MEDUSA
Leaving him enwrapt
In musings, to a gloomy pass I came
Between dark rocks, where scarce a gleam of light,
Not even the niggard light of that dim land,
Might enter; and the soil was black and bare,
Nor even the thin growths which scarcely clothed
The higher fields might live. Hard by a cave
Which sloped down steeply to the lowest depths,
Whence dreadful sounds ascended, seated still,
Her head upon her hands, I saw a maid
With eyes fixed on the ground—not Tartarus
It was, but Hades; and she knew no pain,
Except her painful thought. Yet there it seemed,
As here, the unequal measure which awaits
The adjustment, and meanwhile, inspires the strife
Which rears life's palace walls; and fills the sail
Which bears our bark across unfathomed seas,
To its last harbour; this bore sway there too,
And 'twas a luckless shade which sat and wept
Amid the gloom, though blameless. Suddenly,
She raised her head, and lo! the long curls, writhed
Tangled, and snake-like—as the dripping hair
Of a dead girl who freed from life and shame,
From out the cruel wintry flow, is laid
Stark on the snow with dreadful staring eyes
Like hers. For when she raised her eyes to mine,
They chilled my blood, so great a woe they bore;
And as she gazed, wide-eyed, I knew my pulse
Beat slow, and my limbs stiffen. Then they wore,
At length, a softer look, and life revived
Within my breast as thus she softly spoke:
"Nay, friend, I would not harm thee. I have known
Great sorrow, and sometimes it racks me still,
And turns me into stone, and makes my eyes
As dreadful as of yore; and yet it comes
But seldom, as thou sawest, now, for Time
And Death have healing hands. Only I love
To sit within the darkness here, nor face
The throng of happier ghosts; if any ghost
Of happiness come here. For on the earth
They wronged me bitterly, and turned to stone
My heart, till scarce I knew if e'er I was
The happy girl of yore.
That youth who dreams
Up yonder by the margin of the lake,
Knew but a cold ideal love, but me
Love in unearthly guise, but bodily form,
Seized and betrayed.
I was a priestess once,
Of stern Athené, doing day by day
Due worship; raising, every dawn that came,
My cold pure hymns to take her virgin ear;
Nor sporting with the joyous company
Of youths and maids, who at the neighbouring shrine
Of Aphrodité served. Nor dance nor song
Allured me, nor the pleasant days of youth
And twilights 'mid the vines. They held me cold
Who were my friends in childhood. For my soul
Was virginal, and at the virgin shrine
I knelt, athirst for knowledge. Day by day
The long cold ritual sped, the liturgies
Were done, the barren hymns of praise went up
Before the goddess, and the ecstasy
Of faith possessed me wholly, till almost
I knew not I was woman. Yet I knew
That I was fair to see, and fit to share
Some natural honest love, and bear the load
Of children like the rest; only my soul
Was lost in higher yearnings.
Like a god,
He burst upon those pallid lifeless days,
Bringing fresh airs and salt, as from the sea,
And wrecked my life. How should a virgin know
Deceit, who never at the joyous shrine
Of Cypris knelt, but ever lived apart,
And so grew guilty? For if I had spent
My days among the throng, either my fault
Were blameless, or undone. For innocence
The tempter spreads his net. For innocence
The gods keep all their terrors. Innocence
It is that bears the burden, which for guilt
Is lightened, and the spoiler goes his way,
Uncaring, joyous, leaving her alone,
The victim and unfriended.
Was it just
In her, my mistress, who had had my youth,
To wreak such vengeance on me? I had erred,
It may be; but on him, whose was the guilt,
No heaven-sent vengeance lighted, but he sped
Away to other hearts across the deep,
Careless and free; but me, the cold stern eyes
Of the pure goddess withered; and the scorn
Of maids, despised before, and the great blank
Of love, whose love was gone—this wrung my heart,
And froze my blood; set on my brow despair,
And turned my gaze to stone, and filled my eyes
With horror, and stiffened the soft curls which once
Lay smooth and fair into such snake-like rings
As made my aspect fearful. All who saw,
Shrank from me and grew cold, and felt the warm,
Full tide of life freeze in them, seeing in me
Love's work, who sat wrapt up and lost in shame,
As in a cloak, consuming my own heart,
And was in hell already. As they gazed
Upon me, my despair looked forth so cold
From out my eyes, that if some spoiler came
Fresh from his wickedness, and looked on them,
Their glare would strike him dead; and those fair curls
Which once the accursèd toyed with, grew to be
The poisonous things thou seest; and so, with hate
Of man's injustice and the gods', who knew
Me blameless, and yet punished me; and sick
Of life and love, and loathing earth and sky,
And feeding on my sorrow, Hate at last
Left me a Fury.
Ah, the load of life
Which lives for hatred! We are made to love—
We women, and the injury which turns
The honey of our lives to gall, transforms
The angel to the fiend. For it is sweet
To know the dreadful sense of strength, and smite
And leave the tyrant dead with a glance; ay! sweet,
In that fierce lust of power, to slay the life
Which harmed not, when the suppliants' cry ascends
To ears which hate has deafened. So I lived
Long time in misery; to my sleepless eyes
No healing slumbers coming; but at length,
Zeus and the goddess pitying, I knew
Soft rest once more veiling my dreadful gaze
In peaceful slumbers. Then a blessed dream
I dreamt. For, lo! a god-like knight in mail
Of gold, who sheared with his keen flashing blade;
With scarce a pang of pain, the visage cold
Which too great sorrow left me; at one stroke
Clean from the trunk, and then o'er land and sea,
Invisible, sped with winged heels, to where,
Upon a sea-worn cape, a fair young maid,
More blameless even than I was, chained and bound,
Waited a monster from the deep and stood
In innocent nakedness. Then, as he rose,
Loathsome, from out the depths, a monstrous growth,
A creature wholly serpent, partly man,
The wrongs that I had known, stronger than death,
Rose up with such black hate in me again,
And wreathed such hissing poison through my hair,
And shot such deadly glances from my eyes,
That nought that saw might live. And the vile worm
Was slain, and she delivered. Then I dreamt
My mistress, whom I thought so stern to me,
Athené, set those dreadful staring eyes,
And that despairing visage, on her shield
Of chastity, and bears it evermore
To fright the waverer from the wrong he would,
And strike the unrepenting spoiler, dead."
Then for a little paused she, while I saw
Again her eyes grown dreadful, till once more,
And with a softer glance:
"From that blest dream
I woke not on the earth, but only here.
And now my pain is lightened since I know
My dream, which was a dream within the dream
Which is our life, fulfilled. And I have saved
Another through my suffering, and through her
A people. Oh, strange chain of sacrifice,
That binds an innocent life, and from its blood
And sorrow works out joy! Oh, mystery
Of pain and evil! wrong grown salutary,
And mighty to redeem! If thou shouldst see
A woman on the earth, who pays to-day
Like penalty of sin, and the new gods
(For after Saturn, Zeus ruled; after him
It may be there are others) love to take
The tender heart of girlhood, and to immure
Within a cold and cloistered cell the life
Which nature meant to bless, and if Love come
Hold her accursèd; or to some poor maid,
Forlorn and trusting, still the tempter comes
And works his wrong, and leaves her in despair
And shame and all abhorrence, while he goes
His way unpunished,—if thou know her eyes
Freeze thee like mine—oh! bid her lose her pain
In succouring others—say to her that Time
And Death have healing hands, and here there comes
To the forgiven transgressor only pain
Enough to chasten joy!"
And a soft tear
Trembled within her eyes, and her sweet gaze
Was as the Magdalen's, the horror gone
And a great radiance come.
ADONIS
Then as I passed
To upper air, I saw two figures rise
Together, one a woman with a grave
Fair face not all unhappy, and the robes
And presence of a queen; and with her walked
The fairest youth that ever maiden's dream
Conceived. And as they came, the throng of ghosts,
For these who were not wholly ghosts, arose,
And did them homage. Not the chain of love
Bound them, but such calm kinship as is bred
Of long and difficult pilgrimages borne
Through common perils by two souls which share
A common weary exile. Nor as ghosts
These showed, but rather like two lives which hung
Suspended in a trance. A halo of life
Played round them, and they brought a sweet brisk air
Tasting of earth and heaven, like sojourners
Who stayed but for awhile, and knew a swift
Release await them. First the youth it was
Who spake thus as they passed:
"Dread Queen, once more
I feel life stir within me, and my blood
Run faster, while a new strange cycle turns
And grows completed. Soon on the dear earth
Under the lively light of fuller day,
I shall revive me of my wound; and thou,
Passing with me yon cold and lifeless stream,
And the grim monster who will fawn on thee,
Shalt issue in royal pomp, and wreathed with flowers,
Upon the cheerful earth, leaving behind
A deeper winter for the ghosts who dwell
Within these sunless haunts; and I shall lie
Once more within loved arms, and thou shalt see
Thy early home, and kiss thy mother's cheek,
And be a girl again. But not for long;
For ere the bounteous Autumn spreads her hues
Of gold and purple, a cold voice will call
And bring us to these wintry lands once more,
As erst so often. Blest are we, indeed,
Above the rest, and yet I would I knew
The careless joys of old.
For in hot youth,
Oh, it was sweet to greet the balmy night
That was love's nurse, and feel the weary eyes
Closed by soft kisses,—sweet at early dawn
To wake refreshed and, scarce from loving arms
Leaping, to issue forth, with winding horn,
By dewy heath and brake, and taste the fair
Young breath of early morning; and 'twas sweet
To chase the bounding quarry all day long
With my true hounds and rapid steed, and gay
Companions of my youth, and with the eve
To turn home laden with the spoil, and take
The banquet which awaited, and sweet wine
Poured out, and kisses pressed on loving lips;
Circled by snowy arms. Oh, it was sweet
To be alive and young!
For sure it is
The gods gave not quick pulses and hot blood
And strength and beauty for no end, but would
That we should use them wisely; and the fair,
Sweet mistress of my service was, indeed,
Worthy of all observance. Oh, her eyes
When I lay bleeding! All day long we rode,
I and my youthful peers, with horse and hound,
And knew the joy of swift pursuit and toil
And peril. At the last, a fierce boar turned
At bay, and with his gleaming tusks o'erthrew
My steed, and as I fell upon the flowers,
Pierced me as with a sword. Then, as I lay,
I knew the strange slow chill which, stealing, tells
The young that it is death. Yet knew I not
Of pain or fear, only great pity, indeed,
That she should lose her love, who was so fond
And gracious. But when, lifting my dim gaze,
I saw her bend o'er me,—the lovely eyes
Suffused with tears, and her sweet smile replaced
By agonized sorrow,—for a while I stayed
Life's ebbing tide, and raised my cold, white lips,
With a faint smile, to hers. Then, with a kiss—
One long last kiss, we mingled, and I knew
No more.
But even in death, so strong is Love,
I could not wholly die; and year by year,
When the bright springtime comes, and the earth lives,
Love opens these dread gates, and calls me forth
Across the gulf. Not here, indeed, she comes,
Being a goddess and in heaven, but smooths
My path to the old earth, where still I know
Once more the sweet lost days, and once again
Blossom on that soft breast, and am again
A youth, and rapt in love; and yet not all
As careless as of yore; but seem to know
The early spring of passion, tamed by time
And suffering, to a calmer, fuller flow,
Less fitful, but more strong."
PERSEPHONE
Then the sad Queen
"Fair youth, thy lot I know, for I am old
As the old earth and yet as young as is
The budding spring, and I was here a Queen,
When Love was not or Time, and to my arms
Thou camest as a little child, to dwell
Within the halls of Death, for without Death
There were nor Birth nor Love, nor would Life yearn
To lose itself within another life,
And dying, to be born. I, too, have died
For love in part, and live again through love;
For in the far-off years, when Time was young,
And Love unborn on earth, and Zeus in heaven
Ruled, a young sovereign; I, a maiden, dwelt
With dread Demeter on the lovely plains
Of sunny Sicily. There, day by day,
I sported with the maiden goddesses,
In virgin freedom. Budding age made gay
Our lightsome feet, and on the flowery slopes
We wandered daily, gathering flowers to weave
In careless garlands for our locks, and passed
The days in innocent gladness. Thought of Love
There came not to us, for as yet the earth
Was virginal, nor yet had Eros come
With his delicious pain.
And one fair morn—
Not all the ages blot it—on the side
Of Ætna we were straying. There was then
Summer nor winter, springtide nor the time
Of harvest, but the soft unfailing sun
Shone always, and the sowing time was one
With reaping; fruit and flower together sprung
Upon the trees; and blade and ripened ear
Together clothed the plains. There, as I strayed,
Sudden a black cloud down the rugged side
Of Ætna, mixed with fire and dreadful sound
Of thunder, rolled around me, and I heard
The maids who were my fellows turn and flee
With shrieks and cries for me.
But I, I knew
No terror while the god o'ershadowed me,
Hiding my life in his, nor when I wept
My flowers all withered, and my blood ran slow
Within a wintry land. Some voice there was
Which said, 'Fear not. Thou shalt return and see
Thy mother again, only a little while
Fate wills that thou shouldst tarry, and become
Queen of another world. Thou seest that all
Thy flowers are faded. They shall live again
On earth, as thou shalt, as thou livest now
The Life of Death—for what is Death but Life
Suspended as in sleep? The changeless rule
Where life was constant, and the sun o'erhead,
Blazed forth for ever, changes and is hidden
Awhile. This region which thou seest, where all
The trees are lifeless, and the flowers are dead,
Is but the self-same earth on which erewhile
Thou sportedst fancy free.'
So, without fear
I wandered on this bare land, seeing far
Upon the sky the peaks of my own hills
And crests of my own woods. Till, when I grew
Hungered, ere yet another form I saw;
Along the silent alleys journeying,
And leafless groves; a fair and mystic tree
Rose like a heart in shape, and 'mid its leaves
One golden mystic fruit with a fair seed
Hid in it. This, with childish hand, I took
And ate, and straight I knew the tree was Life,
And the fruit Death, and the hid seed was Love.
Ah, sweet strange fruit! the which if any taste
They may no longer keep their lives of old
Or their own selves unchanged, but some weird change
And subtle alchemy comes which can transmute
The blood, and mould the spirits of gods and men
In some new magical form. Not as before,
Our life comes to us, though the passion cools,
No, never as before. My mother came
Too late to seek me. She had power to raise
A life from out Death's grasp, but from the arms
Of Love she might not take me, nor undo
Love's past for all her strength. She came and sought
With fires her daughter over land and sea,
Beyond the paths of all the setting stars,
In vain, and over all the earth in vain,
Seeking whom love disguised. Then on all lands
She cast the spell of barrenness; the wheat
Was blighted in the ear, the purple grapes
Blushed no more on the vines, and all the gods
Were sorrowful, seeing the load of ill
My rape had laid on men. Last, Zeus himself,
Pitying the evil that was done, sent forth
His messenger beyond the western rim
To fetch me back to earth.
But not the same
He found me who had eaten of Love's seed,
But changed into another; nor could his power
Prevail to keep me wholly on the earth,
Or make me maid again. The wintry life
Is homelier often than the summer blaze
Of happiness unclouded; so, when Spring
Comes on the world, I, coming, cross with thee,
Year after year, the cruel icy stream;
And leave this anxious sceptre and the shades
Of those in hell, or those for whom, though blest,
No Spring comes, till the last great Spring which brings
New heavens and new earth; and lay my head
Upon my mother's bosom, and grow young,
And am a girl again.
A soft air breathes
Across the stream and fills these barren fields
With the sweet odours of the earth. I know
Again the perfume of the violets
Which bloom on Ætna's side. Soon we shall pass
Together to our home, while round our feet
The crocus flames like gold, the wind-flowers white
Wave their soft petals on the breeze, and all
The choir of flowers lift up their silent song
To the unclouded heavens. Thou, fair boy,
Shalt lie within thy love's white arms again,
And I within my mother's. Sweet is Love
In ceasing and renewal; nay, in these
It lives and has its being. Thou couldst not keep
Thy youth as now, if always on the breast
Of love too late a lingerer thou hadst known
Possession sate thee. Nor might I have kept
My mother's heart, if I had lived to ripe
And wither on the stalk. Time calls and Change
Commands both men and gods, and speeds us on
We know not whither; but the old earth smiles
Spring after Spring, and the seed bursts again
Out of its prison mould, and the dead lives
Renew themselves, and rise aloft and soar
And are transformed, clothing themselves with change
Till the last change be done."
As thus she spake,
I saw a gleam of light flash from the eyes
Of all the listening shades, and a great joy
Thrill through the realms of Death.
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