The Black Riders and Other Lines Part 2

"Surely," replied this other; "His grandfathers beat them many times."

Then did I see much virtue in grandfathers,-- At least, for the little man Who stood against the Mountains.

XXIII

Places among the stars, Soft gardens near the sun, Keep your distant beauty; Shed no beams upon my weak heart.

Since she is here In a place of blackness, Not your golden days Nor your silver nights Can call me to you.

Since she is here In a place of blackness, Here I stay and wait.

XXIV

I saw a man pursuing the horizon; Round and round they sped.

I was disturbed at this; I accosted the man.

"It is futile," I said, "You can never"--

"You lie," he cried, And ran on.

XXV

Behold, the grave of a wicked man, And near it, a stern spirit.

There came a drooping maid with violets, But the spirit grasped her arm.

"No flowers for him," he said.

The maid wept: "Ah, I loved him."

But the spirit, grim and frowning: "No flowers for him."

Now, this is it-- If the spirit was just, Why did the maid weep?

XXVI

There was set before me a mighty hill, And long days I climbed Through regions of snow.

When I had before me the summit-view, It seemed that my labor Had been to see gardens Lying at impossible distances.

XXVII

A youth in apparel that glittered Went to walk in a grim forest.

There he met an a.s.sa.s.sin Attired all in garb of old days; He, scowling through the thickets, And dagger poised quivering, Rushed upon the youth.

"Sir," said this latter, "I am enchanted, believe me, "To die, thus, "In this medieval fashion, "According to the best legends; "Ah, what joy!"

Then took he the wound, smiling, And died, content.

XXVIII

"Truth," said a traveller, "Is a rock, a mighty fortress; "Often have I been to it, "Even to its highest tower, "From whence the world looks black."

"Truth," said a traveller, "Is a breath, a wind, "A shadow, a phantom; "Long have I pursued it, "But never have I touched "The hem of its garment."

And I believed the second traveller; For truth was to me A breath, a wind, A shadow, a phantom, And never had I touched The hem of its garment.

XXIX

Behold, from the land of the farther suns I returned.

And I was in a reptile-swarming place, Peopled, otherwise, with grimaces, Shrouded above in black impenetrableness.

I shrank, loathing, Sick with it.

And I said to him, "What is this?"

He made answer slowly, "Spirit, this is a world; "This was your home."

x.x.x

Supposing that I should have the courage To let a red sword of virtue Plunge into my heart, Letting to the weeds of the ground My sinful blood, What can you offer me?

A gardened castle?

A flowery kingdom?

What? A hope?

Then hence with your red sword of virtue.

x.x.xI

Many workmen Built a huge ball of masonry Upon a mountain-top.

Then they went to the valley below, And turned to behold their work.

"It is grand," they said; They loved the thing.

Of a sudden, it moved: It came upon them swiftly; It crushed them all to blood.

But some had opportunity to squeal.

x.x.xII

Two or three angels Came near to the earth.

They saw a fat church.

Little black streams of people Came and went in continually.

And the angels were puzzled To know why the people went thus, And why they stayed so long within.