belgian
poety appeared in the columns of the
OBSERVER or of other newspapers^
during the first six months of the
Great War In 1914-15. The trans
lations also appeared in the OBSERVER.
I
POUR LA PIPE DES SOLD ATS*
J'AI mis ici bien des secrets
Que je ne voulais pas dire,
Bien des faiblesses, bien des aveux qu'on ne devrait
Jamais £crire.
J'ai mis ici mon coeur tout nu,
Sans honte et sans pudeur,
Afin qu'Ils fument une pipe de plus
Au champ d'honneur.
J'ai mis ici ma vie intime,
Mois par mois et jour par jour,
J'ai ri sans rythme et j'ai pleure" sans rime,
Au gr£ de ma foi et de mon amour.
J'ai mis ici mon coeur tout nu,
* The proceeds of the first edition of M. Cammaerts' book,
" Chants Patriotiques et Autres Poemes " — to which these
FOR THE SOLDIERS' PIPE
Ti/TANY a secret lies herein
•*•*•*• That should not be told,
Many a whispered foolishness,
Many a thing that to confess
Might be overbold.
Lies herein my naked heart,
Innocent of shame —
To give our lads one pipe the more
On the field of fame !
Lies herein my inmost soul
Bared by month and day ;
Tears and laughter without rhyme,
Whatsoe'er at any time
Faith or love would say.
verses were written as a Dedication— are to be given to the
Belgian Soldiers Fund for the purchase of tobacco.
4 POUR LA PIPE DES SOLDATS
Sans £cran et sans voile,
Afin qu'Ils fument une pipe de plus
Sous les e"toiles.
J'ai mis ici des na\'vet£s
Dont les moqueurs se gausseront,
Ma lyre tinte d'une corde, mon vers cloche d'un pied,
Et je n'ai guere d'inspiration.
J'ai mis ici mon coeur tout nu . . .
Que m'importe qu'on raille !
Pourvu qu'Ils fument une pipe de plus
Sous la mitraille !
FOR THE SOLDIERS' PIPE
Lies herein my naked heart,
Stripped of all disguise —
To give our lads one pipe the more
'Neath the starry skies !
Sings herein my artless muse —
Let the scoffers jeer,
Cadence of my verse impugn,
Say my lyre is out of tune
And my fancy sere.
Lies herein my naked heart —
Let the mockers rail —
But give our lads one pipe the more
'Neath the leaden hail !
II
CHANTONS, BELGES, CHANTONS !
/CHANTONS, Beiges, chantons,
^^^ M£me si les blessures saignent, m^me si la voix
se brisc,
Plus haut que la tourmente, plus fort que les canons,
Chantons Torgueil de nos deTaites,
Par ce beau soleil d'automne,
Et la fierte" de rester honne"tes
Quand la Hlchct£ nous serait si bonne.
Au son du tambour, au son du clairon,
Sur les ruines d'Aerschot, de Dinant, de Termonde,
Dansons, Beiges, Dansons,
En chantant notre gloire.
SONG OF THE BELGIANS
"O ECK not that your wounds are bleeding,
Reck not that your voice is weak :
Louder than the roar of cannon,
Higher than the battle-shriek,
Sing, my countrymen, the story
Of the fields we have not won,
Fields of failure but of glory,
'Neath this fair autumnal sun :
Sing how, when the tempter whispered,
" Buy your safety with your shame,"
Said we, "Sooner no dishonour
Shall defile the Belgian name " !
Here, amid the smoking ruins,
Dinant, Aerschot, Termond,
Beat the drum and blow the bugle,
Dance to the unwonted sound !
8 CHANTONS, BELGES, CHANTONS !
Me'me si les yeux brulent, si la tete s'e"gare,
Formons la ronde !
Avec des branches de he'tre, de he'tre flamboyant,
Au son du tambour,
Nous couvrirons les tombes de nos enfants.
Nous choisirons un jour,
Comme celui-ci,
Ou les peupliers tremblent doucement
Dans le vent,
Et ou 1'odeur des feuilles mortes
Embaume les bois,
Comme aujourd'hui,
Arm qu'ils emportent
La-bas
Le parfum du pays.
Nous prierons la terre qu'ils ont tant aim£e
De les bercer dans ses grands bras,
De les re'chauffer sur sa vaste poitrine
Et dc les faire reVer de nouveaux combats :
SONG OF THE BELGIANS
Belgians, dance and sing our glory
On this consecrated ground —
Eyes are burning, brains are turning —
Heed not ! dance the merry round !
Come with flaming beechen branches,
And the music of the drum ;
Come, and strew them on the earth-heaps
Where our dead lie buried, come !
Choose a day like this, my brothers,
When the wind a pattern weaves
'Mid the shivering poplar tree-tops,
When the scent of fallen leaves
Floats like perfume through the woodland,
As it doth to-day, that so
Some sweet odour of our good land
May be with them, down below.
We will pray the earth they held so
Dear, to rock them in her arm,
On her vast and ample bosom
Once again to make them warm,
io CHANTONS, BELGES, CHANTONS !
De la prise de Bruxellcs, de Malines,
De Namur, de Li6ge, de Louvain,
Et de leur entree triomphale, la-bas,
A Berlin!
Chantons, Beiges, chantons,
Me*me si les blessures saignent et si la voix se brise,
Plus haut que la tourmente, plus fort que les canons,
Me"me si les blessures saignent et si le cceur se brise,
Chantons 1'espoir et la haine implacable,
Par ce beau soleil d'automne,
Et la fiert£ de rester charitables
Quand la Vengeance nous serait si bonne !
SONG OF THE BELGIANS n
So that haply, as they slumber,
They may dream of battles new,
Dream that Brussels is retaken,
That Malines is theirs anew,
That Namur, Liege, and Louvain
See their armies enter in,
Till they thunder, in the under-
World, into a waste Berlin !
Reck not that your wounds are bleeding,
Reck not that your voice is weak :
Deeper than the roar of cannon,
Higher than the battle-shriek,
E'en although your wounds are bleeding,
E'en although your heart-strings break,
Sing of hope and hate unshaken,
'Neath this fair autumnal sun :
Sing how, when the tempter whispered,
"Sweet is vengeance, when 'tis done,"
Said we louder, " We are prouder,
Mercy's garland to have won " !
Ill
"LE DRAPEAU BELGE
T} OUGE pour le sang des soldats —
Noir, jaune et rouge —
Noir pour les larmes des meres —
Noir, jaune et rouge —
Et jaune pour la lumiere
Et 1'ardeur des prochains combats.
Au drapeau, mes enfants,
La patrie vous appclle,
Au drapeau, serrons les rangs,
Ceux qui meurent, vivent pour elle !
Rouge pour la pourpre heVoi'que —
Noir, jaune et rouge —
Noir pour le voile des veuves —
Noir, jaune et rouge —
Et jaune pour 1'orgueil 6pique
Et le triomphe apres l'£preuvc.
THE BELGIAN FLAG
T} ED for the blood of soldiers,
Black, yellow and red —
Black for the tears of mothers,
Black, yellow and red —
And yellow for the light and flame
Of the fields where the blood is shed !
To the glorious flag, my children,
Hark ! the call your country gives,
To the flag in serried order !
He who dies for Belgium lives !
Red for the purple of heroes,
Black, yellow and red —
Black for the veils of widows
Black, yellow and red —
And yellow for the shining crown
Of the victors who have bled !
i4 "LE DRAPEAU BELGE"
Au drapeau, au drapeau,
La patrie vous appelle,
II n'a jamais flott£ si haut
Elle n'a jamais 6t£ si belle.
Rouge pour la rage des flammes —
Noir, jaune et rouge —
Noir pour la cendre des deuils —
Noir, jaune et rouge —
Et jaune pour le salut de Time
Et Tor fauve de notre orgueil.
Au drapeau, mes enfants —
La patrie vous b£nit —
II n'a jamais &t£ si grand
Que depuis qu'il est petit,
II n'a jamais 6t£ si fort
Que depuis qu'il brave la mort.
THE BELGIAN FLAG
To the flag, the flag, my children,
Hearken to your country's cry !
Never has it shone so splendid,
Never has it flown so high !
Red for the flames in fury,
Black, yellow and red —
Black for the mourning ashes,
Black, yellow and red —
And yellow of gold, as we proudly hail
The spirits of the dead !
To the flag, my sons ! Your country
With her blessing " Forward " cries !
Has it shrunken ? No, when smallest,
Larger, statelier, it flies !
Is it tattered ? No, 'tis stoutest
When destruction it defies !
IV
AU GRAND ROI D'UN
PETIT PAYS
TVTOUS vous suivrons, sire, ou vous nous con-
duirez,
Par le gel et par la pluie,
Par les bois et par les pre"s,
Et nous vous donnerons notre vie
Quand vous voudrez.
Nous ferons ce que vous ferez,
Nous irons ou vous irez,
Nous vous suivrons, sire, par tous les sentiers,
A travers le feu, a travers les armes,
A travers le chaos de la bataille
Et le fracas des£armes;
A travers le sifflement de la mitraille,
Et le long ge'missement des blesses.
TO THE GREAT KING OF A
SMALL COUNTRY
VyHERESOE'ER you will to lead us,
We will follow you full fain,
Through the woods and through the meadows,
Through the frost and through the rain.
If you bid us shed our life-blood,
Sire, the last drop you may drain.
We will do whate'er you're doing,
Where you go, Sire, we will go,
Heedless that on every foot-track
Fires will burn and tears must flow.
'Mid the tumult of the fighting,
Clash of slayers and of slain,
'Mid the whistling of the bullets
And the moans of those in pain.
i8 AU GRAND ROI D'UN PETIT PAYS
Nous vous suivrons ou vous nous conduirez,
Et nous vous donncrons notre vie quand vous
voudrez.
Nous irons a Gand, a Anvers, a Termonde,
Nous delivrerons Aerschot et Louvain,
Nous purgerons le pays de la race immonde
Qui 1'opprime en vain.
Nous vous rendrons Liege, nous vous rendrons
Bruxelles,
Nous repasserons la Meuse a Vis6,
Ensemble nous verrons les tours d'Aix-la-Chapelle
Se dresser dans le ciel purified
Et nous entendrons, un beau matin,
Les cuivres et les cimbales
Saluer votre entree triomphale
Sous les Tilleuls, a Berlin !
Nous vous suivrons ou vous nous conduirez,
Et nous vous donnerons notre vie quand vous
voudrez.
TO THE GREAT KING 19
Whereso'er you will to lead us,
We will come full fain,
If you bid us shed our life-blood,
Sire, 'tis yours to drain !
We will march to Ghent and Antwerp,
Aerschot, Termond, Louvain,
Rid our country of the monsters
Who oppress it — but in vain —
Brussels and Liege recapture,
Cross the river at Vise",
At your side see Aix' towers
Rise against a brighter day.
Till one morning, while the cymbals
And the bands make frenzied din,
We will see you ride triumphant
Down the Lime-walk at Berlin !
Wheresoe'er you will to lead us,
We will come full fain,
If you bid us shed our life-blood,
Sire, 'tis yours to drain !
20 AU GRAND ROI D'UN PETIT PAYS
Que Dicu vous garde, sire, comme vous nous gardez,
Qu'Il vous protege comme vous nous prot^gez,
Roi de Furnes, roi du "petit soldat,"
Roi de 1'honneur et de la parole donn^e,
Roi de cent prairies, et de vingt clochers,
Orgueil de la Patrie,
Champion de l'Humanit£ 1
Nous vous suivrons, sire, ou vous nous conduirez,
Et nous vous donnerons notre vie quand vous
voudrez.
TO THE GREAT KING 21
God protect you, our protector,
You our shield, Sire, may He shield,
King of Fumes, the soldiers' monarch,
King who scorned his pledge to yield ;
King of only a score of steeples,
King of acres — few there be —
Pride and glory of our Homeland,
Warden of Humanity !
Wheresoe'er you will to lead us,
We will come full fain,
If you bid us shed our life-blood,
Sire, 'tis yours to drain !
V
FUITE EN ANGLETERRE
[NOEL BELGE]
TLS ont passe dans la nuit bleue,
**• Us ont passe" par la.
Joseph marchait devant,
Tirant 1'ane par la bride,
Et La Mere serrait 1'enfant
Centre son sein vide.
Us on trotte par la,
Us ont trotte", dans la nuit bleue,
Plus de six lieues,
Fuyant les soldats, les bourreaux,
Les cit£s et les hameaux,
Et les cris de"chirants
Des Saints Innocents.
— Que cherchez vous si vite, vieux,
Avec cette jeune femme ?
THE FLIGHT INTO ENGLAND
TjfORWARD through the dark blue night,
•*• Forward the wanderers pressed,
Joseph trudged, at the ass' head,
In front, and took no rest,
And the Mother clasped the infant child
Against her empty breast.
Forward through the dark blue night
They trotted, six leagues hence,
Six leagues of flight from city walls
And soldiers in their tents,
From bloody men and the woeful cries
Of the Holy Innocents.
" What seekest thou so fast, old man,
Along with thy young wife ? "
24 FUITE EN ANGLETERRE
— D'autres homines et d'autres cieux,
D'autres coeurs et d'autres imes
Pour abriter le Fils de Dieu.
Us ont couru dans la nuit bleue,
Us ont couru par la.
Us ont couru si loin
Que le bruit de leurs pas
Peu a peu s'est e"teint,
Et que le vent a efface"
La trace de leurs pieds
De tous les sentiers.
THE FLIGHT INTO ENGLAND 25
"We seek new men, we seek new skies,
New hearts, new souls, new life,
To shield the blessed Son of God
From the blast of deadly strife."
Forward through the dark blue night
They have fled, with foot so fleet,
The sound of their footfall dies away
And is lost in the desert street,
And the wind has swept from every path
The traces of their feet.
VI
L'AVEUGLE ET SON FILS
JE n'entends plus le son lointain
Des canons ennemis . . .
Ou sommes nous, mon fils ?
— Mon pere, nous sommes en Angleterre.
— Je n'entends plus le bruit du vent
Sifflant dans les cordages.
Je sens sous mes pas h£sitants
Le sol ferme de la plage.
Est ce la fin de nos mis^res ?
— Mon pere, nous sommes en Angleterre.
— J'entends des paroles amies
Que je ne comprends pas,
Je me sens loin, bien loin de la patrie,
THE BLIND MAN AND HIS SON
' I VHE distant boom of angry guns
No longer fills my ear.
Oh ! whither have we fled, my son ?
Tell me, that I may hear."
" Father, we are in England ! "
"No more I hear the stormy wind
Amid the rigging roar,
I feel beneath my tottering feet
The firm ground of the shore.
Is this the end of all our woes ?
Shall we not suffer more ? "
"Father, we are in England !"
" I hear the sound of kindly speech,
But do not understand,
I feel I've wandered very far,
28 L'AVEUGLE ET SON FILS
D'ou vient que ces voix
Me semblent familieres ?
— Mon pere, nous sommes en Angleterre.
— Je sens dans 1'air que je respire
Un parfum de liberte",
Je sens fr^mir les cords de ma lyre
Sous un souffle inspire",
Les oiseaux, les arbres, les rivieres
Me parlent de chez nous.
Pourquoi ma peine me devient elle moins amere ?
Pourquoi le repos m'est il si doux ?
— Mon pere, nous sommes en Angleterre.
— Incline toi, mon fils, agenouille toi
A cot6 de moi,
Prenons entre nos doigts meurtris,
Un peu de cette terre hospitaliere,
Et baisons ensemble, en pensant au pays,
Le sol de 1'Angleterre.
THE BLIND MAN AND HIS SON 29
Far from the fatherland ;
How comes it that these tones are not
Those of an unknown land ? "
" Father, we are in England ! "
"I feel in all the air around
Freedom's sweet breath respire,
I feel celestial fingers creep
Along my quivering lyre ;
The birds, the trees, the babbling streams
Speak to me of our home,
Why does my grief less bitter grow
And rest so dear become ? "
" Father, we are in England ! "
" Bend down upon thy knees, my son,
And take into thy hand,
Thy wounded hand, and mine, somewhat
Of the earth of this good land,
That, dreaming of our home, we two
May kiss the soil of England ! "
VII
VCEUX DE NOUVEL AN, 1915
A L'ARMEE ALLEMANDE
JE souhaite que chaque heurc
Vous meurtrisse le coeur.
Je souhaite que chaque pas que vous ferez
Vous brule les pieds.
Je souhaite que vous deveniez aveugles et sourds
A la beaute" des choses,
Et que vous marchiez, nuit et jour,
Sous un ciel morose.
Sans voir les fleurs £clore au coin des haies,
Sans entendre un mot, sans surprendre un chant
Qui vous rappelle les femmes et les enfants
Laisses dans vos foyers.
Je souhaite que la terre, notre terre,
Se creuse de fondrieres
* I may mention, as an example of German tactics, that this
translation has been widely circulated in America, as an original
TO THE GERMAN ARMY
A NEW YEAR'S PRAYER, 1915*
T PRAY that every passing hour
Your hearts may bruise and beat,
I pray that every step you take
May scorch and sear your feet !
I pray that Beauty never more
May charm your eyes, your ears,
That you may march, through day and night,
Beneath a heaven of tears,
Blind to the humblest flowers that in
The hedgerow-corners bloom,
Deaf to whatever sound or cry
May wake in you the memory
Of dear ones left at home.
I pray your guns may be engulfed
Beneath the loam — our loam !
poem by myself, with loud denunciations of the ferocious spirit
of the English writer.
32 VCEUX DE NOUVEL AN, 1915
Sous vos canons,
Et que les rivieres du pays, de notre pays,
Sortent de leur lit
Pour submerger vos bataillons.
Je souhaite que les spectres de nos martyrs
Empoisonnent vos nuits,
Et que vous ne puissiez plus ni veiller, ni dormir,
Sans respirer 1'odeur du sang
De nos Saints Innocents.
Je souhaite que les ruines de nos maisons
S'e"croulent sur vos te"tes,
Et que 1'angoisse trouble votre raison,
Et que le doute confonde votre rage,
Et que vous erriez 6perdus comme des be"tes
Poursuivies par 1'orage.
Je souhaite que vous viviez assez longtemps
Pour 6prouver toutes nos souffrances,
Afin que Dieu vous 6pargne le supreme chatiment
De son 6ternelle vengeance.
TO THE GERMAN ARMY 33
I pray the streams — our streams — may leap
In floods above their banks and sweep
Your trampling hosts to doom !
I pray the spectres of our slain
May haunt you in your tents —
Vigil or sleep, whiche'er you seek —
Nought smelling but the bloody reek
Of our Holy Innocents.
I pray the ruins of our homes
May crush you like a worm,
Your brains beneath the torment reel,
Doubt from your hearts their fury steal,
Fear drive you like brute beasts that squeal
And fly before the storm !
I pray that you may live to bear
Each pang that marked our path ;
Then God may at the last relent,
And spare your souls the chastisement
Of his eternal wrath !
VIII
CARILLONS DE FLANDRES
/'"VEST un Dimanche de Flandre,
^"^^ Le ciel bleu, d'un bleu de lin,
Doucement semble s'e"pandre
Sur la plaine et le moulin.
Et dans leur beffroi, les cloches
Se sont mises a chanter
La plantureuse gaiet£
Des kermesses proches.
Va ! Sonne ! Sonne gaiement !
Leger carillon Flamand !
Mais, tout a coup, dans 1'espace
Monte une rumeur d'effroi . . .
Alerte ! Alerte au beffroi !
Voici la horde rapace
Des corbeaux et des vau tours
Semeurs de deuils et d'alarmes.
BELLS OF FLANDERS
CUNDAY it is in Flanders,
And, blue as flax, the sky
O'er plain and windmill stretches
Its peaceful canopy.
The bells, high in the belfries,
Are singing, blithe and gay,
The overflowing gladness
Of coming Holiday.
Ring out ! Ring on ! Ring loudly
The merry Flemish peal !
But suddenly there rises
To heaven a cry of fear —
Quick ! To the belfry, quickly !
The ravenous horde is here,
See them ! the crows and vultures,
Sowers of dire alarms ;
36 CARILLONS DE FLANDRES
Cloches ! Lancez dans vos tours
Votre appel aux armes !
Sonne ! Sonne £perdument,
Vaillant carillon Flamand !
Le glaive lourd des vieux reitres —
Pour un instant triomphants —
Sur la terre des ance'tres
Vient d'6tendre les enfants ! . . .
Mais au vainqueur implacable
Tu vends cher la liberte,
Fier petit peuple indompte"
Que le nombre accable !
Sonne ! Sonne tristement,
Noble carillon Flamand !
Enfin dans les cieux pleins d'ombre
L'aube de justice a lui !
La horde fauve s'enfuit
La-bas vers 1'horizon sombre . . .
. . . Puis c'est le jour e'clatant,
Jour de revanche et de gloire.
BELLS OF FLANDERS 37
Oh ! bells, from out your steeples
Fling forth your call to arms !
Ring out ! Ring on 1 Ring madly
The valiant Flemish peal !
The fell sword of the troopers —
Brief triumph shall they know —
Upon your soil ancestral
E'en now your sons lays low !
But to the ruthless victor
Your freedom dear you sell,
Proud, dauntless, little nation,
Whom only numbers quell !
Ring out ! Ring on ! Ring sadly
The noble Flemish peal !
But see ! in the dark heavens
The dawn of justice light !
There to the dim horizon
The brutal horde takes flight.
The radiant day of glory
Day of revenge is here,
38 CARILLONS DE FLANDRES
Chantc, cloche, a plein battant
Ton air de victoire !
Sonne glorieusement
Libre carillon Flamand !
DOMINIQUE BONNAUD
Oct. 1914
BELLS OF FLANDERS 39
Oh ! bells, proclaim your triumph
With music loud and clear !
Ring out ! Ring on ! Ring proudly
The free-born Flemish peal.
IX
CRUX FERREA
AFFIXUS olim fur cruci ; nunc crux
furi.
THE IRON CROSS
TN olden days they hanged the thief,
And on the cross he clung;
But now we've turned another leaf —
The cross on thieves is hung.
X
LE SOLDAT MORT
"/^ENTILZ gallans de France,
^^ Qui en la guerre allez,
Je vous prie qu'il vous plaise
Mon amy saluer."
Comment le saluroye
Quant point ne le congnois ? "
"II est bon a cognoistre,
II est de blanc arme" ;
"II porte la croix blanche,
Lcs esperons dorez,
Et au bout de sa lance
Ung fer d'argent dore"."
" Ne plorez plus, la belle,
Car il est trespass^ ;
THE DEAD SOLDIER
gentlemen of France,
A-marching out to war,
I pray you, an you please,
Give cheer to my suitor."
"How shall I give him cheer
Who is to me unknown ? "
"To know him is not hard,
He hath white armour on ;
"The cross he bears is white,
His spurs are made of gold,
A lance, with silver head
Well gilded, he doth hold."
"Weep no more, lady fair,
For he is dead and gone j
44 LE SOLDAT MORT
II est mort en Bretaigne,
Les Bretons 1'ont tu6.
"J'au veu faire sa fousse
L'ore"e d'ung vert pre",
Et veu chanter sa messe
A quatre cordelliers."
(AUTEUR INCONNU XVe SIECLfi)
THE DEAD SOLDIER 45
In Brittany he died,
To death he hath been done.
"I saw men dig his grave
Beside a meadow green,
By four St. Francis' Friars
His mass hath chanted been.'
XI
A L'AMBULANCE
T"\U couvent troublant le silence,
•**^ Arrive, avec son bruit presse,
Une voiture d'ambulance,
On amene un soldat blessd.
Sur sa capote le sang brille ;
II boite, e'treinte' par 1'obus.
Son fusil lui sert de bequille
Pour descendre de 1'omnibus.
C'est un vieux aux moustaches rudes,
Galonne" d'un triple chevron,
Qui hait les cagots et les prudes
Et debute par un juron.
II a des propos malhonnetes
Et des regards presque insultants,
THE WOUNDED SOLDIER
IN THE CONVENT
T T 7HAT is that clattering noise I hear
Through the still convent ringing ?
It is the carriage-ambulance
A wounded soldier bringing.
Upon his coat the blood-spots shine ;
He limps — a shell has caught him —
His gun he uses for a crutch,
Descending, to support him.
A veteran he, with fierce moustache —
The triple stripes he's wearing —
All prudes and hypocrites he loathes,
And starts by loudly swearing.
Well-nigh insulting are his looks,
W ith illbred gibes he rallies
48 A L'AMBULANCE
Qui font rougir sous leurs cornettes
Les novices de dix-huit ans.
Croyant qu'il dort et qu'elle est seule,
Si la soeur pric aupres de lui,
Vite il charge son brule-gueule
Et siffle un air avec ennui.
Que lui font la veille assidue,
L'inte're't qu'on peut lui porter ?
II sait que sa jambe est perdue
Et que 1'on va le charcuter.
II est furieux. — Laissez faire !
On est tres patient ici ;
Puis il y regne un atmosphere
Qui console et qui dompte aussi.
L'influence est lente, mais sure,
De ces servantes de leur voeu,
Douces en touchant la blessure
Et douces en parlant de Dieu.
THE WOUNDED SOLDIER 49
The novices — beneath their caps
They blush at his coarse sallies.
If at his side, thinking he sleeps,
The sister breathes a prayer,
Straightway astir he fills his pipe
And whistles a bored air.
What use to him their faithful watch,
The care that never ceases ?
He knows his leg is lost and done,
And he'll be hacked to pieces.
He's very angry — Let him be !
Here no one knows impatience,
There reigns an atmosphere that soothes
And cows the rudest patients.
Slow is the spell, but sure, that wields
This band, to service given,
With fingers soft they touch the wounds,
And softly speak of Heaven.
D
50 A L'AMBULANCE
— Aussi, sentant, a sa manure,
Le charme pieux et subtil,
Le grognard h chaque pri^re
Dira bient6t : " Ainsi soit-il ! "
FRANCOIS COPP£E*
* Written in Paris during tha Siege, November 1870.
THE WOUNDED SOLDIER 51
So subtle is their pious charm,
Our grumbler soon will see it
In his own way — and to each prayer
Make the response "So be it"!
XII
LE DRAPEAU ANGLAIS
le drapeau d'Angleterre ;
Sans tache, sur le firmament,
Presque a tous les points de terre
II flotte glorieusement.
II brille sur tous les rivages ;
II a seme tous les progres,
Au bout des mers les plus sauvages
Comme aux plus lointaines fore'ts.
Devant Pesprit humain en marche
Mainte fois son pli rayonna,
Comme la colombe de 1'arche
Ou comme I'e'clair du Sina.
Oublions les jours des tempe'tes,
Et, mon enfant, puisqu' aujourd'hui
Ce drapeau flotte sur nos tetes,
II faut incliner devant lui.
THE ENGLISH FLAG
THE FRENCH CANADIAN AND HIS SON
" TT is the flag of England !
Stainless, against the sky,
Where is the land but sees it
Floating in majesty ?
" It gleams on every shoreline,
Where progress forward sweeps,
Beyond the furthest forests,
Beyond the stormiest deeps.
" And wheresoe'er man's spirit
Fares on, it streams before,
Like Noah's dove, or lightning
From Sinai flashed of yore.
" Forget the days of tempest,
And low, my son, incline,
Because to-day this banner
Floats o'er thy head and mine."
54 LE DRAPEAU ANGLAIS
— Mais, pere, pardonnez si j'ose —
N'en est-il un autre, a nous ?
— Ah ! celui-la, c'est autre chose ;
II faut le baiser a genoux.
Louis FRECHETTE
THE ENGLISH FLAG 55
" Father — forgive my daring —
Have we not also one ? "
"Ah! yes, there is another, u*,ift ' "---
To kneel and kiss, my son ! "
XIII
FROM THE JOURNAL OF THE SOCIETY
FOR PSYCHICAL RESEARCH
IN THE AFGHAN WAR
' I VHE autumn sun was dying;
"^ Flushed with its light the scene,
Dark earth below, the blood-red glow,
And a belt of gold between.
Its molten trail swept o'er her,
As she sat apart from all,
And the ruddy gleam of the fading beam
Made patterns on the wall.
But she looked not on the sunset,
To its pomp her eyes were dim —
For honour sworn his sword was drawn —
She thought alone of him.
IN THE AFGHAN WAR 57
In the distant Asian passes
The banner of England blew ;
Upon the height she saw him fight —
Fighting, he saw her too.
The golden flood was darkened —
A shadow before her came ;
Within the room was the wraith of doom,
Outside the great red flame.
A cry broke on the stillness —
" Great God " ! she reeled and fell,
And the sun dropped down on field and town,
And vanished was the spell.
In the distant Asian passes
A pale corpse faced the sky —
Oh ! dying breath of life in death !
Oh ! hidden mystery !
XIV
EPITAPH ON THE SPARTANS
AT THERMOPYLAE
', &yyet\ov AaKfSat/iovi'ots on TjjSf
tfifda, rols Ktivu>v pij/iacrt Treidofievoi.
SlMONIDES OF CEOS
^ •* >**» *
IDEM
ANGLICE REDDITUM
QTR ANGER, go hence and say to the men who
^ hold Lacedaemon —
* Here, far away, we lie, proudly obeying her
words ' !
XV
EPITAPH ON THOSE WHO FELL
AT THE BATTLE OF CHAERONEA
Ot8t -narpas tvena <r</>frepaf els drjpiv edevro
ojrXa, KOI dvriiraXav vftpiv d.irf<TKfbacrav*
tfdpfTrjs Kal Set/iarof ov< eVdeoo-av
as, aXX' 'A?S»jj/ KOIVOV fdevro ftpafjij,
'EXXiji/coy, ws fir) £vybv av\tvi Qtvres
8ov\oa~uvT]s aruyepav dp.(pls f^uxriv vftpiv'
yaia Se Trarpi? e^et icoXTrots ra>v TrXewrra Kap.6vT<av
o-a>/iar', eVet Bvrjrols etc Ator 1786 Kpicris'
p.t)8fv afjLapTflv eon 6fov Kal iravra Karopdovv,
ev PLOTT) p.6lpav 8' ou Tt (pvyclv tiropev.
DEMOSTHENES, jD<? Corona^ 822
IDEM
ANGLICE REDDITUM
' I VHESE are the heroes, for their country's weal
Who dared the strife and made the proud foe
reel.
'Twixt praise and shame — for such high stakes
they vied —
Careless of living, Death they bade decide.
And this for Hellas' sake, that she might be
From tyrant's pride and yoke of bondsmen free.
Sore was their toil — but now their motherland's
Dear bosom folds them — so great Zeus commands.
Unfailing, all-availing, is his power,
To men no respite gives he from their hour.
XVI
THE SLEEP OF THE BRAVE
TTQW sleep the brave who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes blest !
When Spring with dewy fingers cold
Shall deck with flowers their hallow'd mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
W. COLLINS
IDEM
LATINE REDDITUM
TP\IC quam soporem rite petunt viri
"^^^Quos morte victos dignus amor beat
Et patria extollit sepultos !
Nempe ubi ver rediens sacratam
Terram benignis roribus illinet,
Florum creatrix, gratior hinc solo
Caespes virebit, quam bcato
Qui nitet Hesperidum recessu.
XVII
HEBREW MELODIES
' I VHY days are done, thy fame begun ;
Thy country's strains record
The triumphs of her chosen son,
The slaughters of his sword,
The deeds he did, the fields he won,
The freedom he restored !
Though thou art fall'n, while we are free,
Thou shalt not taste of death !
The generous blood that flowed from thee
Disdained to sink beneath :
Within our veins its currents be,
Thy spirit on our breath !
Thy name our charging hosts along
Shall be the battle-word,
IDEM
LATINE REDDITUM
TJRIMA tibi famae quae lux fuit ultima vitae,
In fastis patriae commemorandus eris,
Seu referunt natus quot duxerit ante triumphos,
Seu quoties tulerit fervidus ensis opem,
Qualia facta manu dederit, quos straverit hostes,
Restituens populo libera jura suo.
Tu licet occideris, dum sors stet libera nobis,
Non tibi vis Stygii n6rit obesse Dei.
Egregius sanguis tibi qui manavit abundans
Non potuit vilem tingere opertus humum.
O utinam venas liceat percurrere nostras,
Dum tuus in nostro spiritus ore viget !
Nomen, ubi ad bellum praeceps impellitur agmen,
Nota manus fausta tessera ducet. avi.
E
66 HEBREW MELODIES
Thy fall the theme of choral song
From virgin voices poured,
To weep would do thy glory wrong,
Thou shalt not be deplored !
LORD BYRON
IDEM 67
Mors tua carminibus lyricis cantabitur ultro,
Fata puellari concclebrante choro,
Scilicet official lacrimarum copia famae,
Non tua qui nimium funera ploret erit !
XVIII
THE TWO VOICES
T SUNG the joyful Paean clear,
A And, sitting, burnish'd without fear
The band, the buckler, and the spear —
Waiting to strive a happy strife,
To war with falsehood to the knife,
And not to lose the good of life.
At least, not rotting like a weed,
But, having sown some generous seed,
Fruitful of further thought and deed,
To pass, when Life her light withdraws,
Not void of righteous self-applause,
Nor in a merely selfish cause —
IDEM
LATINE REDDITUM
laetis dum recino modis,
Felix sedebam, nee minus interim
Hastamque et umbonem polibam
Et gladium vacuus timore.
Feliciorem Martis imaginem
Spe providebam, quo mihi proelium
Tentare cum falsis liceret,
Munere nee spoliare vitam,
Nee quale gramen tabet inutile
Putrescere ; at mox, semine nobili
Sparse, quod augescens opimum
Consilium pariterque agendi
Vim gignat altam, sit mihi cedere
Vita probanti quod bene fecimus,
Nee lucra plus aequo pctenti,
Lumine cum spoliatur aetas.
70 THE TWO VOICES
In some good cause, nor in mine own,
To perish, wept for, honour'd, known,
And like a warrior overthrown :
Whose eyes are dim with glorious tears,
When, soil'd with noble dust, he hears
His country's war-song thrill his ears :
Then dying of a mortal stroke,
What time the foeman's line is broke,
And all the war is roll'd in smoke.
LORD TENNYSON
IDEM 71
O si perirem fortiter, baud mea
Causa laborans, sed velut inclitus
Bellator oppressus sub hoste
Civibus heu ! nimium querendi
Fit causa, lapso lumina cui rigant
Fletus adorti, pulvere nobili
Cum sparsus audivit suorum
Bella ciens resonare carmen.
Tune ille plaga non medicabili
Procumbit ictus, tempore quo nigrae
Martis volutantur tenebrae,
Oppositumque fugatur agmen.
PART II
OTHER TRANSLATIONS
XIX
AGONIE DE MOINE
kAITES mise'ricorde au vieux moine qui meurt,
Et recevez son ame entre vos mains, Seigneur.
Quand les maux lui crieront que sa force profonde
A termini le cours de sa vie en ce monde,
Quand ses regards vitreux, obscurcis et^troubl£s,
Enverront leurs adieux vers les cieux ^toiles ;
Quand se rencontrera, dans les affres des Sevres,
Une dcrniere fois, votre nom sur ses levres j
THE MONK'S DEATH BED
T TAVE mercy on the aged monk who is about
to die,
Receive his soul into Thy hands, we pray Thee, Lord
Most High !
When evil spirits cry to him that that enthroned
power
Which was his life, has spent its strength, and
brought him to this hour ;
When, as the darkness glooms and falls upon his
glazing eyes,
They turn their last beclouded glance up to the
starlit skies ;
When, mid delirium's horror, on his lips a single
word
Breathed for the last time, faintly sounds — that word
Thy name, O Lord ;
76 AGONIE DE MOINE
Quand il se raidira dans un supreme effort,
La chair epouvante"e a 1'aspect de la mort ;
Quand, 1'esprit obscurci du travail des teViebres,
II cherchera la croix avec des mains funebres;
Quand on recouvrira de cendres son front ras
Et que pour bien mourir on croisera ses bras ;
Quand on lui donnera pour supreme amnistie,
Pour lampe de voyage et pour soleil, 1'hostie ;
Quand les cierges veillants p&liront de lueurs
Son visage lave" des dernieres sueurs
THE MONK'S DEATH BED 77
When the poor body in affright, as fearful Death
draws nigh,
Grows rigid in a final throe of hapless energy ;
When as the gathering shadows creep about his
clouded mind,
He fumbles with his dying hands, if they the cross
may find ;
When ashes on his shaven brow are laid, and on
his breast
His stiffening arms are crossed, that so his ending
may be blest ;
When the last pardon is pronounced, and he is
given the Host —
A lamp by night, a sun by day, to guide his flitting
ghost ;
When the last drop of sweat is wiped from off his
pallid face
Under the glimmering tapers that keep vigil in that
place ;
78 AGONIE DE MOINE
Quand on abaissera sa tombante paupiere,
A toute 6ternit£, sur son lobe de pierre j
Quand, raides et se'che's, ses membres verdiront,
Et que les premiers vers en ses flancs germeront ;
Quand on le descendra, sit6t la nuit tombe'e,
Parmi les ancicns morts qui dorment sous I'herb^e ;
Quand 1'oubli prompt sera sur sa fosse agrafe,
Comme uS" fermoir de fer sur un livre e'touffe' :
Faites miseVicorde a son humble me'moire,
Seigneur, et que son &nie ait place en votre gloire !
THE MONK'S DEATH BED 79
When hands his drooping eyelids touch, and gently
fold them down
To rest for all eternity on eyeballs turned to stone ;
When on his dry and rigid limbs the damp begins
to form,
And in his rotting entrails sprouts the birthplace of
the worm ;
When men his body lift, as soon as night-time is
abroad,
And lay it with the ancient dead who sleep beneath
the sward ;
When prompt oblivion closes tight his grave within
its grasp,
And makes it as a strangled book shut by an iron
clasp ;
Look on his humble memory, with mercy in Thy
face,
And, where Thou art in glory, Lord, grant to his
soul a place !
XX
ANTON MOR
"p\ANS leur cadre d'e"bene et d'or
"^~^ Les personnages d' Anton Mor
Pers£cutent de leur silence.
Masques terreux, visages durs,
Serres dans leurs secrets obscurs,
Et leur aust£rit6 mechanic.
Haute allure, maintien cruel,
Orgueil rigide et textuel :
Barons, docteurs et capitaines.
Leurs doigts sont maigres et fluets
Us fignoleraient des jouets
Et d£traqueraient des empires.
ANTONIO MORE
T?ROM their frames of black and gold
Gaze the figures mute and cold
Whom Antonio More of old
Limned — the silence of their stare
Doth torment me everywhere ;
Masks of clay their faces are.
Hard the features, and there lies
Evil in those austere eyes/
With their unprobed mysteries.
Baron, doctor, captain shows
Cruelty in high repose,
Pride that no concession knows.
Fingers long and lean have they,
Fingers apt with toys to play
Or an empire to betray.
82 ANTON MOR
Us cachent sous leurs fronts ch6tifs
Les fiers vouloirs rebarbatifs,
Et les vices des tyrannies,
Et le caprice renaissant
De voir du sang rosir le sang
Se'ch^ trop vite aux coins des ongles.
EMILE VERHAEREN
ANTONIO MORE 83
'Neath their narrow foreheads lie
Wills that slightest curb defy,
Every vice of tyranny ;
And the finger-stain of gore
Scarce hath time to dry, before
They must redden it once more.
XXI
FROM "LES UNES ET LES
AUTRES "
TT\ONNEZ vos mains, donnez vos yeux,
Vos yeux qui brillent dans mes songes ;
Pour charmer mon coeur anxieux
Donnez vos mains, donnez vos yeux,
Vos yeux d'e'toile et de mensonge.
Donnez vos yeux, donnez vos mains,
Donnez vos mains magiciennes ;
Pour me guider par les chemins
Donnez vos yeux, donnez vos mains,
Vos mains d'Infante dans les miennes,
Donnez vos mains, donnez vos yeux,
Vos yeux d'e'toile qui se leve ;
Donnez-moi, pour nous aimer mieux,
Donnez vos mains, donnez vos yeux,
Vos yeux dans le soir de mon rive.
YOUR HANDS AND EYES
me your hands, give me your eyes,
Your eyes that sparkle in my dream ;
My troubled heart to exorcise
Give me your hands, give me your eyes,
Stars that beguile me as they gleam.
Give me your eyes, give me your hands,
Your hands with their magician's spell;
To guide me through the unknown lands
Give me your eyes, give me your hands,
Your hands, Princess, in mine to dwell.
Give me your hands, give me your eyes,
Like stars that rise athwart the night ;
To lend our love new ecstasies
Give me your hands, give me your eyes,
The shadows of my dream to light.
86 FROM "LES UNES ET LES AUTRES"
Donnez vos yeux, donncz vos mains,
Donnez vos mains surnaturelles ;
Pour me conduirc aux lendemains
Donnez vos yeux, donnez vos mains,
Vos mains comme deux roses freles.
HENRY C. SPIESS
YOUR HANDS AND EYES 87
Give me your eyes, give me your hands.
Hands from some spirit-world afar ;
To lead me to the morrow-lands
Give me your eyes, give me your hands,
That like two fragile roses are.
XXII
LES MAINS
T ES mains que je vois en r£ve
^~* Faire signe a mon destin,
M'ont promis des roses breves
Et des lys lointains.
Les mains que je voudrais miennes
Pour leurs gestes inconnus
Ont des bagues anciennes
A leur doigts menus.
Les mains qu'il faudrait aux fievres
De ma bouche et de mes yeux,
Sont plus douces que les reVes
Et caressent mieux.
Quand j'ai cru les reconnaitre
Ma vie a toujours dout£.
He"las ! elles n'ont peut-£tre
Jamais existe".
THE HANDS
x I VHE hands I see in dreamland
My destiny allure,
Have offered me frail roses
And far-off lilies pure.
The hands I fain would capture
For these strange ministerings
Upon their taper fingers
Are hung with antique rings.
The hands to cool the fever
Of my poor lips and eyes,
Are softer, more caressing,
Than dreams of Paradise.
Whene'er I think I've met them
My soul in doubt has been.
Ah ! can it be that never
Those hands in life were seen ?
9o LES MAINS
Mais pour avoir r£v£ d'elles
Un soir, il y a longtemps
Je leur suis reste fiddle,
Et jc les attends.
HENRY C. SPIESS
THE HANDS 91
And yet, since once in dreamland
They did my fancy fill,
I never have forgotten —
I wait, I wait them still !
XXIII
RUINES DU CCEUR
"J% /TON coeur e"tait jadis comme palais remain,
Tout construit de granits choisis, de marbres
rares,
Bient6t les passions, comme un flot de barbares,
L'envahirent, la hache ou la torche au main.
Ce fut une ruine alors. Nul bruit humain,
Viperes et hiboux. Terrains de fleurs avares.
Partout gisaient, bris6s, porphyres et carrares :
Et les ronces avaient efface le chemin.
Je suis rest6 longtemps, seul, devant mon d£sastre,
Des midis sans soleil, des minuits sans un astre,
Passerent, et j'ai la v£cu d'horribles jours ;
Mais tu parus enfin, blanche dans la lumiere,
Et bravement, afin de loger nos amours,
Des debris du palais j'ai b&ti ma chaumiere.
FRANCOIS COPPEE
MY HEART IN RUINS
TONG ago my heart was like a Roman palace,
•^•^ Made of choice granites, decked with marbles
rare ;
Soon came the passions, like a horde of vandals,
Came and invaded it, with axe and torch aglare.
Then it was a ruin. Not a human sound there !
Only owls and vipers — wastes of creeping flowers ;
Porphyry, Carrara, everywhere lay broken,
Brambles had o'ergrown the paths between the
bowers.
Long time, alone, I gazed on my disaster,
Many a sunless noontide, many a starless night
Passed, and I lived there days begirt with horror,
Till thou appearedst, white in the light.
Bravely then, to find a lodging for our two loves,
Puilded I my hut from the ruins of that site.
XXIV
ROMANCE SANS PAROLE
TL plcure dans mon coeur
Comme il pleut sur la villc,
Quelle est cette langueur
Qui pe"netre mon coeur ?
O bruit doux de la pluie
Par terrc et sur les toits !
Pour un coeur qui s'ennuie,
O le chant de la pluie !
II pleure sans raison
Dans ce coeur qui s'^coeure.
Quoi ! nulle trahison ?
Ce deuil est sans raison.
RAIN
>"TAEARS rain within my heart,
•*• As rain falls on the town,
Oh ! wherefore is my heart
With heaviness bowed down ?
Oh ! soft sound of the rain
On earth and roof-tops falling !
Oh ! sweet voice of the rain
The dreary heart enthralling !
In my disconsolate heart
Tears rain without a reason ;
Senseless thy grief, Oh heart,
That naught hast known of treason !
96 ROMANCE SANS PAROLE
C'est bien la pire peine
De ne savoir pourquoi,
Sans amour et sans haine,
Mon coeur a tant de peine !
PAUL VERLAINE
RAIN 97
Truly the pain I rate
Hardest, is not to know
Why, without love or hate,
My heart is steeped in woe !
XXV
ROUTE PRINTANIERE
TA route est rose de pommiers,
^~^ Je vais vers ma belle ;
Et le ciel est blanc de ramiers,
Elle est fraiche et frele.
Les pommiers sont de grands bouquets,
Je vais vers ma belle ;
Les ramiers s'aiment aux bosquets,
C'est ma tourterelle.
La ros£e emperle les pres,
Je vais vers ma belle ;
Tous les pr£s sont blancs et dores,
Son rire £tincelle.
Les ruisseaux, remplis de chansons —
Je vais vers ma belle ;
THE SPRING ROAD
'"T^HE road is pink with apple trees —
I go to meet my love,
So fresh and frail — the ring-doves' wings
Make white the sky above.
The apple trees are thick with bloom —
I go to meet my love —
The ring-doves court amid the groves,
She is my turtle-dove.
The dew-drops deck the fields like pearls —
I go to meet my love —
The fields are white and gold* — her laugh
Rings in the air above.
The limpid streams, all full of songs —
I go to meet my love —
* i.e., white with daisies and gold with buttercups.
ioo ROUTE PRINTANIERE
Les ruisseaux clairs dans les gazons
Sont moins souples qu'elle.
Mai de parfums enivre 1'air,
Je vais vers ma belle ;
Moi, je suis ivre de sa chair,
Chaque jour nouvelle.
Sous 1'azur d'ailes tressaillant,
Je vais vers ma belle ;
Ohl ! le chemin rose et blanc
Qui conduit vers elle !
AUGUSTE ANGELLIER
THE SPRING ROAD 101
Gliding amid the grass, are not
So supple as my love.
The air is drunk with scents of May —
I go to meet my love —
And I am drunk with her fair face,
Each day I live and move.
Under the blue, astir with wings —
I go to meet my love —
Oh ! pink and white the roadway is
That leads me to my love !
XXVI
A L'AMIE PERDUE
1% /TON coeur ita.it un marbre en une ronceraie,
Dans un sender banal aux yeux de tous place",
Ou le hasard sans cesse e"crirait a la craie
Quelque nom par la pluie aussitot efface".
Mais 1' Amour, arrachant les ronces et 1'ivraie,
Les jeta dans les airs d'un geste courrouce',
Et sculpta lentement, d'une main ferme et vraie,
Un nom profonddmeut et pour toujours fix£.
Puis il mit tout autour un grillage de fer,
Aux quatre coins duquel il dressa des statues
Au corps de marbre blanc, mais d'airain revenues
THE MARBLE HEART
71 /TY heart a marble was, reared in a bramble waste,
•*• That in a common path, for all to see, was
placed,
Where Chance upon the stone with hand untiring
wrote
Some name that by the rain was speedily washed out.
But Love tore up the weeds and brambles that
were there,
And angrily he took and flung them in the air,
And slowly did engrave, with true and steadfast hand,
One name, carved deep thereon, that evermore will
stand.
Then with an iron rail he did the spot surround
And set four statues at the corners of the ground,
On whose white marble limbs a robe of brass was
bound.
104 A L'AMIE PERDUE
Ce sont le Souvenir, 1'Espoir, le Pardon fier,
Le DeVoument, debout comme des sentinclles
Gardant contre le Temps des choses 6ternelles.
AUGUSTS ANGELLIER
THE MARBLE HEART 105
These four are Hope, Fidelity, Forgiveness proud,
Remembrance, who like sentinels, with heads unbowed,
To guard the eternal things from shocks of Time
are vowed.
XXVII
ADIEU
A DIECJ ! je crois qu'en cette vie
Je ne te reverrai jamais.
Dieu passe, il t'appelle et m'oublie,
En te perdant, je sens que je t'aimais.
Pas de pleurs, pas de plainte vaine,
Je sais respecter 1'avenir.
Vienne la voile qui t'emmene,
En souriant je la verrai partir !
Tu t'en vas pleine d'espeYance,
Avec orgueil tu reviendras ;
Mais ceux qui vont souffrir de ton absence
Tu ne les reconnaitras pas.
Adieu ! tu vas faire un beau reVe,
Et t'enivrer d'un plaisir dangereux :
FAREWELL
T7AREWELL ! for I think that below
I never shall see thy face more ;
God passeth, He biddeth thee go
And leaveth me. Losing thee so
I feel that I loved thee before.
No weeping, no useless lament !
I can pay to the future its due ;
Come the sail that for thee has been sent,
I shall smile as I bid it Adieu.
Full of hope art thou, going away,
With pride wilt thou come back again,
But there'll ne'er be a greeting to say
To those who in mourning remain.
Farewell ! a bright dream is in store,
Thou wilt drink to the lees of delight,
io8 ADIEU
Sur ton chemin I'e'toile qui se leve
Longtemps encore eblouira les yeux.
Un jour tu sentiras peut-e'tre
Le prix d'un coeur qui nous comprend,
Le bien qu'on trouve a le connaitre,
Et ce qu'on souffre en le perdant.
ALFRED DE MUSSET
FAREWELL 109
A star shines thy journey before,
Longtime will it dazzle thy sight.
One day thou wilt value the cost
Of the heart that is swift to discern —
Their profit who cherish it most,
Their anguish the treasure who spurn.
XXVIII
SON EPITAPHE
qui ci maintenant dort
Fit plus de pitie que d'envie,
Et souffrit mille fois la mort
Avant que de perdre la vie.
Passant, ne fais ici de bruit,
Prends garde qu'aucun ne 1'eVeille ;
Car voici la premiere nuit
Que le pauvre Scarron sommeille.
PAUL SCARRON*
* Scarron (1610-1660), it will be remembered, was the poor
deformed, half-paralysed dramatist and poet who was the first
husband of Mme. de Maintenon.
THE EPITAPH OF SCARRON
him whose resting-place you view
Pity, not envy, was the due ;
A thousand times he suffered death
While on this earth he still drew breath.
Oh I passer by, make here no noise,
Let no man walce him with his voice ;
For ne'er, before this night, did sleep
Upon poor Scarron's eyelids creep.
XXIX
SUR UNE DAME POETE
GLE, belle et poete, a deux petits travers ;
Elle fait son visage, et ne fait pas ses vers.
P. D. LEBRUN
,
*"*K •'
THE LADY POET
is fair, a poet too,
Two little whims she nurses ;
She knows how to make up her face,
But not, alas, her verses !
XXX
DIALOGUE ENTRE UN PAUVRE
POETE ET L'AUTEUR
vient de me voler ! — Que je plains ton
malheur !
— Tous mes vers manuscrits ! — Que je plains
le voleur !
P. D. LEBRUN
THE POET AND THE THIEF
" A RASCAL 'S been and carried off"—
" I'm sorry for your grief ! " —
" The manuscript of all my odes " —
"I'm sorry for the thief"!
XXXI
EPITAPHE
dont la supreme loi
Fut de ne vivre que pour soi,
Passant, garde-toi de le suivre ;
Car on pourrait dire de toi :
Ci-git qui ne dut jamais vivre."
VOLTAIRE
THE SELFISH MAN
T TERE lieth who no law did own
•*• •*• Save for himself to live alone ;
Stranger, by him be thou not led,
Else haply 'twill of thee be said —
" He never should have lived, who's dead.'
XXXII
INSCRIPTION POUR UNE
STATUE DE L'AMOUR
UI que tu sois, voici ton maitre ;
II Test, le fut, ou le doit etre.
VOLTAIRE
ON A STATUE OF LOVE
TT7HOFER thou art, thy master he-
Is now, was once, or ought to be.
XXXIII
EPIGRAMS QUOTED IN LORD
CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS TO
HIS SON
DIDON
pAUVRE Didon ! ou t'a nSduite
De tes maris le triste sort ?
L'un en mourant cause ta fuite,
L'autre en fuyant cause ta mort !
Letter IV.
COLAS
est mort de maladie,
Tu veux que j'en pleure le sort ;
Que diable veux tu que j'en die ?
Colas vivoit, Colas est mort.
Letters XLVIII, cvi.
DIDO'S SPOUSES
T)OOR Dido, brought to what a state
By your two spouses' doleful fate !
The first* in dying made you fly,
The second'st flight now makes you die !
ON AN INSIGNIFICANT FELLOW
/""^OLLEY fell ill, and is no more!
^-^ His fate you bid me to deplore ;
But what the deuce is to be said ?
Colley was living, Colley 's dead.
Sichttus.
XXXIV
THE INFERNO
CANTO V, 25-142
/"VRA incomincian le dolenti note
A farmisi sentire : or son venuto
La dove molto pianto mi percuote.
lo venni in loco d'ogni luce muto,
Che mugghia, come fa mar per tempesta,
Se da contrari venti e combattuto.
La bufera infernal, che mai non resta,
Mena gli spirti con la sua rapina ;
Voltando e percotendo li molesta.
Quando giungon davanti alia ruina,
Quivi le strida, il compianto e il lamento ;
Bestemmian quivi la Virtu divina.
Intesi, che a cosi fatto tormento
THE SECOND CIRCLE :
PAOLO AND FRANCESCA
A ND now the cries of suffering begin
^To reach me, as I draw more near ;
Now have I entered on a place wherein
There strikes upon my ear
Wailing incessant. To a spot I came,
Void of all light, which, like a sea
Lashed with opposing winds that naught can tame,
Bellows in agony.
The storm infernal, that no respite knows,
Driveth the spirits on its wrack,
Tossing and smiting them with dreadful blows
Of manifold attack.
But when before the ruinous steep* they come,
With shrieks and moaning they repine,
* Laruina, the ruin, is the name applied by the poet to the
precipitous and shattered rocks that bound the circles in Hell,
124 THE INFERNO
Eran dannati i peccator carnali,
Che la ragion sommettono al talento.
E come gli stornei ne portan 1' ali,
Nel freddo tempo, a schiera larga e plena,
Cosl quel fiato gli spiriti mali
Di qua, di la, di gift, di su gli mena.
Nulla speranza gli conforta mai,
Non che di posa, ma di minor pena.
E come i gru van cantando lor lai,
Facendo in aer di se lunga riga ;
Cosi vid' io venir, traendo guai,
Ombre portate dalla delta briga:
Per ch* io dissi : Maestro, chi son quelle
Genti, che 1' aer nero si gastiga ?
La prima di color, di cui novelle
Tw vuoi saper, mi disse quegli allotta,
THE SECOND CIRCLE 125
And there do many, who till now were dumb,
Blaspheme the Power Divine.
To such a torment is condemned the band
Of carnal sinners, who to lust
Enslaved their reasons in foul bondage, and,
As starlings in a gust
During cold weather, on their wings unfurled,
In swarming companies are blown,
So the bad spirits by that blast are whirled
Here, there, and up and down !
No hope their woeful destiny allays
Of rest, or e'en of milder pains ;
And, as one sees aloft, what time their lays
They chant, a file of cranes,
So saw I flock, by that tempestuous breeze
Upborne, and wailing like a dirge,
The shades — whereat I [questioned, " Who are these,
Whom the black air doth scourge ? "
126 THE INFERNO
Fu imperatrice di molte favellc.
A vizio di lussuria fu si rotta,
Che libito fe' licito in sua legge
Per torre il biasmo, in che era condotta.
Ell' e Semiramis, di cui si legge,
Che succedette a Nino, e fu sua sposa :
Tenne la terra, che il Soldan corregge.
L' altra e colei, che s' ancise amorosa,
E ruppe fede al cener di Sicheo;
Poi e Cleopatras lussuriosa.
Elena vidi, per cui tanto reo
Tempo si volse ; e vidi il grande Achille,
Che con amore al fine combatteo.
Vidi Paris, Tristano ; e piu di mille
Ombre mostrommi, e nominolle a dito,
Ch' amor di nostra vita dipartille.
THE SECOND CIRCLE 127
To which my Master made reply, "The first
Of whom thou would'st hear tell, is she,
Empress of many tongues, who was accurst
With vice of lechery.
" That lust should lawful be did she ordain,
So to escape her guilt of this,
Ninus' Queen and heir — where Sultans reign
Of late — Semiramis.
"The other slew herselr, with torments vexed
By passion, who had faithless been
To the dead ashes of Sichaeus ; next,
Egypt's voluptuous Queen."
Paris I saw, and Tristan, Helen too
Whose sin so long a penance prove,
And there I saw the great Achilles, who
Fought at the end with love.*
More than a thousand shadows he did name
And showed me, who for love had died,
* Achilles wai slain in the Temple of Apollo, through the
treachery of Paris, whose sister Polyxena he had gone to wed.
i28 THE INFERNO
Poscia ch* io ebbi il mio Dottore udito
Nomar le donne antiche e i cavalieri,
Pieta mi vinse, e fui quasi smarrito.
Io cominciai : Poeta, volentieri
Parlerei a que' duo, che insieme vanno,
E paion si al vento esser leggieri.
Ed egli a me : Vedrai, quando saranno
Piu presso a noi ; e tu allor li prega
Per quell* amor che i mena ; e quei verranno.
Si tosto come il vento a noi li piega,
Muovo la voce: O anime affannate,
Venite a noi parlar, s' altri noi niega.
Quali colombe, dal disio chiamate,
Con 1* ali aperte e ferme al dolce nido
Volan per 1* aer dal voler portate :
Cotali uscir della schiera ov' e Dido,
THE SECOND CIRCLE 129
Many an ancient cavalier and dame —
Whereat, for ruth, I cried
As one confounded, " Poet, with that pair
To speak awhile is in my mind,
Who fly together, hovering in the air
So light upon the wind."
And he to me, "Ere long when they draw near
Thou wilt behold them, and shalt pray
By that sad passion which has brought them here,
And they will come straightway."
Soon as the wind inclines them in its course
" Oh ! troubled souls," aloud I cry,
" Come now, that with us ye may hold discourse,
If haply none deny."
As doves by longing called, with outspread wing
Fly steady to their happy nest,
By will borne onwards, so, from out the ring
That around Dido pressed,
130 THE INFERNO
A noi venendo per 1* aer maligno,
Si forte fu 1* affettuoso grido.
O animal grazioso e benigno,
Che visitando vai per 1' aer perso
Noi che tignemmo il mondo di sanguigno :
Se fosse amico il Re dell' universe,
Noi pregheremmo lui per la tua pace,
Poi che hai piet& del nostro mal perverso.
Di quel che udire e che parlar ti piace
Noi udiremo e parleremo a vui,
Mentre che il vento, come fa, si tace.
Siede la terra, dove nata fui,
Su la marina dove il Po discende
Per aver pace co* seguaci sui.
Amor, che al cor gentil ratto s' apprende,
Prese costui della bella persona
THE SECOND CIRCLE 131
They issued, floating through the baleful gloom.
(With voice so tender-strong I cried) —
" O thou that through the purple air hast come
To us, the earth who dyed
"With blood, O being gracious and benign,
If but the King of th' Universe
Were friendly, we would pray that peace be thine,
Since on our fate perverse
"Thou hast compassion. Now, whate'er thy will
Contenteth thee to hear or say,
That will we hear and answer make, while still
The wind its blast doth stay.
" Lieth the land, that gave me birth, upon
The shore, where Po descends to rest
With his companion rivers. Love, which soon
Is caught by gentle breast,
"Captured his passion lor the body fair
Of me, ere I was reft of it —
132 THE INFERNO
Che mi fu tolta, e il modo ancor m* offende.
Amor, che a nullo amato amar perdona,
Mi prese del costui piacer si forte,
Che, come vedi, ancor non m' abbandona.
Amor condusse noi ad una morte :
Caina attende chi vita ci spense.
Queste parole da lor ci fur porte.
Da che io intesi quelle anime offense,
Chinai il viso, e tanto il tenni basso,
Finche il Poeta mi disse : Che pense ?
Quando risposi, cominciai : O lasso !
Quanti dolci pensier, quanto disio
Menu costoro al doloroso passo !
Poi mi rivolsi a loro, e parlai io,
E cominciai : Francesca, i tuoi martiri
A lagrimar mi fanno tristo e pio.
THE SECOND CIRCLE 133
Still doth the manner wound me — Love, who'll ne'er
In loved ones love remit,
" Caught me so closely in the self-same snare,
That in no wise its hold abates.*
Love led us to a single death. Elsewhere
Cain's place the murderer waits."
After those wounded spirits I had heard,
I bowed my face, and held it low,
Until the Poet spake to me this word
" What thing revolvest thou ? "
To whom in answer I began, " Alas !
What tender thoughts, what yearning pain
Have brought them hither to this dolorous pass ! "
Then, turned to them again,
I said, "Francesca, for thine agonies
My tears in grief and pity flow,
But, tell me, in the season of sweet sighs,
By what it was, and how,
* Translators differ in regarding amor and costui (i.e. Paolo)
as the subjec of abbandon*. The former is here preferred.
134 THE INFERNO
Ma dimmi : al tempo de' dolci sospiri,
A che, e come concedette amore,
Che conosceste i dubbiosi desiri ?
Ed ella a me : Nessun maggior dolore,
Che ricordarsi del tempo felice
Nella miseria ; e cio sa il tuo Dottore.
Ma se a conoscer la prima radice
Del nostro amor tu hai cotanto affetto,
Faro come colui che piange e dice.
Noi leggevamo un giorno per diletto
Di Lancillotto, come amor lo strinsc :
Soli eravamo e senza alcun sospetto.
Per piu fiate gli occhi ci sospinse
Quella lettura, e scolorocci il viso :
Ma solo un punto fu quel che ci vinse.
Quando leggemmo il disiato riso
THE SECOND CIRCLE 135
" Love suffered thee the rash desires to learn."
Then she, " There is no greater woe
Than to old happiness from grief to turn ;
This doth thy Teacher know.
" Yet, if to hear the first root of our love
So strong a craving in thee dwells,
The tale I will unfold, my trust to prove,
Like one who weeps and tells.
" One day for pastime we of Lancelot read,
How love's grip held him tight. Alone
We were, together, and nor heart nor head
Did least suspicion own.
" But oftentimes that reading urged our eyes
To meet, and made our cheeks to pale ;
E'en so we had escaped, but one surprise
Did at the last prevail.
"For when that lover's fate we must pursue
Till the fond smile he leaned to kiss,
136 THE INFERNO
Esser baciato da cotanto amante,
Questi, che mai da me non fia diviso,
La bocca mi bacio tutto tremante :
Galeotto fu il libro, e chi lo scrisse :
Quel giorno piu non vi leggemmo avante.
Mentre che 1* uno spirto questo disse,
L' altro piangeva si, che di pietade
lo venni men cosl com' io morisse ;
E caddi, come corpo morto cade.
DANTE ALIGHIERI
THE SECOND CIRCLE 137
Then he, who nevermore shall leave me, drew
My trembling lips to his.
" The book and scribe were Galahad. That day
We read no more." While this she said,
So sore he wailed, for ruth I swooned away,
And fell, as one that's dead.
XXXV
A VISION
FROM "THE GATE OF IVORY"
(Virgil, Mneid VI, 895)
/"T"*HE winds of heaven waft her
Through shutter bolts and bars,
Like meteors streaming after
From worlds beyond the stars.
Through shutter bars and casement
Behold the vision glide !
And now with sweet amazement
I see it at my side.
With lover's arms extended
I claim her for my own ;
That beauty rare and splendid
Is mine, is mine alone.
She bends, she breathes, her kisses
Rain lightly on my brow.
A VISION 139
Surely like Heaven this is —
I am immortal now !
Immortal ! Fond illusion !
I wake — the dream has fled —
O spare me this confusion,
Kind God, and strike me dead !
XXXVI
LOVE SONG FROM THE INDIAN
T WOULD have torn the stars from the heavens
for your necklace,
I would have stripped the rose-leaves for your
couch from all the trees,
I would have spoiled the East of its spices for your
perfume,
The West of all its wonders, to endower you with
these.
I would have drained the ocean, to find its rarest
pearl-drops,
And melt them for your lightest thirst in ruby
draughts of wine ;
I would have dug for gold, till the earth was void
of treasure,
That, since you had no riches, you might freely
take of mine.
LOVE SONG FROM THE INDIAN 141
I would have drilled the sunbeams to guard you
through the daytime,
I would have caged the nightingales to lull you
to your rest ;
But love was all you asked for, in waking or in
sleeping,
And love I give you, sweetest, at my side, and
on my breast !
XXXVIL
DEATH AND BEYOND
TOVS
ov yap Tfdvacriv, «XXa TTJV aiirr]v o8(>v
T)V iriuriv f\6f'iv f(TT dvayicaius e^ov,
irpof\r)\{)da(riv' tira XW& varepov
fts TOVTO Karayatyeiov avrois rj£o/4fv,
y TOV aXXov (rvi>8iaTpi\l/oi>Tfs xpo
ANTIPHANES
IDEM
ANGLICE REDDITUM
those by love or kinship dear
Shed lightly, friend, the mournful tear ;
They are not dead, but gone before
By the road to all men fated.
Soon too shall we, each in our turn,
Their footsteps follow to that bourn,
To live through time for evermore
With those dear ones re-mated.
XXXVIII
FROM THE ANTHOLOGY
fl(ra6p(1s acrrrjp epos' tWe yfvoip.rjv
ovpavos, us TTO\\OIS ojj.p.ao'ii' fls (ft /SXeTrw*
PLATO
IDEM
ANGLICE REDDITUM
OTAR that most I love,
To the stars above
Thou thine eyes doth raise ;
Would I were the skies
With a thousand eyes
In thine eyes to gaze !
a , v *t • . so ^^ , ,
, v : / - .•„
~*»>
- ^-
XXXIX
FROM THE ANTHOLOGY
ucrrrjp, TTplv p.ev eXo/xTres eVt £o)oTcrti> 'Eaios"
vvv 8f Gavaiv Xci/iTrets "Ecnrtpos (v
PLATO
IDEM
LATINE REDDITUM
OTELLA prius vivis Eoa luce nitebas,
At nunc Hesperio Manibus orbe nites.
IDEM
ANGLICE REDDITUM
OTAR that to the living once thy light wast giving
In the East, on high,
Now that life has fled, lightest thou the dead
From the Western sky.
XL
INSCRIPTION
CARVED BY ASCLEPIODOTUS, ON THE
PEDESTAL OF MEMNON (AMUNOPH III)
AT EGYPTIAN THEBES
Corpus Inscriptionum Graccarum 474?
Zcieu', flvaXir) Qtn, Mepvova KOI fjitya <pa>velv
[idvdavf fJ.r)Tp(arj \ap.ird$i 6a\jrop.€vov)
AlyvTTTOv AipvKfjcriv vir' oippvcriv, evd* aTrordfivd
KaXXiVvXov Qrjflrjv NeTXoj fXavvopevoS'
TOV 8e pd^rjs aKopijTOv 'A^iXXea (JLTJT' evl Tpaxav
<f>dfyyfar6ai Trefit'o) p.rjrf eVt
S /fa f
(t
*
IDEM
ANGLICE REDDITUM
SEA-BORN Thetis, know that when
His mother's torch is lit
Memnon awakes and cries aloud,
Fired by the warmth of it.
Beneath the brow of Libyan heights,
Where Nilus cuts in twain
The city of the glorious gates,
He wakes to life again.
Yet thine Achilles, who in fight
Ne'er slaked his savage joy,
On the Thessalian plains is mute,
Is mute on those of Troy.
XLI
INSCRIPTION
PLACED ABOVE A BATH OF RUNNING
WATER IN A FISHING-HOUSE (1770)
TJ roov -v
TOLOV
v8u>p TfKfv, fj Kvdepeia
IDEM
ANGLICE REDDITUM
T"\IVINE as was the wave that bare
"^-^ Sweet Cytherea, so, whene'er
She dipped her body in the wave,
Divinity to it she gave.
XLII
THE MYTH OF ER
THE MYTH OF ER
OR, THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL
r' I VHE following is an attempt to render in English
verse, and in the metre popularised by Tennyson
in the "Palace of Art," the most beautiful of the various
myths or allegories by which the genius of Plato sought
to illustrate his belief in the Immortality of the Soul.
Here, in the tenth book of the "Republic," as in the
" Gorgias " and " Phaedo," he depicts its destinies after
death, the Judgment, the Millennium of atonement
for evil and recompense for good, the accomplished
purification, the choice of new life, the draught of
oblivion, and the second return to the world. With
a belief in the imperishable quality of the spiritual
essence is combined the doctrine of Metempsychosis,
or transfer of souls, not merely from man to man, but
from man to animal and vice versa, which had its
origin in the immemorial and unfathomable religions
of the East.
154 THE MYTH OF ER
How closely some of Plato's ideas in this allegory
correspond with those of our own and the Roman
Catholic religions, will be seen at a glance. At the
Judgment the souls are separated, the good departing
to the right and the wicked to the left of the Judges'
throne. The righteous, as in the Vision of St. John,
bear the seals of blessing on their front (cf. Rev. vii. 3).
Atonement and Redemption are achieved by a phase
of Purgatory. While for most this Purgatory is a
finite experience, yet there are some incurably tainted
souls — Ardiaeus and his fellows — who are doomed to
an eternity of Hell-fire. Great stress is laid upon free
dom of the will in the choice of good or evil. Each
individual soul is accompanied through life by a celes
tial monitor or guardian angel (cf. the angel of St.
Peter in Acts xii. 15, and vide Matt, xviii. 10).
Throughout the parable there breathes a spirit of pure
and exalted belief, such as we are apt to associate with
the dispensations of revealed religion. As has been
well said : " Under the marble exterior of Greek
literature was concealed a soul thrilling with spiritual
emotion."
Plato was himself an inveterate foe of the poets.
THE MYTH OF ER 155
But already in the next generation Aristotle, his suc
cessor and pupil, declared that his writings were
something midway between prose and poetry ; and
few will dispute that the allegory here translated is a
product of the highest poetic imagination, lending
itself as readily to the idiom and rhythm of verse as to
the form and diction of prose.
Some condensation has been required in parts of the
narrative unsuited to poetical rendering or superfluous
to the tale, but wherever possible I have adhered to
the actual words and phrases of Plato. I had contem
plated printing the Greek text opposite to my render
ing, but have concluded that it would be more helpful
to the majority of readers if I were to substitute for
it an English prose translation. I have therefore, with
the permission of Balliol College and the Clarendon
Press, Oxford, adopted Dr. Jowett's version for the
purpose.
There is a similarity of subject-matter and even of
treatment in the three Visions from Plato, Dante and
Addison, contained in Part II of this book, which has
seemed to justify the adoption of a common metre for
the purpose of translation into English.]
THE MYTH OF ER
(Plato, " Republic," Bk. x. 614-621)
" I will tell you ... a tale of a hero, Er, the son
of Armenius, a Pamphylian by birth. He was slain
in battle, and ten days afterwards, when the bodies of
the dead were taken up already in a state of corruption,
his body was found unaffected by decay, and carried
away home to be buried. And on the twelfth day,
as he was lying on the funeral pile, he returned to life
and told them what he had seen in the other world.
He said that when his soul left the body he went on a
journey with a great company, and that they came to
a mysterious place at which there were two openings
in the earth ; they were near together, and over against
them were two other openings in the heaven above.
IDEM
ANGLICE REDD1TUM
T SING of that strange chance -which fell to Er,
Armenius the Pamphylian's son,
In ghostly realms sole mortal traveller
Ere yet his days were done.
For that he died not, but the Judgment saw,
To Socrates the Seer was told,
Which thing did god-like Plato for a law
Of Spirit-Life unfold.
Ten days the warrior's corse amid the slain
Lay slain, yet no corruption knew ;
Then waking on the pyre to life again,
This marvel passed in view.
"In a strange shadowy place 'twixt earth and sky,"
Quoth he, "the Judgment-thrones are set,
Before whose steps a pallid company,
The unnumbered dead, are met.
158 THE MYTH OF ER
In the intermediate space there were judges seated,
who commanded the just, after they had given judg
ment on them and had bound their sentences in front
of them, to ascend by the heavenly way on the right
hand ; and in like manner the unjust were bidden by
them to descend by the lower way on the left hand ;
these also bore the symbols of their deeds, but fastened
on their backs. He drew near, and they told him
that he was to be the messenger who would carry the
report of the other world to men, and they bade him
hear and see all that was to be heard and seen in that
place. Then he beheld and saw on one side the souls
departing at either opening of heaven and earth when
sentence and been given on them ; and at the two
other openings other souls, some ascending out of the
earth dusty and worn with travel, some descending
IDEM 159
" And there on either hand, in sky and earth,
Twin cloudy gulfs, above, below,
Wrap up the destinies of mortal worth,
Which none unjudged may know.
" Forthwith the doom is spoken, and those souls
To left and right their journeys wend j
An heavenly gulf for these its mist unrolls,
Earthward must those descend.
" The wicked they, and on their backs are bound
The tokens of what sins were theirs ;
But the white forehead of the righteous-found
The seal of blessing wears.
(" Howbeit to him * A Prophet shalt thou be ' —
The Judges spake — * to earth from here.
Behold and hearken ! Eyes hast thou to see,
And ears withal to hear ! ')
" Thus evermore they vanish in the void,
The while from each confronting arch
Are poured two companies ; one travel-cloyed
As from a weary march,
160 THE MYTH OF ER
out of heaven clean and bright. And arriving ever
and anon they seemed to have come from a long
journey, and they went forth with gladness into the
meadow, where they encamped as at a festival ; and
those who knew one another embraced and conversed,
the souls which came from earth curiously inquiring
about the things above, and the souls which came
from heaven about the things beneath. And they
told one another of what had happened by the way,
those from below weeping and sorrowing at the
remembrance of the things which they had endured
and seen in their journey beneath the earth (now the
journey lasted a thousand years), while those from
above were describing heavenly delights and visions
of inconceivable beauty. The story would take too
long to tell ; but the sum was this : — He said that
for every wrong which they had done to any one they
suffered tenfold ; or once in a hundred years — such
being reckoned to be the length of man's life, and the
penalty being thus paid ten times in a thousand years.
IDEM 161
" But fair and fresh the band from upper air.
Then do these pilgrims, one and all,
Flock to the meadow,* and encamp them there
As at a festival.
"And sweet the courtesies and questioning
Of friends unseen since long ago ;
* In Heaven was such the mode of wayfaring ?
What cheer was theirs below ? '
"Strange sights the earth-stained saw, sad suffering
his!
For very ruth he needs must weep j
One tells of joys and magic mysteries —
He scaled the heavenly steep !
" A thousand years — so long has been the way —
Ten years to every year of man,
Tenfold the recompense that each must pay,
Once in each age's span.
* els TOV \(ip.S>va. " The " meadow, well known in Greek
mythology from the description, more especially, of Homer.
Cf. "Gorgias," 524.
L
162 THE MYTH OF ER
If, for example, there were any who had been the
cause of many deaths, or had betrayed or enslaved
cities or armies, or been guilty of any other evil
behaviour, for each and all of their offences they
received punishment ten times over, and the rewards
of beneficence and justice and holiness were in the
same proportion. . . . Of piety and impiety to gods
and parents, and of murderers, there were retributions
other and greater far which he described. He men
tioned that he was present when one of the spirits
asked another, * Where is Ardiaeus the Great ? ' (Now
this Ardiaeus lived a thousand years before the time of
Er : he had been the tyrant of some city of Pamphylia,
and had murdered his aged father and his elder brother,
and was said to have committed many other abomin
able crimes.) The answer of the other spirit was :
* He comes not hither and will never come. And
this,' said he, 'was one of the dreadful sights which
we ourselves witnessed. We were at the mouth of
the cavern, and, having completed all our experiences,
were about to reascend, when of a sudden Ardiaeus
appeared and several others, most of whom were
tyrants ; and there were also besides the tyrants private
individuals who had been great criminals : they were
just, as they fancied, about to return into the upper
world, but the mouth, instead of admitting them, gave
a roar, whenever any of these incurable sinners or
some one who had not been sufficiently punished tried
to ascend ; and then wild men of fiery aspect, who
were standing by and heard the sound, seized and
carried them off; and Ardiaeus and others they bound
head and foot and hand, and threw them down and
IDEM 163
" He that was traitor, or guilt-stained, or vile,
Ten times in agony atones ;
Likewise the just and holy-lived erewiiile
Tenfold fruition owns.
" But richer measure is for him decreed
That 'gainst the Gods imagined ill,
Or wrought confusion on his parents' need,
Or blood of man did spill.
" For there to Er the doom of one was told
That sire and brother eke had slain,
King Ardiaeus, in the days of old,
And might not rise again.
" Nor he nor any may one jot evade ;
Else if some sinner of great sin
Essay the passage, from the hollow shade
Is rolled a mighty din.
" And fiery savage men that wait for him,
At that tremendous voice's sound
Swiftly leap forth, and bind him limb by limb
And dash him to the ground,
1 64 THE MYTH OF ER
flayed with scourges, and dragged them along the
road at the side, carding them on thorns like wool,
and declaring to the passers-by what were their crimes,
and that they were being taken away to be cast into
hell.' And of all the many terrors which they had
endured, he said that there was none like the terror
which each of them felt at that moment, lest they
should hear the voice ; and when there was silence,
one by one they ascended with exceeding joy. . . .
" Now when the spirits which were in the meadow
had tarried seven days, on the eighth they were
obliged to proceed on their journey, and, en the fourth
day after, he said that they came to a place where they
could see from above a line of light, straight as a
column, extending right through the whole heaven
and through the earth, in colour resembling the rain
bow, only brighter and purer ; another day's journey
brought them to the place, and there, in the midst of
the light, they saw the ends of the chains of heaven
let down from above ; for this light is [the belt of
IDEM 165
" And trail that wretched body, which like wool
Is carded upon thorns, and tell
Wherefore the sinner's cup of wrath is full,
His spirit plunged to hell.
" Of all grim terrors of the underworld
Grimmest the terror of that voice,
Which if they hear not through the portals whirled
The souls mount and rejoice.
" So they for seven days in the joyous mead
Linger — then pass — then on a morn,
The fourth that flushes on their steadfast speed
With rosy roofs of dawn,
" Deep in the luminous dim void a light,
Straight as a pillared shaft and high,
Glitters like Iris' bow, yet is more bright,
And pierces earth and sky.
" Thro' all one day that wonder grows apace —
And now, the middle rays among,
They see where from the invisible cope of space
The chains of heaven are hung.
i66 THE MYTH OF ER
heaven, and holds together the circle of the universe,
like the under-girders of a trireme. From these ends
is extended the spindle of Necessity, on which all the
revolutions turn. The shaft and hook of this spindle
are made of steel, and the whorl is made partly of
steel and also partly of other materials. Now the
whorl is in form like the whorl used on earth ; and
the description of it implied that there is one large
hollow whorl which is quite scooped out, and into this
is fitted another lesser one, and another, and another,
and four others, making eight in all, like vessels which
* I cannot pretend to throw any light upon the well-known
difficulty about the "pillar of light." On the one hand it is
described as "straight" as "like a column," and as "extend
ing through the whole heaven" — expressions which give us
the idea of a vertical shaft, piercing the hollow sphere of
heaven from top to bottom, in fact the imaginary axis of the
universe. On the other, it is compared to the rainbow
(although, as has been pointed out, this may be in respect of
colour rather than of form), and to the undergirders of a tri
reme, and is called "the belt of heaven" because "it holds
together the entire circumference ' ' — a series of pictures which
has naturally suggested to commentators the phenomenon of
IDEM 167
" In sooth the belt of heaven is that great light,
Bracing the mighty circle round,
What wise with cables girded trimly-tight
The ocean-hulls are bound.*
" And lo ! down reaching from those chains begun
The spindle of the Law Sublime,
Necessity, whereby the world is spun
Through endless grooves of Time.
"Of steel the shaft is wrought, the hook of steel,
But of mixed fashioning the whorl,
Wherein seven other circles, wheel in wheel,
Continuously curl.
the Milky Way. If the former is Plato's meaning, there is the
further difficulty of understanding the relation of the pillar of
light to the shaft of Necessity's spindle, which is also described
as the axis piercing the middlemost of the eight orbits. The
second interpretation may indeed be reconciled with the
phrases that have suggested the first by supposing that Er
and his companions first caught sight of the light at a point
in space where it appeared to their eyes to be perpendicular
rather than circular. But why Plato should have introduced
an optical illusion into his story it is hard to say. A scholar
friend tells me he thinks that the image was probably suggested
by the elliptical "pillar" of the Zodiacal light.
168 THE MYTH OF ER
fit into one another ; . . . The first and outermost
whorl has the rim broadest, and the seven inner whorls
are narrower. . . . The largest is spangled, and the
seventh is brightest ; the eighth coloured by the
reflected light of the seventh ; the second and fifth
are in colour like one another, and yellower than the
preceding ; the third has the whitest light ; the fourth
is reddish ; the sixth is in whiteness second. Now
the whole spindle has the same motion ; but, as the
whole revolves in one direction, the seven inner
circles move slowly in the other, and of these the
swiftest is the eighth ; next in swiftness are the seventh,
sixth, and fifth, which move together ; third in swift
ness appeared to move according to the law of this
reversed motion the fourth ; the third appeared fourth
and the second fifth. The spindle turns on the knees
of Necessity ; and on the upper surface of each circle
is a siren, who goes round with them, hymning a
single tone or note. The eight together form one
harmony ; and round about, at equal intervals, there
is another band, three in number, each sitting upon
her throne : these are the Fates, daughters of Necessity,
who are clothed in white robes and have chaplets
upon their heads, Lachesis and Clotho and Atropos,
who accompany with their voices the harmony of the
sirens — Lachesis singing of the past, Clotho of the
present, Atropos of the future ; Clotho from time to
time assisting with a touch of her right hand the
revolution of the outer circle of the whorl or spindle,
and Atropos with her left hand touching and guiding
the inner ones, and Lachesis laying hold of either in
turn, first with one hand and then with the other.
IDEM 169
" And one more broad, and one more narrow shows,
And one more bright, and one more dim,
One swift, one slower. And in ordered rows
On every circle's rim
" Eight Sirens do eternally revolve,
Each upon each revolving sphere,
And from their lips one liquid note dissolve
Harmonious and clear.
"And there three daughters of the Law Sublime,
The Fates, white-robed and garlanded,
From their fixed thrones do with the Sirens rhyme
How all is perfected.
"What things of old have been doth Lachesis,
Atropos what are yet to be,
Responsive chant ; but Clotho that which is
Hymns everlastingly.
"And each an inner or an outer ring
Will touch, that it may smoothly slide,
Save Lachesis, that with deft fingering
Doth every orbit guide.
i yo THE MYTH OF ER
When Er and the spirits arrived, their duty was to
go at once to Lachesis ; but first of all there came a
prophet who arranged them in order ; then he took
from the knees of Lachesis lots and samples of lives,
and having mounted a high pulpit, spoke as follows :
* Hear the word of Lachesis, the daughter of Necessity.
Mortal souls, behold a new cycle of life and mortality.
Your genius will not be allotted to you, but you will
choose your genius ; and let him who draws the first lot
have the first choice, and the life which he chooses shall
be his destiny. Virtue is free, and as a man honours or
dishonours her he will have more or less of her ; the
responsibility is with the chooser — God is justified.'
When the Interpreter had thus spoken he scattered
lots indifferently among them all, and each of them
took up the lot which fell near him, . . . and each as
he took his lot perceived the number which he had
obtained. Then the Interpreter placed on the ground
before them the samples of lives ; and there were
many more lives than the souls present, and they were
of all sorts. There were lives of every animal and of
man in every condition. And there were tyrannies
among them, some lasting out the tyrant's life, others
which broke off in the middle and came to an end in
poverty and exile and beggary ; and there were lives
of famous men . . . and some who were the reverse of
famous. . . . And of women likewise ; there was not,
however, any definite character in them, because the
soul, when choosing a new life, must of necessity,
become different. But there was every other quality
and they all mingled with one another, and also with
elements of wealth and poverty, and disease and health ;
IDEM 171
" Anon when all that host before her face
Is ranged, a herald from her knees
Lifting the lots, ascendeth a high place
And sounds her just decrees.
" * The word of Lachesis, the eldest born
Of the dread Law, Necessity, —
Lo now, ye souls of mortals, a new dawn
Of mortal life is nigh !
" * Yours is the choice of fates ! He first shall choose
Who draweth first. Of Righteousness
That knows no master, each shall gain or lose
Honouring her more or less.
" * His be the blame — but blameless is High God ! '
This said, the lots he scatters wide
And spreads the types of life. And at his nod
They take them and decide.
" For there all lives of men and living things,
Fair and ill-fortuned, and the mean,
Beggars and heroes, citizens and kings,
And birds and beasts, are seen.
i;2 THE MYTH OF ER
and there were mean states also. And here ... is
the supreme peril of our human state ; and therefore
the utmost care should be taken. Let each one of us
leave every other kind of knowledge and seek and
follow one thing only, if peradventure he may be able
to learn and may find some one who will make him
able to learn and discern between good and evil, and
so to choose always and everywhere the better life as
he has opportunity. . . .
" And . . . this was what the prophet said at the
time : ' Even for the last comer, if he chooses wisely
and will live diligently, there is appointed a happy and
not undesirable existence. Let not him who chooses
first be careless, and let not the last despair.' And
when he had spoken, he who had the first choice came
forward and in a moment chose the greatest tyranny ;
his mind having been darkened by folly and sensuality,
he had not thought out the whole matter before he
chose, and did not at first sight perceive that he was
fated, among other evils, to devour his own children.
But when he had time to reflect, and saw what was
in the lot, he began to beat his breast and lament over
his choice, forgetting the proclamation of the prophet j
for, instead of throwing the blame of his misfortune
on himself, he accused chance and the gods, and every
thing rather than himself. Now he was one of those
who came from heaven, and in a former life had dwelt
in a well-ordered State, but his virtue was a matter of
IDEM 173
" Yet is no life ordained for good or ill ;
Man's is the choice, and man's alone.
On earth the knowledge and the changeless will
The wise man makes his own.
"And evermore resounds the herald's voice ;
'E'en for the last is favour fair.
Let not the first be heedless of his choice,
Nor the hindmost despair ! '
"Then one with blinded witless eyes of greed
Elects a bloody tyrant's lot.
Anon remorsefully bewails the deed
And weeping ceaseth not.
" Yet in his pride himself he doth acquit ;
At Fate and the High Gods he raves;
Right had he known erewhile, and walked in it,
But lacked the truth that saves.
174 THE MYTH OF ER
habit only, and he had no philosophy. And it was
true of others who were similarly overtaken. . . . And
owing to inexperience, and also because the lot was a
chance, many of the souls exchanged a good destiny
for an evil or an evil for a good. . . . Most curious,
he said, was the spectacle — sad and laughable and
strange ; for the choice of the souls was in most cases
based on their experience of a previous life. There
he saw the soul which had once been Orpheus choos
ing the life of a swan out of enmity to the race of
women, hating to be born of a woman because they
had been his murderers ; he beheld also the soul of
Thamyras choosing the life of a nightingale ; . . .The
soul which obtained the twentieth lot chose the life of a
lion, and this was the soul of Ajax the son of Telamon,
who would not be a man, remembering the injustice
which was done him in the judgment about the arms.
The next was Agamemnon, who took the life of an
eagle, because, like Ajax, he hated human nature by
reason of his sufferings. About the middle came the
lot of Atalanta ; she, seeing the great fame of an
athlete, was unable to resist the temptation ; and
after her there followed the soul of Epeus the son of
Panopeus passing into the nature of a woman cunning
in the arts ; and far away among the last who chose,
the soul of the jester Thersites was putting on the
form of a monkey. There came also the soul of
Odysseus having yet to make a choice, and his lot
happened to be the last of them all. Now the recol
lection of former toils had dischanted him of ambition,
and he went about for a considerable time in search
of the life of a private man who had no cares ; he had
IDEM 175
" So many that one life fulfilled of old
Seek diverse lives — such hope hath change —
Pitiful it is and wondrous to behold,
Yea, laughable and strange !
" Now murdered Orpheus, from the hate he bore
To woman's race, would be a swan,
And Agamemnon for his woes of yore
An eagle's plumes put on.
" Mocking Thersites picks an ape's disguise,
And Thamyris a nightingale's j
Great Ajax, wrathful for the stolen prize,
A lion's fury hails.
"The runner's meed would Atalanta own,
Epeus a handmaid's skill of hands :
But grave Odysseus, sad and weary grown
From toils in many lands,
176 THE MYTH OF ER
some difficulty in finding this, which was lying about
and had been neglected by everybody else ; and when
he saw it, he said that he would have done the same
had his lot been first instead of last, and that he was
delighted to have it. ...
" All the souls had now chosen their lives, and they
went in the order of their choice to Lachesis, who
sent with them the genius whom they had severally
chosen, to be the guardian of their lives and the fulfil-
ler of the choice ; this genius led the souls first to
Clotho, and drew them within the revolution of the
spindle impelled by her hand, thus ratifying the destiny
of each ; and then, when they were fastened to this,
carried them to Atropos, who spun the threads and
made them irreversible, whence without turning round
they passed beneath the throne of Necessity ; and
when they had all passed, they marched on in a
scorching heat to the plain of Forgetfulness, which
was a barren waste destitute of trees and verdure ;
and then towards evening they encamped by the river
of Unmindfulness, whose water no vessel can hold j
IDEM 177
" The idle pastime of an easeful soul
After long search doth hardly find,
And boasteth this the fairest of the whole
Vouchsafed to mortal kind.
" Then each to Lachesis must pass aside,
In order of the lot he willed,
To whom she giveth a celestial guide
To see his choice fulfilled.
" First beneath Clotho's hand the angel leads —
She on the whirring shaft the lot
Weaves close. Then Atropos the labour speeds
That none may loose the knot.
" Thence onward passing 'neath the awful throne,
Necessity's, they journey on
Thro' heat and scorching to a desert lone,
The Plain Oblivion.
" There doth no herb begotten ever bless
The utter waste. At eventide
They see the river of Unmindfulness
And camp the wave beside.
M
178 THE MYTH OF ER
of this they were all obliged to drink a certain quantity,
and those who were not saved by wisdom drank more
than was necessary ; and each one as he drank forgot
all things. Now after they had gone to rest, about
the middle of the night there was a thunderstorm and
earthquake, and then in an instant they were driven
upwards in all manners of ways to their birth, like
stars shooting. He himself was hindered from drink
ing the water. But in what manner or by what
means he returned to the body he could not say ;
only, in the morning, awaking suddenly, he found
himself lying on the pyre."
IDEM 179
" Marvellous the water that no cup can fill ;
Thereof each soul must drink somewhat,
And he that drinketh of the sleepy rill
Hath straight all things forgot.
" Then slumber laps them, till at middle night
With earthquake-shock and thunder-jars
Suddenly scattered they are whirled to light
Shot up like flying stars ! "
These things the hero saw, but of that stream
Might he not slake his least desire.
Naught knew he after, till the morning beam
Thrilled on the funeral pyre.
XLIII
Q. HORATI FLACCI CARM. iv. 7
TNIFFUGERE nives, redeunt jam gramina campis
Arboribusque comae ;
Mutat terra vices et descrescentia ripas
FLumina praetereunt ;
Gratia cum Nymphis geminisque sororibus audct
Ducere nuda chores.
Immortalia ne speres, monet annus et almum
Quae rapit hora diem :
Frigora mitescunt Zephyris, ver preterit aestas,
Interitura, simul
Pomifer Autumnus fruges effuderit, et mox
Bruma recurrit iners.
IDEM
ANGLICE REDDITUM
are the snows, and the grass is springing
anew in the meadows,
Leaves are again on the trees ;
Earth pursueth her change and the dwindling floods
of the rivers
Flow by their borders at ease ;
Safely, the dance as she leads, may the Grace with
her nymphs and her sisters,
Fling her apparel aside.
Hark, as it chases the day, to the plaint of the
hour, and the season —
" Everything dies, and has died ! "
Loosed are the frosts by the Zephyr, the Spring is
swallowed by Summer,
Summer will perish apace
Soon as the Autumn its fruits has shed, then
cometh the Winter
With its benumbing embrace.
1 82 Q. HORATI FLACCI
Damna tamen celeres reparant caelestia lunae :
Nos, ubi decidimus,
Quo pius Aeneas, quo dives Tullus et Ancus,
Pulvis et umbra sumus.
Quis scit, an adjiciant hodiernae crastina summae
Tempora di superi ?
Cuncta manus avidas fugient heredis, amico
Quae dederis animo.
Cum semel occideris et de te splendida Minos
Fecerit arbitria,
Non, Torquate, genus, non te facundia, non te
Restituet pietas ;
Infernis neque enim tenebris Diana pudicum
Liberat Hippolytum,
Nee Lethaea valet Theseus abrumpere caro
Vincula Pirithoo.
IDEM 183
What tho' the hungry moons make good their loss
in the heavens,
We, when our spirits have fled
Where is the good Aeneas, and Tullus the wealthy,
and Ancus,
Are but as dust and a shade.
Who can tell if the gods will increase by the grant
of to-morrow
What has been counted to-day ?
Greedy thy heir, but of all thou hast given the
self that thou lovest
Nought can he carry away.
Once thou art perished and gone, and, high on his
stately tribunal,
Minos has uttered thy doom,
Eloquence, goodness, and birth, Torquatus, will not
avail thee
E'er to return from the tomb.
Not, tho' Diana may plead, will chaste Hippolytus ever
Quit the infernal domain ;
Not tho' he love him, can Theseus his own
Pirithous waken,
Bound in oblivion's chain.
XLIV
THE PROGRESS OF POESY
A PINDARIC ODE
TT 7OODS that wave o'er Delphi's steep,
Isles that crown the Aegean deep,
Fields that cool Illissus laves,
Or where Maeander's amber waves
In lingering labyrinths creep ;
How do your tuneful echoes languish
Mute but to the voice of anguish !
Where each old poetic mountain
Inspiration breathed around ;
Every shade and hallowed fountain
Murmured deep a solemn sound ;
Till the sad Nine in Greece's evil hour
Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains.
IDEM
LATINE REDDITUM
OILVAE trementes per juga Delphica,
Aegea visae clarius insulae
Trans aequora, Ilissusque sacros
Qui gelido lavis amne campos,
Maeander aut qui flavus agis viam
Ambage lenta — nempe queror diu
Languere jam sollenne carmen,
Vox nisi commoveat dolorem !
Illic vetusti vatibus insitam
Montes dabant vim, saepius et putes
Lucos susurrantes et undas
Nescio quod tenuisse numen.
Donee Sorores (proh dolor ! at fuit
Sensura damnum Graecia) debita
Jam sede Parnassi relicta
Hesperios coluere campos.
1 86 THE PROGRESS OF POESY
Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant power,
And coward vice that revels in her chains.
When Latium had her lofty spirit lost,
They sought, O Albion, next thy sea-encircled
coast.
T. GRAY
IDEM 187
Spernit tyranni justa superbiam, et
Gaudens catenis turpe nefas cohors :
Virtute suppressa Latina
Litora mox petiit Britanna.
XLV
THE VOICE OF THE SEA
' I VHOU art sounding on, thou mighty sea,
•*• For ever and the same !
The ancient rocks yet ring to thee ;
Those thunders nought can tame.
Oh ! many a glorious voice is gone
From the rich bowers of earth,
And hushed is many a lovely one
Of mournfulness or mirth.
The Dorian flute that sighed of yore
Along the wave, is still ;
The harp of Judah peals no more
On Zion's awful hill.
And Memnon's lyre hath lost the chord
That breathed the mystic tone ;
And the songs at Rome's high triumphs poured
Are with her eagles flown.
IDEM
LATINE REDDITUM
A UDIN' ut Oceanus sonet indefessus et idem !
Antiqua indomito saxa fragore tenant.
Plurima sed terras vox inclita fugit opimas,
Et dolor, et lepidi conticuerc joci.
Ilia silet, fluctus quae Dorica tibia mulsit,
Judaeae cantus per juga sacra silet.
Dedidicitque suas docti lyra Memnonis artes,
Cunque aquilis Romae, clare triumphe, taces.
igo
THE VOICE OF THE SEA
But thou art swelling on, thou deep,
Through many an olden clime,
Thy billowy anthem, ne'er to sleep
Until the close of time.
FELICIA HEMANS
IDEM I91
Tu tamen antiquas volvis, Neptune, per oras
Sacrum, quod resonet tempus in omne, melos.
XLVI
LUCY
OHE dwelt among the untrodden ways
That skirt the springs of Dove ;
A maid whom there were none to praise,
And very few to love.
A violet by a mossy stone,
Half-hidden from the eye,
Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be ;
But she is in her grave, and O !
The difference to me !
W. WORDSWORTH
IDEM
LATINE REDDITUM
A
VIA desertae tenuit prope flumina Devae
Kara procis virgo, nescia laudis, iter.
Muscoso latuit viola ut semi-abdita saxo,
Candidior Stella, quae nitet una polo.
Nota fuit nullis ; vix cognita desiit esse ;
Sed jacct ; ah ! qui sum, qui modo qualis eram !
XLVII
ORPHEUS
' TE sung what spirit thro' the whole mass is
spread,
Everywhere all ; how heavens God's laws approve
And think it rest eternally to move :
How the kind sun usefully comes and goes,
Wants it himself, yet gives to man repose :
He sung how earth blots the moon's gilded wane
Whilst foolish men beat sounding brass in vain,
Why the great waters her slight horns obey,
Her changing horns not constanter than they ;
He sung how grisly comets hung in air,
Why swords and plagues attend their fatal hair,
God's beacons for the world, drawn up so far
To publish ill, and raise all earth to war.
A. COWLEY
IDEM
LATINE REDDITUM
/T~VUM cecinit quae mcns totum diffusa per orbem
Magnam agitet molem ; coeloque ut jussa
probentur
Aequa Dei, et motu videantur obire quietem ;
Ut bene Sol almus veniens abiensque vicissim
Det generi humano, quern non habet ipse, soporem.
Protinus auratum ut lunae terra inquinet orbem,
Aeraque percutiant homines crepitantia frustra,
Cur magnae exiguis frenentur cornibus undae,
Lunaque ducat aquas nihilo constantior ipsa ;
Denique ut immineant tristes sublime cometae
Cur gladii crinem pestesque sequantur acerbum,
Signaque terrigenis a Patre elata superne
Ut genus omne mali moneant, Martemque reducant.
XLVIII
THE SKYLARK
B
IRD of the wilderness,
Blithesome and cumberless,
Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea !
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling-place —
Oh ! to abide in the desert with thee !
Wild is thy lay and loud,
Far in the downy cloud :
Love gives it energy, love gave it birth ;
Where, on thy dewy wing,
Where art thou journeying ?
Thy lay is on heaven, thy love is on earth.
O'er fell and fountain sheen,
O'er moor and mountain green,
O'er the red streamer that heralds the day,
IDEM
LATINE REDDITUM
OUAE deserta colis, lacta et secura, volucris,
Vox tua per campos mane canora sonet !
Ut tibi vita datur felix, sedesque beata —
Fas mihi sit tecum sola tenere loca !
Libera per tenues resonant tibi carminaitubes,
Dat vires idem qui generavit amor.
Quo tu carpis iter sublimes roscida pennas ?
Musa sonat caelum, cor fovet usque solum.
Per juga, per vitreum fontem, montesque virentcs,
Per rubra quae referent lumine fila diem,
198 THE SKYLARK
Over the cloudlet dim,
Over the rainbow's rim :
Musical cherub, soar, singing, away !
Then when the gloaming comes,
Low in the heather blooms,
Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be !
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling-place —
Oh ! to abide in the desert with thee !
J. HOGG
IDEM 199
Perque nigras nubes nitidumque per Iridis orbem,
Sume, volans, cantum, Nympha canora, tuum !
Tune inter filices, ubi sera crepuscula suadent,
Te domus invitat, te genialis Amor !
Ut tibi vita datur felix sedesque beata —
Fas mihi sit tecum sola tenere loca !
XLIX
AMOURS DE VOYAGE
CANTOS III, IV
>~pHEREFORE farewell ye hills, and ye, ye
•*• envineyarded ruins,
Therefore farewell ye walls, palaces, pillars, and
domes !
Therefore farewell, far seen, ye peaks of the mythic
Albano,
Seen from Montorio's height, Tibur and Aesula's
hills !
Ah, could we once, ere we go, could we stand,
while to Ocean descending
Sinks o'er the yellow dark plain slowly the yellow
broad sun,
Stand, from the forest emerging at sunset, at once
in the champaign,
Open, but studded with trees, chestnuts um
brageous and old,
IDEM
LATINE REDDITUM
valete juga, et sedes quas vitis
obumbrat,
Et quas tanta notat fama, valete,
domus !
Albanusque abeat montano ex Tibure
visus
Collis, ubi aerios Aesula pandit
agros.
O si fas iterum, dum pronus in aequora
flavos
Per campos flavo Sol capit orbe
viam,
Sole sub occiduo, campestri in margine
silvae,
Stare ubi castaneis imminet umbra
comis,
202 AMOURS DE VOYAGE
E'en in those fair open fields that incurve to thy
beautiful hollow,
Nemi, imbedded in wood, Nemi inurned in the hill!
Eastward, or Northward, or West ? I wander and
ask as I wander,
Weary, yet eager and sure — " Where shall I come
to my love ?"
" Whitherward hasten to seek her ? Ye daughters
of Italy tell me,
Graceful and tender and dark, Is she consorting
with you ? "
Thou that outclimbest the torrent, that tendest thy
goats to the summit,
Call to me, child of the Alp, has she been seen
on the heights ?
Italy, farewell I bid thee, for whither she leads me,
I follow,
Farewell the vineyard, for I, where I but guess
her, must go.
Weariness, welcome, and labour, wherever it be, if
at last it
Bring me in mountain or plain into the sight of
my love.
IDEM 203
Quaque jacent, Nemus, in vallem declivia
amoenam
Arva, tenebrosum colle tegente locum.
Quo via longa vocat ? Fessus vagor et
queror anceps,
" Noster ubi est" iterans u inveniendus
amor ?
" Quo sequar absentem ? Vos respondete,
puellae
Ausoniae, an vestris it comes apta
choris ? "
Tuque gregis pastor, torrente audacior
alto,
Die, puer, in summis an tibi visa
jugis ?
Ausonis ora vale, vinetaque cara
valete !
Ipsa vocat ; si qua possit adesse,
sequar.
Membra labent corpusque premat labor
arduus; at sit
Colle modo aut campis inveniendus
amor.
204 AMOURS DE VOYAGE
There is a home on the shore of the Alpine sea,
that upswelling
High up the mountain sides, spreads in the
hollow between,
Wilderness, mountain, and snow from the land of
the olive conceal it,
Under Pilatus' hill low by the river it lies ;
Italy, utter the word, and the olive and vine will
allure not,
Wilderness, forest and snow, will not the passage
impede.
A. H. CLOUGH
IDEM 205
Est domus Alpini secreta in litore
ponti,
Qua montes inter concava vallis
hiat.
Hanc montes nivei et celant deserta
locorum,
Colle sub aerio est condita propter
aquas.
Italis, ire jube, nee oliva nee uva
placebit,
Non iter impedient avia, silva, nives.
L
JAMAIS
JAMAIS, avez-vous dit, tandis qu'autour de nous
R£sonnait de Schubert la plaintive musique ;
Jamais, avez-vous dit, tandis que, malgr£ vous,
Brillait de vos grands yeux 1'azur melancolique.
Jamais, r£p£tiez-vous, pale et d'un air si doux
Qu'on cut cru, voir sourire une m£daille antique.
Mais des tr£sors secrets 1'instinct fier et pudique
Vous couvrit de rougeur, comme un voile jaloux.
Quel mot vous prononcez, marquise, et quel dom-
mage !
H£las ! je ne voyais ni ce charmant visage,
Ni ce divin sourire, en vous parlant d'aimer.
NEVER
'VTEVER," you said, that day when I and you
Heard the resounding plaint of Schubert's
song.
" Never," you said, albeit, to prove you wrong,
Your great eyes shone a melancholy blue.
"Never," — you said again, so mild and pale
One seemed to see some old medallion smile.
Yet the proud blush of modesty the while
Crimsoned your cheeks, as with a jealous veil.
Lady, to breathe that word a pity were !
For while of love I spoke, this face so fair,
This smile divine, did not my vision fill.
208 JAMAIS
Vos yeux bleus sont moins doux que votre
n*est belle;
Meme en les regardant, je ne regrettais qu'elle,
Et de voir dans sa fleur un tel cceur se fermer.
ALFRED DE MUSSET
NEVER 209
Sweet your blue eyes — your soul is lovelier still.
E'en as I gazed, I nought regretted but
That such a heart should in its flower be shut.
LI
THE VISION OF MIRZAH
JOSEPH ADDISON— THE SPECTATOR,
No. 159.
T TAVING once ventured on the observation that
Addison's famous allegory was really a poem,
which only by accident had not assumed a metrical
form,* I was challenged to vindicate this contention,
with fidelity to the language as well as the spirit
of the original. The following was the result of
the attempt :
In Bagdad city, girt with lofty hills,t
Upon the fifth day of the moon,
Which day our faith with strict observance fills,
Did I, 'ere yet 'twas noon,
* The sententious Bishop Kurd, who edited Addison's Works
in 1811, said about this essay : "Mr. Addison is a much better
poet in prose than in verse. This vision has all the merit of the
finest canto in Spenser."
•j- This is of course a poetic licence, there being no hills at or
near to Bagdad.
THE VISION OF MIRZAH 211
The heights ascending, plunge in solemn thought,
Wondering if things be what they seem —
" Truly," I said, " is man a thing of nought,
And life an empty dream."
Thus musing, of a chance I cast my eyes
Towards a high rock, no space away,
Whereon sat one who wore a shepherd's guise,
And on a pipe did play.
Sweet was the note, and sweet the tuneful rhyme,
Sweet as celestial melodies
That greet the souls of good men dead, what time
They come to Paradise,
And, at the sound, the memory doth depart
Of the last agonies they felt,
And for Heaven's joys they are prepared. My heart
With hidden bliss did melt.
Many there are who, journeying that way,
Have by those airs enraptured been ;
'Tis said a Spirit doth the music play,
But ne'er by man is seen.
212 THE VISION OF MIRZAH
Then did I, ravished by these strains divine,
To speak with the musician yearn ;
But, while I gazed astonied, with a sign
He beckoned me to turn.
Thereat, with humble reverence drawing nigh,
Before his feet in tears I fell;
But he, with smiles and pitying courtesy,
Did all my fears dispel,
And lifting me, that found as yet no word,
Did gently take me by the hand,
Saying, "Thy musings, Mirzah, have I heard,
Follow, 'tis my command ! "
So, where the rock soars highest to the skies,
Guiding my steps, he set me there,
And spake again, "To eastward cast thine eyes,
And what thou seest declare ! "
"I see a valley, and a water wide
Rolling therein," — I made reply.
"That vale," he said, "is Misery, and the tide
Is called Eternity."
THE VISION OF MIRZAH 213
" But tell me why from out a mist that sea
Rises, and in a mist is lost." —
" It is that portion of Eternity
Which mortal man hath crossed,
From the beginning to the end of all ;
Time is it, measured by the sun.
Note now this flood betwixt the cloudy pall,
And see what there is done."
" A bridge I see which that great gulf doth span,
Stretched o'er the middle of the tide." —
" The bridge before thee is the life of man,
Look close on it ! " — he cried.
So gazing, I beheld how arches ridge
The watery gulf, three score and ten ;
Yet, were not many ruined, 'neath the bridge
A hundred there had been.
E'en as I counted, he the sum confessed —
" A thousand arches erst there were ;
Came a great flood that overwhelmed the rest
And left those ruins there.
2i4 THE VISION OF MIRZAH
But tell me further what thou seest thereon." —
" Great multitudes that pass I see
From a black cloud that hangs each end upon."
Then, looking steadfastly,
I saw how many of the wayfarers
Dropped from the bridge into the tide
Through hidden doors, that those poor passengers
Trod on, but ne'er espied,
And straightway vanished. Thickest their array
Where, at the entrance, from the gloom
Hardly the pilgrims can emerge, but they
Are trapped and hurled to doom.
Thinner the snares toward the middle space
Of that great bridge, but closer far
And many fold increased, about the place
Where the arched ruins are.
Yet some there were — a company how small —
Who o'er the arches tottered on,
THE VISION OF MIRZAH 215
Till at the last each one was seen to fall
When all his strength was gone.
Long time upon that wondrous pile I gazed
And that great crowd of passers-by,
Nor least, regarding them, my heart was dazed
And plunged in melancholy,
When many a happy one, from out the band,
Dropped straight to an untimely grave,
Clutching where'er he could, with desperate hand,
If he his life might save.
Some with uplifted eye and thoughtful mien
Seemed lost in a celestial sphere,
But midway in that reverie were seen
Stumbling, to disappear.
And multitudes were eager in the chase,
Whom bubbles gleamed and danced before,
Yet often, as they thought to win the race,
Their footsteps on the floor
216 THE VISION OF MIRZAH
Faltered, and down they sank. A glittering blade
One waved, to deal the fatal blow,
Another hand a box with drugs* displayed,
And these ran to and fro
Upon that bridge, and did the victims thrust
On to the traps they had not seen
And haply might escape — but now they must
Be plunged to death between.
Then did my guide, who saw me with sad air
This sight examine, say " Eno,
Look no more on the bridge, but seest thou there
Aught else that thou would'st know?"
Upward I glanced, and said to him, " What mean
These flights of birds that in the air
Hover perpetually, and are seen
To settle here and there,
Vultures and harpies, ravens, cormorants,
And companies of winged boys,
* The well-known jest at the expense of the doctors. The
original contains a much less delicate phrase. The persons in
the preceding line are soldiers and executioners.
THE VISION OF MIRZAH 217
Who as they flutter from that feathered dance,
On the mid-arches poise ?
"These creatures" — so he answered my behest —
" Are Superstition, Love, Despair,
Envy and Avarice, who life infest,
And many a kindred care."
Deeply I sighed, and spake, " Alas ! how rife
With misery is mortal breath !
In vain is man — tormented thus in life,
And swallowed up in death."
But he, with pity for my soul-in-doubt,
Bade me that prospect to pass by,
Saying, " Regard no more, where man starts out
To find Eternity,
But forward cast thine eyes across the deep
Yonder to that dense mist, whereto
The tide doth all those generations sweep
Who drop and fall from view.
218 THE VISION OF MIRZAH
Forthwith I gazed as bidden — haply he
With force divine my sight endowed,
Or — deigning I should pierce the gloom and see —
Rolled back that misty cloud.
The vale I saw, where it more open grows,
Spread forth into a mighty main,
And there a rock of adamant uprose,
That severed it in twain.
One half was by the cloudy veil o'ercast —
So thick that nought therein was known,
It seemed the other was an ocean vast,
With isles unnumbered strown.
Covered they were with fruits and bloom of flowers,
And through them ran a thousand seas
With shining current, and, amid the bowers,
Or threading the tall trees,
A throng I saw, in glorious habits dressed,
That garlands on their temples wore,
And some beside the fountains took their rest,
Some on the flowery floor ;
THE VISION OF MIRZAH 219
And in my ears a mingled harmony
Of falling waters, birds that sang,
Men's voices, instruments of melody,
With sweet confusion rang.
I gazed and hearkened. Gladness grew in me
At sight of this divine retreat ;
An eagle's wings I coveted, to flee
To that enchanted seat.
But, " Passage is there none by any wiles,
Save through the hidden gates of death
That open ever on the bridge. The isles
So fresh and green" — he saith —
"That dot the ocean, far as it expands,
Far as thy vision sweeps, are more
In number than the innumerable sands
That lie upon the shore.
Myriads there are, the nearer seats behind,
Whither nor eye nor thought can reach,
Mansions to good men after death assigned,
As is the worth of each.
220 THE VISION OF MIRZAH
There are they settled, and the isles abound
With joys of manifold degrees,
And of those pleasures each is perfect found
To suit their relishes.
So is each place to each a Paradise,
Worthy of long essay. Confess,
O Mirzah, if it yieldeth such a prize,
Is life unhappiness ?
Can death be fearful, that to such delight
Conducteth ? Think not that in vain
Was man created, when a lot so bright
For him doth aye remain."
With joy ineffable I cast my eyes
Upon the happy islands, then
Rejoined, " I pray thee show me that which lies
Hidden from mortal ken
Beneath those vapours that the ocean cloud,
Beyond the adamantine peak."
But when no answer he returned, I bowed,
A second time to speak.
THE VISION OF MIRZAH 221
Fled was the Spirit. Then I turned aside,
That radiant vision not to miss —
Gone was the arched bridge, the rolling tide,
Vanished the isles of bliss !
Naught I beheld but Bagdad's hollow vale,
And there, as down its length I gazed,
Oxen and sheep and camels, in the dale,
Upon the pasture grazed.
CORRIGENDA
p. 16. Three lines from bottom, for "armes" read,
" larmes."
p. 78. Last line but three, for " uu " read " un."
p. 197. Fifth line, for " rubes" read " nubes."
220
THE VISION OF MIRZAH
There are they settled, and the isles abound
With joys of manifold degrees,
And of those pleasures each is perfect found
To suit their relishes.
So is each place to each a Paradise,
Worthy of long essay. Confess,
O Mirzah, if it yieldeth such a prize,
Is life unhappiness ?
f!
LULU illUl LiAl K.C11
Beneath those vapours that the ocean cloud,
Beyond the adamantine peak."
But when no answer he returned, I bowed,
A second time to speak.
THE VISION OF MIRZAH 221
Fled was the Spirit. Then I turned aside,
That radiant vision not to miss —
Gone was the arched bridge, the rolling tide,
Vanished the isles of bliss !
Naught I beheld but Bagdad's hollow vale,
And there, as down its length I gazed,
Oxen and sheep and camels, in the dale,
Upon the pasture grazed.
POEMS OF EMILE VERHAEREN.
Translated by ALMA STRETTELL. With a Bio
graphical Introduction by the translator and a Portrait
of the author specially drawn for this edition by
JOHN SARGENT, R.A. Crown 8vo. 33 6d net.
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CARILLONS OF BELGIUM AND
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A PILGRIM'S SCRIP. By R. CAMPBELL
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