The Poetical Works of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart. M.P Part 44

Smit by a javelin from the leader's hand, 78 The bird crept fluttering down a deep defile, Through whose far end faint glimpses of a land, Sunn'd by a softer daylight, sent a smile; The Augur hail'd an omen in the sight, And led the wanderers towards the glimmering light.

What seem'd a gorge was but a vista'd cave, 79 Long-drawn and hollow'd through primaeval stone; Rude was the path, but as, beyond the grave Elysium shines, the glorious landscape shone, Broadening and brightening--till their wonder sees Bloom through the Alps the lost Hesperides.

There, the sweet sunlight, from the heights debarr'd, 80 Gather'd its pomp to lavish on the vale; A wealth of wild sweets glitter'd on the sward, Screen'd by the very snow-rocks from the gale; Murmur'd clear waters, murmur'd joyous birds, And o'er soft pastures roved the fearless herds.

His rod the Augur waves above the ground, 81 And cries, "In Tina's name I bless the soil."[8]

With veiled brows the exiles circle round; Along the rod propitious lightnings coil; The G.o.ds approve; rejoicing hands combine, Swift springs a sylvan city from the pine.

What charm yet fails them in the lovely place? 82 Childhood's gay laugh--and woman's tender smile.

A chosen few the venturous steps retrace; Love lightens toil for those who rest the while; And, ere the winter stills the sadden'd bird, The sweeter music of glad homes is heard;

And with the objects of the dearer care, 83 The parting gifts of the old soil are home; Soon Tusca's grape hangs flushing in the air, And the glebe ripples with the golden corn; Gleams on grey slopes the olive's silvery tree, In her lone Alpine child,--far Fiesole

Revives--reblooms, but under happier stars! 84 Age rolls on age,--upon the antique world Full many a storm hath graved its thunder scars; Tombs only speak the Etrurian's language;[9]--hurl'd To dust the shrines of Naith;[10]--the serpents hiss On Asia's throne in lorn Persepolis;

The seaweed rots upon the ports of Tyre: 85 On Delphi's steep the Pythian's voice is dumb; Sad Athens leans upon her broken lyre; From the doom'd East the Bethlem Star hath come; But Rome an empire from an empire's loss Gains in the G.o.d Rome yielded to the Cross!

And here, as in a crypt, the miser Time, 86 h.o.a.rds, from all else, embedded in the stone, One eldest treasure--fresh as when, sublime O'er G.o.ds and men, Jove thunder'd from his throne-- The garb, the arts, the creed, the tongue, the same As when to Tarquin c.u.ma's sibyl came.

The soil's first fathers, with elaborate hands, 87 Had closed the rocky portals of the place; No egress opens to unhappier lands: As tree on tree, so race succeeds to race, From sleep the pa.s.sions no temptations draw, And strife bows childlike to the patriarch's law;

Lull'd was ambition; each soft lot was cast; 88 Gold had no use; with war expired renown; From priest to priest mysterious reverence past; From king to king the mild Saturnian crown: Like dews, the rest came harmless into birth; Like dews exhaling--after gladd'ning earth.

Not wholly dead, indeed, the love of praise-- 89 When can that warmth from heaven forsake the heart?

The Hister's[11] lyre still thrill'd with Camsee's lays, Still urn and statue caught the Arretian art, And hands, least skill'd, found leisure still to cull Some flowers, in offering to the Beautiful.

Hence the whole vale one garden of delight; 90 Hence every home a temple for the Grace: Who worships Nature finds in Art the rite; And Beauty grows the Genius of the Place.

Enough this record of the happy land: Whom watch, whom wait ye for, O lovely band?

Listen awhile!--The strength of that soft state, 91 The arch's key-stones, are the priest and king; To guard all power inviolate from debate, To curb all impulse, or direct its wing, In antique forms to mould from childhood all;-- _This_ guards more strongly than the Alpine wall.

The regal chief might wed as choice inclined, 92 Not so the daughters sprung from his embrace, Law, strong as caste, their nuptial rite confined To the pure circle of the Lartian race; Hence with more awe the kingly house was view'd, Hence nipp'd ambition bore no rival feud.

But now, as on some eldest oak, decay 93 In the proud topmost boughs is serely shown; While life yet shoots from every humbler spray-- So, of the royal tribe one branch alone Remains; and all the honours of the race Lend their last bloom to smile in aegle's face.[12]

The great arch-priest (to whom the laws a.s.sign 94 The charge of this sweet blossom from the bud), Consults the annals archived in the shrine, And, twice before, when fail'd the Lartian blood, And no male heir was found, the guiding page Records the expedient of the elder age.

Rather than yield to rival tribes the hope 95 That wakes aspiring thought and tempts to strife; And (lowering awful reverence) rashly ope The pales that mark the set degrees of life, The priest (to whom the secret only known) Unlock'd the artful portals of the stone;

And watch'd and lured some wanderer, o'er the steep, 96 Into the vale, return for ever o'er; The gate, like Death's, reclosed upon the keep-- Earth left its ghost as on the Funeral sh.o.r.e.

And what more envied lot could earth provide Than calm Elysium--with a living bride?

A priestly tale the simple flock deceived: 97 The G.o.ds had care of their Tagetian child![13]

The nuptial garlands for a G.o.d they weaved; A G.o.d himself upon the maid had smiled, A G.o.d himself renew'd the race divine, And gave new monarchs to the Lartian line.

Yet short, alas! the incense of delight 98 That lull'd the new-found Ammon of the Hour; Like love's own star, upon the verge of night, Trembled the torch that lit the bridal bower; Soon as a son was born--his mission o'er-- The stranger vanish'd to his G.o.ds once more.

Two temples closed the boundaries of the place, 99 One (vow'd to Tina) in its walls conceal'd The granite portals, by the former race So deftly fashion'd,--not a c.h.i.n.k reveal'd Where (twice unbarr'd in all the ages flown) The stony donjon mask'd the door of stone.

The fane of Mantu[14] form'd the opposing bound 100 Of the long valley; where the surplus wave Of the main stream a gloomy outlet found, Split on sharp rocks beneath a night of cave, And there, in torrents, down some lost ravine Where Alps took root--fell heard, but never seen.

Right o'er this cave the Death-Power's temple rose; 101 The cave's dark vault was curtain'd by the shrine; Here by the priest (the sacred scrolls depose) Was led the bridegroom when renew'd the line; At night, that shrine his steps unprescient trod-- And morning came, and earth had lost the G.o.d!

Nine days had now the Augur to the flock 102 Announced the coming of the heavenly spouse; Nine days his steps had wander'd through the rock, And his eye watch'd through unfamiliar boughs, And not a foot-fall in those rugged ways!

The lone Alps wearied on his lonely gaze--

But now this day (the tenth) the signal torch 103 Streams from the temple; the mysterious swell Of long-drawn music peals from aisle to porch:-- He leaves the bright hall where the aesars[15] dwell, He comes, o'er flowers and fountains to preside, He comes, the G.o.d-spouse to the mortal bride--

He comes, for whom ye watch'd, O lovely band, 104 Scatter your flowers before his welcome feet!

Lo, where the temple's holy gates expand, Haste, O ye nymphs, the bright'ning steps to meet Why start ye back?--What though the blaze of steel The form of Mars, the expanding gates reveal--

The face, no helmet crowns with war, displays 105 Not that fierce G.o.d from whom Etruria fled; Cull from far softer legends while ye gaze, Not there the aspect mortal maid should dread!

Have ye no songs from kindred Castaly Of that bright Wanderer from the Olympian[16] sky,

Who, in Arcadian dells, with silver lute 106 Hush'd in delight the nymph and breathless faun?

Or are your cold Etrurian minstrels mute Of him whom Syria worshipp'd as the Dawn And Greece as fair Adonis? Hail, O hail!

Scatter your flowers, and welcome to the vale!

Wondering the stranger moves! That fairy land, 107 Those forms of dark yet l.u.s.trous loveliness,[17]

That solemn seer who leads him by the hand; The tongue unknown, the joy he cannot guess, Blend in one marvel every sound and sight; And in the strangeness doubles the delight.

Young aegle sits within her palace bower, 108 She hears the cymbals clashing from afar-- So Ormuzd's music welcomed in the hour When the sun hasten'd to his morning-star.

Smile, Star of Morn--he cometh from above!

And twilight melts around the steps of Love.

Save the grey Augur (since the unconscious child 109 Sprang to the last kiss of her dying sire) Those eyes by man's rude presence undefiled, Had deepen'd into woman's. As a lyre Hung on unwitness'd boughs, amidst the shade, And but to air her soul its music made.

Fair was her prison, wall'd with woven flowers, 110 In a soft isle embraced by softest waters, Linnet and lark the sentries to the towers, And for the guard Etruria's infant daughters; But stronger far than walls, the antique law, And more than hosts, religion's shadowy awe.

Thus lone, thus reverenced, the young virgin grew 111 Into the age, when on the heart's calm wave The light winds tremble, and emotions new Steal to the peace departing childhood gave; When for the vague Beyond the captive pines, And the soul misses--what it scarce divines.

Lo where she sits--(and blossoms arch the dome) 112 Girt by young handmaids!--Near and nearer swelling The cymbals sound before the steps that come O'er rose and hyacinth to the bridal dwelling; And clear and loud the summer air along From virgin voices floats the choral song.

Lo where the sacred talismans diffuse 113 Their fragrant charms against the Evil Powers; Lo where young hands the consecrated dews From cusped vervain sprinkle round the flowers, And o'er the robe, with broider'd palm-leaves sown, That decks the daughter of the peaceful throne!

Lo, on those locks of night the myrtle crown, 114 Lo, where the heart beats quick beneath the veil; Lo, where the lids, cast tremulously down, Cloud stars which Eros as his own might hail; Oh, lovelier than Endymion's loveliest dream, Joy to the heart on which those eyes shall beam!

The bark comes bounding to the islet sh.o.r.e, 115 The trellised gates fly back: the footsteps fall Through jasmined galleries on the threshold floor; And, in the Heart-Enchainer's golden thrall, There, spell-bound halt;--So, first since youth began Her eyes meet youth in the charm'd eyes of man!

And there Art's two opposed Ideals rest; 116 There the twin flowers of the old world bloom forth; The cla.s.sic symbol of the gentle West, And the bold type of the chivalric North.

What trial waits thee, Cymrian, sharper here Than the wolf's death-fang or the Saxon's spear?

But would ye learn how he we left afar, 117 Girt by the stormy people of the wild, Came to the confines of the Hesperus Star, And the soft gardens of the Etrurian child; Would ye, yet lingering in the wondrous vale, Learn what time spares if sorrow can a.s.sail;

What there, forgetful of the vanish'd dove, 118 (Lost at these portals) did the king befall; Pause till the hand has tuned the harp to love, And notes that bring young listeners to the hall; And he, whose sires in Cymri reign'd, shall sing How Tusca's daughter loved the Cymrian King.

NOTES TO BOOK III.