The Poetical Works Of Robert Bridges Part 39

When first I saw thee, dearest, if I say The spells that conjure back the hour and place, And evermore I look upon thy face, As in the spring of years long pa.s.s'd away; No fading of thy beauty's rich array, No detriment of age on thee I trace, But time's defeat written in spoils of grace, From rivals robb'd, whom thou didst pity and slay.

So hath thy growth been, thus thy faith is true, Unchanged in change, still to my growing sense, To life's desire the same, and nothing new: But as thou wert in dream and prescience At love's arising, now thou stand'st to view In the broad noon of his magnificence.

59

'Twas on the very day winter took leave Of those fair fields I love, when to the skies The fragrant Earth was smiling in surprise At that her heaven-descended, quick reprieve, I wander'd forth my sorrow to relieve; Yet walk'd amid sweet pleasure in such wise As Adam went alone in Paradise, Before G.o.d of His pity fashion'd Eve.

And out of tune with all the joy around I laid me down beneath a flowering tree, And o'er my senses crept a sleep profound; In which it seem'd that thou wert given to me, Rending my body, where with hurried sound I feel my heart beat, when I think of thee.

60

Love that I know, love I am wise in, love, My strength, my pride, my grace, my skill untaught, My faith here upon earth, my hope above, My contemplation and perpetual thought: The pleasure of my fancy, my heart's fire, My joy, my peace, my praise, my happy theme, The aim of all my doing, my desire Of being, my life by day, by night my dream:

Love, my sweet melancholy, my distress, My pain, my doubt, my trouble, my despair, My only folly and unhappiness, And in my careless moments still my care: O love, sweet love, earthly love, love divine, Say'st thou to-day, O love, that thou art mine?

61

The dark and serious angel, who so long Vex'd his immortal strength in charge of me, Hath smiled for joy and fled in liberty To take his pastime with the peerless throng.

Oft had I done his n.o.ble keeping wrong, Wounding his heart to wonder what might be G.o.d's purpose in a soul of such degree; And there he had left me but for mandate strong.

But seeing thee with me now, his task at close He knoweth, and wherefore he was bid to stay, And work confusion of so many foes: The thanks that he doth look for, here I pay, Yet fear some heavenly envy, as he goes Unto what great reward I cannot say.

62

I will be what G.o.d made me, nor protest Against the bent of genius in my time, That science of my friends robs all the best, While I love beauty, and was born to rhyme.

Be they our mighty men, and let me dwell In shadow among the mighty shades of old, With love's forsaken palace for my cell; Whence I look forth and all the world behold,

And say, These better days, in best things worse, This b.a.s.t.a.r.dy of time's magnificence, Will mend in fashion and throw off the curse, To crown new love with higher excellence.

Curs'd tho' I be to live my life alone, My toil is for man's joy, his joy my own.

63

I live on hope and that I think do all Who come into this world, and since I see Myself in swim with such good company, I take my comfort whatsoe'er befall.

I abide and abide, as if more stout and tall My spirit would grow by waiting like a tree; And, clear of others' toil, it pleaseth me In dreams their quick ambition to forestall.

And if thro' careless eagerness I slide To some accomplishment, I give my voice Still to desire, and in desire abide.

I have no stake abroad; if I rejoice In what is done or doing, I confide Neither to friend nor foe my secret choice.

64

Ye blessed saints, that now in heaven enjoy The purchase of those tears, the world's disdain, Doth Love still with his war your peace annoy, Or hath Death freed you from his ancient pain?

Have ye no springtide, and no burst of May In flowers and leafy trees, when solemn night Pants with love-music, and the holy day Breaks on the ear with songs of heavenly light?

What make ye and what strive for? keep ye thought Of us, or in new excellence divine Is old forgot? or do ye count for nought What the Greek did and what the Florentine?

We keep your memories well: O in your store Live not our best joys treasured evermore?

65

Ah heavenly joy! But who hath ever heard, Who hath seen joy, or who shall ever find Joy's language? There is neither speech nor word; Nought but itself to teach it to mankind.

Scarce in our twenty thousand painful days We may touch something: but there lives--beyond The best of art, or nature's kindest phase-- The hope whereof our spirit is fain and fond:

The cause of beauty given to man's desires Writ in the expectancy of starry skies, The faith which gloweth in our fleeting fires, The aim of all the good that here we prize; Which but to love, pursue and pray for well Maketh earth heaven, and to forget it, h.e.l.l.

66

My wearied heart, whenever, after all, Its loves and yearnings shall be told complete, When gentle death shall bid it cease to beat, And from all dear illusions disenthrall: However then thou shalt appear to call My fearful heart, since down at others' feet It bade me kneel so oft, I'll not retreat From thee, nor fear before thy feet to fall.

And I shall say, 'Receive this loving heart Which err'd in sorrow only; and in sin Took no delight; but being forced apart From thee, without thee hoping thee to win, Most prized what most thou madest as thou art On earth, till heaven were open to enter in.'

67

Dreary was winter, wet with changeful sting Of clinging snowfall and fast-flying frost; And bitterer northwinds then withheld the spring, That dallied with her promise till 'twas lost.

A sunless and half-hearted summer drown'd The flowers in needful and unwelcom'd rain; And Autumn with a sad smile fled uncrown'd From fruitless orchards and unripen'd grain.

But coud the skies of this most desolate year In its last month learn with our love to glow, Men yet should rank its cloudless atmosphere Above the sunsets of five years ago: Of my great praise too part should be its own, Now reckon'd peerless for thy love alone.

68

Away now, lovely Muse, roam and be free: Our commerce ends for aye, thy task is done: Tho' to win thee I left all else unwon, Thou, whom I most have won, art not for me.

My first desire, thou too forgone must be, Thou too, O much lamented now, tho' none Will turn to pity thy forsaken son, Nor thy divine sisters will weep for thee.

None will weep for thee: thou return, O Muse, To thy Sicilian fields: I once have been On thy loved hills, and where thou first didst use Thy sweetly balanced rhyme, O thankless queen, Have pluck'd and wreath'd thy flowers; but do thou choose Some happier brow to wear thy garlands green.

69

Eternal Father, who didst all create, In whom we live, and to whose bosom move, To all men be Thy name known, which is Love, Till its loud praises sound at heaven's high gate.

Perfect Thy kingdom in our pa.s.sing state, That here on earth Thou may'st as well approve Our service, as Thou ownest theirs above, Whose joy we echo and in pain await.

Grant body and soul each day their daily bread: And should in spite of grace fresh woe begin, Even as our anger soon is past and dead Be Thy remembrance mortal of our sin: By Thee in paths of peace Thy sheep be led, And in the vale of terror comforted.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Robert Bridges]

SHORTER POEMS