« EelmineJätka »
And the glow-worm of the grave
Glimmer iu thy rheumy eyes.
"Fear not thou to loose thy tongue ;
Set thy hoary fancies free; What is loathsome to the young
Savors ell to thee and me.
“Let me screw thee up a peg:
Let me loose thy tongue with wine: Callest thou that thing a leg?
Which is thinnest ? thine or mine ? "Thou shalt not be saved by works:
Thou hast been a sinner too: Ruin'd trunks on wither'd forks,
Empty scarecrows, I and you ! “Fill the cup, and all the can:
Have a rouse before the morn : Every moment dies a man,
Every moment one is born. “ We are men of ruin'd blood;
Therefore comes it we are wise. Fish are we that love the mud,
Rising to no fancy-flies.
“ Change, reverting to the years,
When thy nerves could understand What there is in loving tears,
Aud the warmth of hand in hand.
“Tell me tales of thy first love
April hopes, the fools of chance: Till the graves begin to move,
And the dead begin to dance.
“Name and fame! to fly sublime
Through the courts, the camps, the schools, Is to be the ball of Time;
Bandied in the hands of fools.
“Fill the can, and fill the cup:
All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up,
And is lightly laid again.
“Trooping from their mouldy dens
The chap-fallen circle spreads : Welcome, fellow-citizens,
Hollow hearts and empty heads i “You are bones, and what of that?
Every face, however full, Padded round with flesh and fat,
Is but modellid on a skull.
“Death is king, and Vivat Rex!
Tread a measure on the stones, Madam-if I know your sex,
From the fashion of your bones.
“Friendship!-to be two in one
Let the capting liar pack ! Well I know, when I am gone,
How she mouths behind my back. “Virtue!-to be good and just
Every heart, when sifted well, Is a clot of warmer dust,
Mix'd with canning sparks of hell. ** O! we two as well can look
Whited thought and cleanly life As the priest, above his book
Leering at his neighbor's wife. "Fill the cnp, and fill the can:
Have a rouse before the morn: Every moment dies a man,
Every moment one is born. "Drink, and let the parties rave:
They are fill'd with idle spleen ; Rising, falling, like a wave,
For they know not what they mean. “He that roars for liberty
Faster binds a tyrant's power; And the tyrant's cruel glee
Forces on the freer hour.
“No, I cannot praise the fire
In your eye-nor yet your lip: All the more do I admire
Joints of cunning workmanship. "Lo! God's likeness—the ground-plan
Neither modellid, glazed, or framed: Buss me, thou rough sketch of man,
Far too naked to be shamed !
“Drink to Fortune, drink to Chance,
While we keep a little breath! Drink to heavy Ignorance !
Hob-and-nob with brother Death!
“Thou art mazed, the vight is long,
And the longer night is near: What! I am not all as wrong
As a bitter jest is dear.
"Fill the can, and fill the cup:
All the windy ways of men Are bat dust that rises up,
And is lightly laid again. "Greet her with applausive breath,
Freedom, gayly doth she tread; In her right a civic wreath,
In her left a human head
“Youthful hopes, by scores, to all,
When the locks are crisp and currd; Unto me my maudlin gall And my
mockeries of the world.
“Fill the cup, and fill the can!
Mingle madness, mingle scorn! Dregs of life, and lees of man:
Yet we will not die forlorn.”
"No, I love not what is new;
She is of an ancient house : And I think we know the hue
of that cap upon her brows. “Let her go! her thirst she slakes
Where the bloody conduit rans: Then her sweetest meal she makes
On the first-born of her sons. “Drink to lofty hopes that cool
Visions of a perfect State: Drink we, last, the public fool,
Frantic love and frantic hate. “Chant me row some wicked stave, Till thy drooping courage rise,
The voice grew faint: there came a further change
And sister Lilia with the rest." We went
(I kept the book and had my finger in it) SIB WALTER Vivian all a summer's day
Down thro’ the park: strange was the sight to me: Gave his broad lawns until the set of sun
For all the sloping pasture murmur'd, sown Up to the people : thither flock'd at noon
With happy faces and with holiday. His tenants, wife and child, and thither half
There moved the multitude, a thousand heads; The neighboring borough with their Institute
The patient leaders of their Institute Of which he was the patron. I was there
Taught them with facts. One reard a font of stone From college, visiting the son,—the son
And drew from butts of water on the slope, A Walter too,-with others of our set,
The fountain of the moment, playing now Five others: we were seven at Vivian-place.
A twisted snake, and now a rain of pearls,
Or steep-up spout whereon the gilded ball And me that morning Walter show'd the house,
Danced like a wisp: and somewhat lower down Greek, set with busts: from vases in the hall Flowers of all heavens, and lovelier than their names, A cannon: Echo answer'd in her sleep
A man with knobs and wires and vials fired Grew side by side ; and on the pavement lay
From hollow fields: and here were telescopes Carved stones of the Abbey-ruin in the park.
For azure views; and there a group of girls Huge Ammonites, and the first bones of Time ;
In circle waited, whom the electric shock And on the tables every elime and age
Dislink'd with shrieks and laughter: round the laka Jumbled together : celts and calumets,
A little clock-work steamer paddling plied Claymore and snow-shoe, toys in lava, fans
And shook the lilies : perch'd about the knolls Of sandal, amber, ancient rosaries,
A dozen angry models jetted steam: Laborious orient ivory sphere in sphere,
A petty railway ran: a fire-balloon The cursed Malayan crease, and battle-clubs
Rose gem-like up before the dusky groves From the isles of palm : and higher on the walls,
And dropt a fairy parachute and past : Betwixt the monstrous horns of elk and deer,
And there thro' twenty posts of telegraph His own forefathers' arms and armor hung.
They flash'd a saucy message to and fro
Between the mimic stations; so that sport And “this," he said, “ was Hugh's at Agincourt; Went hand in hand with Science; otherwhere And that was old Sir Ralph's at Ascalon:
Pure sport: a herd of boys with clamor bowl'd, A good knight he! we keep a chronicle
And stump'd the wicket; babies roll'd about With all about him,"_which he brought, and I
Like tumbled fruit in grass ; and men and maids Dived in a hoard of tales that dealt with knights
Arranged a country dance, and flew thro' light Half-legend, half-historic, counts and kings
And shadow, while the twangling violin Who laid about them at their wills and died ;
Strnck up with Soldier-laddie, and overhead And mixt with these, a lady, one that arm'd The broad ambrosial aisles of lofty lime Her own fair head, and sallying thro' the gate, Made noise with bees and breeze from end to end. Had beat her foes with slaughter from her walls.
Strange was the sight and smacking of the time; "O miracle of women,' " said the book,
And long we gazed, but satiated at length "O noble heart who, being strait-besieged
Came to the ruins. High-arch'd and ivy-claspt, By this wild king to force her to his wish,
of finest Gothic lighter than a fire, Nor bent, nor broke, nor shunnid a soldier's death, Thro' one wide chasm of time and frost they gave But now when all was lost or seem'd as lost- The park, the crowd, the house; but all within Her stature more than mortal in the burst
The sward was trim as any garden lawn: Of sunrise, her arm lifted, eyes on fire
And here we lit on Aunt Elizabeth, Brake with a blast of trumpets from the gate, And Lilia with the rest, and lady friends And, falling on them like a thunderbolt,
From neighbor seats: and there was Ralph himself, She trampled some beneath her horses' heels, A broken statue propt against the wall, And some were whelm'd with missiles of the wall, As gay as any. Lilia, wild with sport, And some were push'd with lances from the rock, Half child, half woman as she was, had wound And part were drown'd within the whirling brook: A scarf of orange round the stony helm, O miracle of noble womanhood !"
And robed the shoulders in a rosy silk,
That made the old warrior from his ivied nook So sang the gallant glorious chronicle ;
Glow like a sunbeam: near his tomb a feast And, I all rapt in this, “Come out," he said, Shone, silver-set; about it lay the guests, “To the Abbey: there is Aunt Elizabeth
And there we joined them : then the maiden Aunt
Took this fair day for text, and from it preach'd So moulder'd in a sinecure as he:
For while our cloisters echo'd frosty feet,
As many little trifling Lilias-play'd But honeying at the whisper of a lord;
Charades and riddles as at Christmas here, And one the Master, as a rogue in grain
And what's my thought and when and where and how Veneer'd with sanctimonious theory.
And often told a tale from mouth to mouth
As here at Christmas." But while they talk'd, above their heads I saw
She remember'd that: The feudal warrior lady-clad; which brought A pleasant game, she thought: she liked it more My book to mind: and opening this I read
Than magic music, forfeits, all the rest. of old Sir Ralph a page or two that rang
But these-what kind of tales did men tell men, With tilt and tourney; then the tale of her
She wonder'd, by themselves ! That drove her foes with slaughter from her walls,
A half-disdain And much I praised her nobleness, and “Where,” Perch'd on the pouted blossom of her lips : Ask'd Walter, patting Lilia's head (she lay
And Walter nodded at me ; " He began, Beside him) "lives there such a woman now !" The rest would follow, each in turn; and so
Quick answer'd Lilia, “There are thousands now We forged a sevenfold story. Kind? what kind !
Sevev-headed monsters only made to kill
" Kill him now, Some mighty poetess, I would shame you then, The tyrant! kill bim in the summer too,” That love to keep us children! 0 I wish
Said Lilia ; “Why not now," the maiden Aunt. That I were some great Princess, I would build “Why not a summer's as a winter's tale ? Far off from men a college like a man's,
A tale for summer as befits the time, And I would teach them all that men are taught: And something it should be to suit the place, We are twice as quick!" And here she shook aside Heroic, for a hero lies beneath, The hand that play'd the patron with her curls. Grave, solemn !"
Walter warp'd his mouth at this And one said smiling, “ Pretty were the sight To something so mock-solemn, that I laugh'd If onr old halls could change their sex, and flaunt And Lilia woke with sudden-shrilling mirth With prudes for proctors, dowagers for deans, An echo like a ghostly woodpecker, And sweet girl-graduates in their golden hair. Hid in the ruins; till the maiden Aunt I think they should not wear our rusty gowns, (A little sense of wrong had touch'd her face But move as rich as Emperor-moths or Ralph With color) turn'd to me with “As you will; Who shines so in the corner ; yet I fear,
Heroic if you will, or what you will, If there were many Lilias in the brood,
Or be yourself your hero if you will." However deep you might embower the nest,
“Take Lilia, then, for heroine," clamor'd he, Some boy would spy it.”
* And make her some great Princess, six feet high, At this npou the sward Grand, epic, homicidal ; and be you She tapt her tiny silken-sandal'd foot:
The Prince to win her!" "That's your light way: but I would make it death
" Then follow me, the Prince," For any male thing but to peep at us."
I answer'd, " each be hero in his turn !
Seven and yet one, like shadows in a dream.Petulant she spoke, and at herself she laugh'd ; Heroic seems our Princess as required.--A rose-bud set with little wilful thorns,
But something made to suit with Time and place, And sweet as English air could make her, she: A Gothic ruin and a Grecian house, But Walter hail'd a score of names upon her, A talk of college and of ladies' rights, And "petty Ogress," and "ungrateful Puss," A feudal knight in silken masquerade, And swore he long'd at College, only long'd, And, yonder, shrieks and strange experiments All else was well, for she-society.
For which the good Sir Ralph had burnt them allThey boated and they cricketed; they talk'd This were a medley! we should have him back At wine, in clubs, of art, of politics ;
Who told the “Winter's tale' to do it for us. They lost their weeks; they vext the souls of deans; No matter : we will say whatever comes. They rode; they betted ; made a hundred friends, And let the ladies sing us, if they will, And caught the blossom of the flying terms, From time to time, some ballad or a song But miss'd the mignonette of Vivian-place,
To give us breathing-space.” The little hearth-flower Lilia. Thus he spoke,
So I began, Part banter, part affection,
And the rest follow'd: and the women gang
"True," she said, Between the rougher voices of the men, "We doubt not that. O yes, you miss'd us much. Like lipuets in the pauses of the wind : I'll stake my ruby ring upon it you did.”
And here I give the story and the songs. She held it out; and as a parrot turns
A PRINDE I was, blue-eyed, and fair in face,
With lengths of yellow ringlet, like a girl,
There lived an ancient legend in our house. And there we took one tutor as to read:
Some sorcerer, whom a far-off grandsire burnt The hard-grain'd Muses of the cube and square Because he cast no shadow, had foretold, Were out of season : never man, I think,
Dying, that none of all our blood should know