Andromeda and Other Poems Part 14

Blest, who can forget a while; The world before them, and above The light of universal love.

Go, then, let the young be gay; From their heart as from their dress Let darkness and let mourning pa.s.s away, While we the staid and worn look on and bless.

Health to courage firm and high!

Health to Granta's chivalry!

Wisely finding, day by day, Play in toil, and toil in play.

Granta greets them, gliding down On by park and spire and town; Humming mills and golden meadows, Barred with elm and poplar shadows; Giant groves, and learned halls; Holy fanes and pictured walls.

Yet she bides not here; around Lies the Muses' sacred ground.

Most she lingers, where below Gliding wherries come and go; Stalwart footsteps shake the sh.o.r.es; Rolls the pulse of stalwart oars; Rings aloft the exultant cry For the bloodless victory.

There she greets the sports, which breed Valiant lads for England's need; Wisely finding, day by day, Play in toil, and toil in play.

Health to courage, firm and high!

Health to Granta's chivalry!

Yet stay a while, severer Muses, stay, For you, too, have your rightful parts to-day.

Known long to you, and known through you to fame, Are Chatsworth's halls, and Cavendish's name.

You too, then, Alma Mater calls to greet A worthy patron for your ancient seat; And bid her sons from him example take, Of learning purely sought for learning's sake, Of worth unboastful, power in duty spent; And see, fulfilled in him, her high intent.

Come, Euterpe, wake thy choir; Fit thy notes to our desire.

Long may he sit the chiefest here, Meet us and greet us, year by year; Long inherit, sire and son, All that their race has wrought and won, Since that great Cavendish came again, Round the world and over the main, Breasting the Thames with his mariners bold, Past good Queen Bess's palace of old; With jewel and ingot packed in his hold, And sails of damask and cloth of gold; While never a sailor-boy on board But was decked as brave as a Spanish lord, With the spoils he had won In the Isles of the Sun, And the sh.o.r.es of Fairy-land, And yet held for the crown of the goodly show, That queenly smile from the Palace window, And that wave of a queenly hand.

Yes, let the young be gay, And sun themselves to-day;-- And from their hearts, as from their dress, Let mourning pa.s.s away.

But not from us, who watch our years fast fleeing, And s.n.a.t.c.hing as they flee, fresh fragments of our being.

Can we forget one friend, Can we forget one face, Which cheered us toward our end, Which nerved us for our race?

Oh sad to toil, and yet forego One presence which has made us know To G.o.dlike souls how deep our debt!

We would not, if we could, forget.

Severer Muses, linger yet; Speak out for us one pure and rich regret.

Thou, Clio, who, with awful pen, Gravest great names upon the hearts of men, Speak of a fate beyond our ken; A gem late found and lost too soon; {306} A sun gone down at highest noon; A tree from Odin's ancient root, Which bore for men the ancient fruit, Counsel, and faith and scorn of wrong, And cunning lore, and soothing song, Snapt in mid-growth, and leaving unaware The flock unsheltered and the pasture bare Nay, let us take what G.o.d shall send, Trusting bounty without end.

G.o.d ever lives; and Nature, Beneath His high dictature, Hale and teeming, can replace Strength by strength, and grace by grace, Hope by hope, and friend by friend: Trust; and take what G.o.d shall send.

So shall Alma Mater see Daughters fair and wise Train new lands of liberty Under stranger skies; Spreading round the teeming earth English science, manhood, worth.

1862.

SONGS FROM 'THE WATER-BABIES'

THE TIDE RIVER

Clear and cool, clear and cool, By laughing shallow, and dreaming pool; Cool and clear, cool and clear, By shining shingle, and foaming wear; Under the crag where the ouzel sings, And the ivied wall where the church-bell rings, Undefiled, for the undefiled; Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child.

Dank and foul, dank and foul, By the smoky town in its murky cowl; Foul and dank, foul and dank, By wharf and sewer and slimy bank; Darker and darker the farther I go, Baser and baser the richer I grow; Who dare sport with the sin-defiled?

Shrink from me, turn from me, mother and child.

Strong and free, strong and free, The floodgates are open, away to the sea.

Free and strong, free and strong, Cleansing my streams as I hurry along To the golden sands, and the leaping bar, And the taintless tide that awaits me afar, As I lose myself in the infinite main, Like a soul that has sinned and is pardoned again.

Undefiled, for the undefiled; Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child.

From The Water-Babies.

Eversley, 1862.

YOUNG AND OLD

When all the world is young, lad, And all the trees are green; And every goose a swan, lad, And every la.s.s a queen; Then hey for boot and horse, lad, And round the world away; Young blood must have its course, lad, And every dog his day.

When all the world is old, lad, And all the trees are brown; And all the sport is stale, lad, And all the wheels run down; Creep home, and take your place there, The spent and maimed among: G.o.d grant you find one face there, You loved when all was young.

From The Water-Babies. 1862

THE SUMMER SEA

Soft soft wind, from out the sweet south sliding, Waft thy silver cloud webs athwart the summer sea; Thin thin threads of mist on dewy fingers twining Weave a veil of dappled gauze to shade my babe and me.

Deep deep Love, within thine own abyss abiding, Pour Thyself abroad, O Lord, on earth and air and sea; Worn weary hearts within Thy holy temple hiding, Shield from sorrow, sin, and shame my helpless babe and me.

From The Water-Babies. 1862

MY LITTLE DOLL

I once had a sweet little doll, dears, The prettiest doll in the world; Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears, And her hair was so charmingly curled.

But I lost my poor little doll, dears, As I played in the heath one day; And I cried for more than a week, dears, But I never could find where she lay.

I found my poor little doll, dears, As I played in the heath one day: Folks say she is terribly changed, dears, For her paint is all washed away, And her arms trodden off by the cows, dears And her hair not the least bit curled: Yet for old sakes' sake she is still, dears, The prettiest doll in the world.

From The Water-Babies.

Eversley, 1862.

THE KNIGHT'S LEAP: A LEGEND OF ALTENAHR

'So the foemen have fired the gate, men of mine; And the water is spent and gone?

Then bring me a cup of the red Ahr-wine: I never shall drink but this one.

'And reach me my harness, and saddle my horse, And lead him me round to the door: He must take such a leap to-night perforce, As horse never took before.

'I have fought my fight, I have lived my life, I have drunk my share of wine; From Trier to Coln there was never a knight Led a merrier life than mine.

'I have lived by the saddle for years two score; And if I must die on tree, Then the old saddle tree, which has borne me of yore, Is the properest timber for me.

'So now to show bishop, and burgher, and priest, How the Altenahr hawk can die: If they smoke the old falcon out of his nest, He must take to his wings and fly.'