A Legend of Old Persia and Other Poems Part 5

But would that the G.o.ds had made me As others, not set me apart.

For what, in the measure of life, Is work on a lower plane?

And this the finest, brightest-- Further I cannot attain.

Shall I grind its beauty to fragments Or shatter its symmetry?-- For I have made it in secret And none has seen it but me.

My hand would falter and fail-- Oh! ... I could not forget.

I still should see it in dreams With a pa.s.sion of regret.

Or ... Shall I wait till morning White-winged over the land, Ere the fishermen tramp the beach And drag their boats to the sand; And find at last ... oh! at last A boon denied to me, Rest in the ever-restless, The huge, unquiet sea, That the brain may be freed from toil Which has toiled to a luckless end When it touched its highest powers And shaped my milk-white friend.

IX

For a dream is only a dream, (My best and my last stands there) And a stone is only a stone, Be it carven beyond compare, And the veriest hind of the field Who sweats for his hungry brood, Has a deeper knowledge than I Of our mortal evil and good.

Oh! G.o.ds, if ever I sought you, And found you, terrible lords, Zeus in the rattling thunder, Ares in din of swords; And thou, wise grey-eyed lady, Who lovest the sober mean, Reason and grave discourses, A tempered mind and serene, You have I duly honoured-- Yet one have I kept apart, (Lean, misshapen, and ugly No toy for a maiden's heart).

"Oh! foam-begotten and smiling, Oh, perilous child of the sea-- Forgive--ere too late--and befriend me!

What am I--what is life without thee?"

And his prayer went up like a vapour To the palace above the snows, Where the shining G.o.ds held revel, And deathless laughter arose.

But Hupnos swiftly descended Like a noiseless bird of the night And brushed his eyes with pinions Downy and thick and light, Circled dimly about him, And brushed his eyes as he prayed Laying a drowsy mandate, And the watcher drooped and obeyed.

X

In at the workshop windows Peacefully stole the dawn; Tinting the marble figures Of wood-nymph, G.o.ddess and faun, Broadening in a streamer Which touched with a rosy glow The still white form of the statue, The sleeper kneeling below.

... She moved as the red light touched her And life stirred under her hair, A little shiver ran over Her glorious limbs all bare.

Thro' arms and b.r.e.a.s.t.s and thighs The warm blood pulsed and ran: And she stepped down from the pedestal-- A woman unto a man; Saying in tender accents Of low and musical tone: "Oh! sleeper, wake from thy slumber No longer art thou alone...."

Alexis.

Who slew Alexis? Some one smote Right thro' the white and tender throat (And scarce gave time for fear) The jewelled doll, who sprang from kings, With farded cheek and flashing rings, And left him lying here.

He sat upon a throne, pardye, The ancient throne of Muscovy, Smiling a harlot's smile, And gave--the painted popinjay-- The word which no man might gainsay, Tossing his curls the while.

And savage warriors, steel on hips, Muttered between their bearded lips, And spat upon the floor, To see a thing so debonnaire Enthroned upon a conqueror's chair, And find their King half-wh.o.r.e.

Or in a gallery all aflare, Approached by some dark palace stair, He lay in languid mood, And naked women, mad with wine, Did cruelty and l.u.s.t combine To stir his tainted blood.

So plunged, half woman and half devil, In many a foul and roaring revel, By some fierce craving fanned, Alexis, with the girlish face And swaying movements full of grace, The Ruler of this Land.

So, hunted by a mind diseased, By those fierce orgies unappeased, He thirsted after new; And monstrous things he did (they say) Which never saw the light of day, Shared by a chosen few.

The rocks were cleft to bring him treasure, The mothers mourned to give him pleasure, The whole land writhed in pain, All night the secret chambers flared, All night the horrid deeds were dared Which made him thirst again.

And pampered Turks lived by his side, With gobbling negroes bloodshot-eyed, And hags with mouths impure.

And day and night the warders tall Stood watching on his castle wall That he might dwell secure.

Strange visions did upon him throng With shapes confused which held him long, A riot in his brain.

Unbridled l.u.s.t, unbounded power So worked upon him in that hour....

I think he was insane.

And I--who had no G.o.d to please, And nursed him crowing on my knees-- I waited by the stair, And as he gave a joyous note, Pa.s.sed this bright iron thro' his throat And left him lying there.

The King's Cloak.

There was a King in Norroway Who loved a famous sport, He followed it in the sun and snow With the n.o.bles of his Court.

In all his kingdom mountainous Was none so swift as he (For so they said who ate his bread) At running on the ski.

His black heart swelled with pride As the acorn swells with the tree, And from all his kingdom mountainous He called the men of the ski.

From fir-p.r.i.c.ked crag and gloomy gorge Where the lonely log-huts cling, And till the King's word bade them cease They raced before the King.

So raced they down a spear-broad track, Where never tree did grow, Between the mountains and the sea A thousand feet below Till sundip in a cold pearl sky And a west of ageless pink From a withered pine to the King enthroned With his n.o.bles by the brink.

There ran one with the racers Straight-fashioned as a sword, With sail-brown cheek and eyes as deep As water in a fiord And till the King's word bade them cease None pa.s.sed or touched him near, He leapt as frightened chamois leap And ran like a stricken deer.

Dusk threw a hateful shadow On the King's countenance "The guerdons of thy skill," cried he, "Or, boy, thy luck, perchance?

This figured ivory drinking horn!

This turquoise-hilted sword!

But ... shall I see no marvel Ere day dips in the fiord?"

"There is not in fair Norroway My master on the ski One bolder or more skilful....

A marvel wouldst thou see?"

--Bold and high was the answer-- "'Twas skill not luck, Oh! King, I am the swiftest.... A marvel Of whom the scalds shall sing."

"Oh! yonder stand the mountains And yonder moans the sea And he who leapt from the topmost crag....

A bold man would he be.

A bold man ... yea, a marvel For the grey-haired scalds to hymn...."

Day dying touched his swarthy cheek With a lurid light and grim,

While he made the gloomy challenge And round a murmur ran, But ... the boy bowed low and answered, "Oh! King, behold the man The swiftest and the boldest In thy kingdom by the sea, From mountain or ... from hatred What man can do, dares he."

... He swept down from the mountain Like an eaglet on a hare With bent back and swinging arms And tossing golden hair....

The King stood by the precipice (A small sea moaned and broke) ... Looked down over the wrinkled sea And swiftly loosed his cloak.

... He came as an arrow is loosened....

As a slinger slings a stone, Clutched (as the sun shot downwards) At one on the brink alone....

The King leapt back ... the King laughed out....

The great cloak floated free....

There came no sound--tho' he listened long-- From the darkened moaning sea.

The Knight and the Witch.