Modern British Poetry Part 4

REQUIESCAT

Tread lightly, she is near Under the snow, Speak gently, she can hear The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair Fallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as snow, She hardly knew She was a woman, so Sweetly she grew.

Coffin-board, heavy stone, Lie on her breast; I vex my heart alone, She is at rest.

Peace, peace; she cannot hear Lyre or sonnet; All my life's buried here, Heap earth upon it.

IMPRESSION DU MATIN

The Thames nocturne of blue and gold Changed to a harmony in grey; A barge with ochre-coloured hay Dropt from the wharf: and chill and cold

The yellow fog came creeping down The bridges, till the houses' walls Seemed changed to shadows, and St. Paul's Loomed like a bubble o'er the town.

Then suddenly arose the clang Of waking life; the streets were stirred With country waggons; and a bird Flew to the glistening roofs and sang.

But one pale woman all alone, The daylight kissing her wan hair, Loitered beneath the gas lamps' flare, With lips of flame and heart of stone.

_John Davidson_

John Davidson was born at Barrhead, Renfrewshire, in 1857. His _Ballads and Songs_ (1895) and _New Ballads_ (1897) attained a sudden but too short-lived popularity, and his great promise was quenched by an apathetic public and by his own growing disillusion and despair.

His sombre yet direct poetry never tired of repeating his favorite theme: "Man is but the Universe grown conscious."

Davidson died by his own hand in 1909.

A BALLAD OF h.e.l.l

'A letter from my love to-day!

Oh, unexpected, dear appeal!'

She struck a happy tear away, And broke the crimson seal.

'My love, there is no help on earth, No help in heaven; the dead-man's bell Must toll our wedding; our first hearth Must be the well-paved floor of h.e.l.l.'

The colour died from out her face, Her eyes like ghostly candles shone; She cast dread looks about the place, Then clenched her teeth and read right on.

'I may not pa.s.s the prison door; Here must I rot from day to day, Unless I wed whom I abhor, My cousin, Blanche of Valencay.

'At midnight with my dagger keen, I'll take my life; it must be so.

Meet me in h.e.l.l to-night, my queen, For weal and woe.'

She laughed although her face was wan, She girded on her golden belt, She took her jewelled ivory fan, And at her glowing missal knelt.

Then rose, 'And am I mad?' she said: She broke her fan, her belt untied; With leather girt herself instead, And stuck a dagger at her side.

She waited, shuddering in her room, Till sleep had fallen on all the house.

She never flinched; she faced her doom: They two must sin to keep their vows.

Then out into the night she went, And, stooping, crept by hedge and tree; Her rose-bush flung a snare of scent, And caught a happy memory.

She fell, and lay a minute's s.p.a.ce; She tore the sward in her distress; The dewy gra.s.s refreshed her face; She rose and ran with lifted dress.

She started like a morn-caught ghost Once when the moon came out and stood To watch; the naked road she crossed, And dived into the murmuring wood.

The branches s.n.a.t.c.hed her streaming cloak; A live thing shrieked; she made no stay!

She hurried to the trysting-oak-- Right well she knew the way.

Without a pause she bared her breast, And drove her dagger home and fell, And lay like one that takes her rest, And died and wakened up in h.e.l.l.

She bathed her spirit in the flame, And near the centre took her post; From all sides to her ears there came The dreary anguish of the lost.

The devil started at her side, Comely, and tall, and black as jet.

'I am young Malespina's bride; Has he come hither yet?'

'My poppet, welcome to your bed.'

'Is Malespina here?'

'Not he! To-morrow he must wed His cousin Blanche, my dear!'

'You lie, he died with me to-night.'

'Not he! it was a plot' ... 'You lie.'

'My dear, I never lie outright.'

'We died at midnight, he and I.'

The devil went. Without a groan She, gathered up in one fierce prayer, Took root in h.e.l.l's midst all alone, And waited for him there.

She dared to make herself at home Amidst the wail, the uneasy stir.

The blood-stained flame that filled the dome, Scentless and silent, shrouded her.

How long she stayed I cannot tell; But when she felt his perfidy, She marched across the floor of h.e.l.l; And all the d.a.m.ned stood up to see.

The devil stopped her at the brink: She shook him off; she cried, 'Away!'

'My dear, you have gone mad, I think.'

'I was betrayed: I will not stay.'

Across the weltering deep she ran; A stranger thing was never seen: The d.a.m.ned stood silent to a man; They saw the great gulf set between.

To her it seemed a meadow fair; And flowers sprang up about her feet She entered heaven; she climbed the stair And knelt down at the mercy-seat.

Seraphs and saints with one great voice Welcomed that soul that knew not fear.