COVENTRY KEARSEY DEIGHTON PATMORE.
FROM THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE.' 21
FROM BOOK I., CANTO IV.
BOON Nature to the woman bows;
She walks in earth's whole glory clad,
And, chiefest far herself of shows,
All others help her, and are glad:
No splendor 'neath the sky's proud dome
But serves for her familiar wear;
The far-fetched diamond finds its home
Flashing and smouldering in her hair;
For her the seas their pearls reveal;
Art and strange lands her pomp supply
With purple, chrome, and cochineal,
Ochre, and lapis lazuli;
The worm its golden woof presents;
Whatever runs, flies, dives, or delves,
All doff for her their ornaments,
Which suit her better than themselves;
And all, by this their power to give,
Proving her right to take, proclaim
Her beauty's clear prerogative
To profit so by Eden's blame.
FROM BOOK I., CANTO v.
THEY safely walk in darkest ways
Whose youth is lighted from above,
Where, through the senses' silvery haze,
Dawns the veiled moon of nuptial love.
Who is the happy husband? He
Who, scanning his unwedded life,
Thanks Heaven, with a conscience free,
'T was faithful to his future wife.
FROM BOOK I., CANTO VII.
How vilely 't were to misdeserve
The poet's gift of perfect speech,
In song to try, with trembling nerve,
The limit of its utmost reach,
Only to sound the wretched praise
Of what to-morrow shall not be ;
So mocking with immortal bays
The cross-bones of mortality!
I do not thus. My faith is fast
That all the loveliness I sing
Is made to bear the mortal blast,
And blossom in a better Spring.
Doubts of eternity ne'er cross
The Lover's mind, divinely clear;
For ever is the gain or loss
Which maddens him with hope or fear:
So trifles serve for his relief,
And trifles make him sick and pale;
And yet his pleasure and his grief
Are both on a majestic scale.
The chance, indefinitely small,
Of issue infinitely great,
Eclipses finite interests all,
And has the dignity of fate.
THE music of the Sirens found
Ulysses weak, though cords were strong;
But happier Orpheus stood unbound,
And shamed it with a sweeter song.
His mode be mine. Of Heav'n I ask,
May I, with heart-persuading might,
Pursue the Poet's sacred task
Of superseding faith by sight,
Till ev'n the witless Gadarene,
Preferring Christ to swine, shall know
That life is sweetest when it's clean.
To prouder folly let me show
Earth by divine light made divine;
And let the saints, who hear my word,
Say, 'Lo, the clouds begin to shine
About the coming of the Lord!'
FROM BOOK II., CANTO IV.
WHAT should I do? In such a wife
Fortune had lavished all her store,
And nothing now seemed left for life
But to deserve her more and more.
To this I vowed my life's whole scope;
And Love said, 'I forewarn you now,
The Maiden will fulfil your hope
Only as you fulfil your vow.'
A promised service (task for days),
Was done this morning while she slept, With that full heart which thinks no praise Of vows which are not more than kept; But loftier work did love impose,
And studious hours. Alas, for these, While she from all my thoughts arose Like Venus from the restless seas!
I conned a scheme, with mind elate:
My Uncle's land would fall to me,
My skill was much in school debate,
My friends were strong in Salisbury;
A place in Parliament once gained,
Thro' saps first labored out of sight, Far loftier peaks were then attained With easy leaps from height to height; And that o'erwhelming honor paid,
Or recognized, at least, in life,
Which this most sweet and noble Maid Should yield to him who called her Wife.
I fixed this rule: in Sarum Close
To make two visits every week,
The first, to-day; and, save on those,
I nought would do, think, read, or speak, Which did not help my settled will
To earn the Statesman's proud applause. And now, forthwith, to mend my skill In ethics, politics, and laws,
The Statesman's learning! Flushed with power And pride of freshly-formed resolve,
I read Helvetius half-an-hour;
But, halting in attempts to solve
Why, more than all things else that be,
A lady's grace hath force to move
That sensitive appetency
Of intellectual good, called love,
Took Blackstone down, only to draw
My swift-deriving thoughts ere long
To love, which is the source of law,
And, like a king, can do no wrong;
Then opened Hyde, where loyal hearts,
With faith unpropped by precedent,
Began to play rebellious parts.
O, mighty stir that little meant !
How dull the crude, ploughed fields of fact
To me who trod the Elysian grove !
How idle all heroic act
By the least suffering of love!
I could not read; so took my pen,
And thus commenced, in form of notes,
A Lecture for the Salisbury men,
With due regard to Tory votes:
'A road's a road, though worn to ruts;
They speed who travel straight therein :
But he who tacks and tries short cuts
Gets fools' praise and a broken shin — '
And here I stopped in sheer despair;
But, what to-day was thus begun,
I vowed, up starting from my chair,
To-morrow should indeed be done;
So loosed my chafing thoughts from school,
To play with fancy as they chose,
And then, according to my rule,
I dressed, and came to Sarum Close.
|