Read Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50) Online
Authors: Homer,William Shakespeare
Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50) (273 page)
Thomas Edward Brown (1830–1897)
A GARDEN is a lovesome thing, God wot!
Rose plot,
Fringed pool,
Fern’d grot —
The veriest school
5
Of peace; and yet the fool
Contends that God is not —
Not God! in gardens! when the eve is cool?
Nay, but I have a sign;
’Tis very sure God walks in mine.
10
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
James Thomson (B. V.) (1834–1882)
GIVE a man a horse he can ride,
Give a man a boat he can sail;
And his rank and wealth, his strength and health,
On sea nor shore shall fail.
Give a man a pipe he can smoke,
5
Give a man a book he can read:
And his home is bright with a calm delight,
Though the room be poor indeed.
Give a man a girl he can love,
As I, O my love, love thee;
10
And his heart is great with the pulse of Fate,
At home, on land, on sea.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828–1882)
THE BLESSÈD Damozel lean’d out
From the gold bar of Heaven:
Her blue grave eyes were deeper much
Than a deep water, even.
She had three lilies in her hand,
5
And the stars in her hair were seven.
Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem,
No wrought flowers did adorn,
But a white rose of Mary’s gift
On the neck meetly worn;
10
And her hair, lying down her back,
Was yellow like ripe corn.
Herseem’d she scarce had been a day
One of God’s choristers;
The wonder was not yet quite gone
15
From that still look of hers;
Albeit, to them she left, her day
Had counted as ten years.
(To
one
it is ten years of years:
… Yet now, here in this place,
20
Surely she lean’d o’er me, — her hair
Fell all about my face…
Nothing: the Autumn-fall of leaves.
The whole year sets apace.)
It was the terrace of God’s house
25
That she was standing on, —
By God built over the sheer depth
In which Space is begun;
So high, that looking downward thence,
She scarce could see the sun.
30
It lies from Heaven across the flood
Of ether, as a bridge.
Beneath, the tides of day and night
With flame and darkness ridge
The void, as low as where this earth
35
Spins like a fretful midge.
But in those tracts, with her, it was
The peace of utter light
And silence. For no breeze may stir
Along the steady flight
40
Of seraphim; no echo there,
Beyond all depth or height.
Heard hardly, some of her new friends,
Playing at holy games,
Spake, gentle-mouth’d, among themselves,
45
Their virginal chaste names;
And the souls, mounting up to God,
Went by her like thin flames.
And still she bow’d herself, and stoop’d
Into the vast waste calm;
50
Till her bosom’s pressure must have made
The bar she lean’d on warm,
And the lilies lay as if asleep
Along her bended arm.
From the fixt lull of Heaven, she saw
55
Time, like a pulse, shake fierce
Through all the worlds. Her gaze still strove,
In that steep gulf, to pierce
The swarm; and then she spoke, as when
The stars sang in their spheres.
60
‘I wish that he were come to me,
For he will come,’ she said.
‘Have I not pray’d in solemn Heaven?
On earth, has he not pray’d?
Are not two prayers a perfect strength?
65
And shall I feel afraid?
‘When round his head the aureole clings,
And he is clothed in white,
I’ll take his hand, and go with him
To the deep wells of light,
70
And we will step down as to a stream
And bathe there in God’s sight.
‘We two will stand beside that shrine,
Occult, withheld, untrod,
Whose lamps tremble continually
75
With prayer sent up to God;
And where each need, reveal’d, expects
Its patient period.
‘We two will lie i’ the shadow of
That living mystic tree
80
Within whose secret growth the Dove
Sometimes is felt to be,
While every leaf that His plumes touch
Saith His name audibly.
‘And I myself will teach to him, —
85
I myself, lying so, —
The songs I sing here; which his mouth
Shall pause in, hush’d and slow,
Finding some knowledge at each pause,
And some new thing to know.’
90
(Alas! to
her
wise simple mind
These things were all but known
Before: they trembled on her sense, —
Her voice had caught their tone.
Alas for lonely Heaven! Alas
95
For life wrung out alone!
Alas, and though the end were reach’d?…
Was
thy
part understood
Or borne in trust? And for her sake
Shall this too be found good? —
100
May the close lips that knew not prayer
Praise ever, though they would?)
‘We two,’ she said, ‘will seek the groves
Where the lady Mary is,
With her five handmaidens, whose names
105
Are five sweet symphonies: —
Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen,
Margaret and Rosalys.
‘Circle-wise sit they, with bound locks
And bosoms coverèd;
110
Into the fine cloth, white like flame,
Weaving the golden thread,
To fashion the birth-robes for them
Who are just born, being dead.
‘He shall fear, haply, and be dumb.
115
Then I will lay my cheek
To his, and tell about our love,
Not once abash’d or weak:
And the dear Mother will approve
My pride, and let me speak.
120
‘Herself shall bring us, hand in hand,
To Him round whom all souls
Kneel — the unnumber’d solemn heads
Bow’d with their aureoles:
And Angels, meeting us, shall sing
125
To their citherns and citoles.
‘There will I ask of Christ the Lord
Thus much for him and me: —
To have more blessing than on earth
In nowise; but to be
130
As then we were, — being as then
At peace. Yea, verily.
‘Yea, verily; when he is come
We will do thus and thus:
Till this my vigil seem quite strange
135
And almost fabulous;
We two will live at once, one life;
And peace shall be with us.’
She gazed, and listen’d, and then said,
Less sad of speech than mild, —
140
‘All this is when he comes.’ She ceased:
The light thrill’d past her, fill’d
With Angels, in strong level lapse.
Her eyes pray’d, and she smiled.
(I saw her smile.) But soon their flight
145
Was vague ‘mid the poised spheres.
And then she cast her arms along
The golden barriers,
And laid her face between her hands,
And wept. (I heard her tears.)
150
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
James I of Scots. — 20th February, 1437
Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828–1882)
I CATHERINE am a Douglas born,
A name to all Scots dear;
And Kate Barlass they’ve called me now
Through many a waning year.
This old arm’s withered now. ’Twas once
5
Most deft ‘mong maidens all
To rein the steed, to wing the shaft,
To smite the palm-play ball.
In hall adown the close-linked dance
It has shone most white and fair;
10
It has been the rest for a true lord’s head,
And many a sweet babe’s nursing-bed,
And the bar to a King’s chambère.
Aye, lasses, draw round Kate Barlass,
And hark with bated breath
15
How good King James, King Robert’s son,
Was foully done to death.
Through all the days of his gallant youth
The princely James was pent,
By his friends at first and then by his foes,
20
In long imprisonment.
For the elder Prince, the kingdom’s heir,
By treason’s murderous brood
Was slain; and the father quaked for the child
With the royal mortal blood.
25
I’ the Bass Rock fort, by his father’s care,
Was his childhood’s life assured;
And Henry the subtle Bolingbroke,
Proud England’s King, ‘neath the southron yoke
His youth for long years immured.
30
Yet in all things meet for a kingly man
Himself did he approve;
And the nightingale through his prison-wall
Taught him both lore and love.
For once, when the bird’s song drew him close
35
To the opened window-pane,
In her bowers beneath a lady stood,
A light of life to his sorrowful mood,
Like a lily amid the rain.
And for her sake, to the sweet bird’s note,
40
He framed a sweeter Song,
More sweet than ever a poet’s heart
Gave yet to the English tongue.
She was a lady of royal blood;
And when, past sorrow and teen,
45
He stood where still through his crownless years
His Scottish realm had been,
At Scone were the happy lovers crowned,
A heart-wed King and Queen.
But the bird may fall from the bough of youth,
50
And song be turned to moan,
And Love’s storm-cloud be the shadow of Hate,
When the tempest-waves of a troubled State
Are beating against a throne.
Yet well they loved; and the god of Love,
55
Whom well the King had sung,
Might find on the earth no truer hearts
His lowliest swains among.
From the days when first she rode abroad
With Scottish maids in her train,
60
I Catherine Douglas won the trust
Of my mistress, sweet Queen Jane.
And oft she sighed, “To be born a King!”
And oft along the way
When she saw the homely lovers pass
65
She has said, “Alack the day!”
Years waned, — the loving and toiling years:
Till England’s wrong renewed
Drove James, by outrage cast on his crown,
To the open field of feud.
70
’Twas when the King and his host were met
At the leaguer of Roxbro’ hold,
The Queen o’ the sudden sought his camp
With a tale of dread to be told.
And she showed him a secret letter writ
75
That spoke of treasonous strife,
And how a band of his noblest lords
Were sworn to take his life.
“And it may be here or it may be there,
In the camp or the court,” she said:
80
“But for my sake come to your people’s arms
And guard your royal head.”
Quoth he, “’Tis the fifteenth day of the siege,
And the castle’s nigh to yield.”
“O face your foes on your throne,” she cried,
85
“And show the power you wield;
And under your Scottish people’s love
You shall sit as under your shield.”
At the fair Queen’s side I stood that day
When he bade them raise the siege,
90
And back to his Court he sped to know
How the lords would meet their Liege.
But when he summoned his Parliament,
The louring brows hung round,
Like clouds that circle the mountain-head
95
Ere the first low thunders sound.
For he had tamed the nobles’ lust
And curbed their power and pride,
And reached out an arm to right the poor
Through Scotland far and wide;
100
And many a lordly wrong-doer
By the headsman’s axe had died.
’Twas then upspoke Sir Robert Græme,
The bold o’ermastering man: —
“O King, in the name of your Three Estates
105
I set you under their ban!
“For, as your lords made oath to you
Of service and fealty,
Even in likewise you pledged your oath
Their faithful sire to be: —
110
“Yet all we here that are nobly sprung
Have mourned dear kith and kin
Since first for the Scottish Barons’ curse
Did your bloody rule begin.”
With that he laid his hands on his King: —
115
“Is this not so, my lords?”
But of all who had sworn to league with him
Not one spake back to his words.
Quoth the King:— “Thou speak’st but for one Estate,
Nor doth it avow thy gage.
120
Let my liege lords hale this traitor hence!”
The Græme fired dark with rage: —
“Who works for lesser men than himself,
He earns but a witless wage!”
But soon from the dungeon where he lay
125
He won by privy plots,
And forth he fled with a price on his head
To the country of the Wild Scots.
And word there came from Sir Robert Græme
To the King at Edinbro’: —
130
“No Liege of mine thou art; but I see
From this day forth alone in thee
God’s creature, my mortal foe.
“Through thee are my wife and children lost,
My heritage and lands;
135
And when my God shall show me a way,
Thyself my mortal foe will I slay
With these my proper hands.”
Against the coming of Christmastide
That year the King bade call
140
I’ the Black Friars’ Charterhouse of Perth
A solemn festival.
And we of his household rode with him
In a close-ranked company;
But not till the sun had sunk from his throne
145
Did we reach the Scottish Sea.
That eve was clenched for a boding storm,
‘Neath a toilsome moon half seen;
The cloud stooped low and the surf rose high;
And where there was a line of the sky,
150
Wild wings loomed dark between.
And on a rock of the black beach-side,
By the veiled moon dimly lit,
There was something seemed to heave with life
As the King drew nigh to it.
155
And was it only the tossing furze
Or brake of the waste sea-wold?
Or was it an eagle bent to the blast?
When near we came, we knew it at last
For a woman tattered and old.
160
But it seemed as though by a fire within
Her writhen limbs were wrung;
And as soon as the King was close to her,
She stood up gaunt and strong.
’Twas then the moon sailed clear of the rack
165
On high in her hollow dome;
And still as aloft with hoary crest
Each clamorous wave rang home,
Like fire in snow the moonlight blazed
Amid the champing foam.
170
And the woman held his eyes with her eyes: —
“O King, thou art come at last;
But thy wraith has haunted the Scottish Sea
To my sight for four years past.
“Four years it is since first I met,
175
‘Twixt the Duchray and the Dhu,
A shape whose feet clung close in a shroud,
And that shape for thine I knew.
“A year again, and on Inchkeith Isle
I saw thee pass in the breeze,
180
With the cerecloth risen above thy feet
And wound about thy knees.
“And yet a year, in the Links of Forth,
As a wanderer without rest,
Thou cam’st with both thine arms i’ the shroud
185
That clung high up thy breast.
“And in this hour I find thee here,
And well mine eyes may note
That the winding-sheet hath passed thy breast
And risen around thy throat.
190
“And when I meet thee again, O King,
That of death hast such sore drouth, —
Except thou turn again on this shore, —
The winding-sheet shall have moved once more
And covered thine eyes and mouth.
195
“O King, whom poor men bless for their King,
Of thy fate be not so fain;
But these my words for God’s message take,
And turn thy steed, O King, for her sake
Who rides beside thy rein!”
200
While the woman spoke, the King’s horse reared
As if it would breast the sea,
And the Queen turned pale as she heard on the gale
The voice die dolorously.
When the woman ceased, the steed was still,
205
But the King gazed on her yet,
And in silence save for the wail of the sea
His eyes and her eyes met.
At last he said:— “God’s ways are His own;
Man is but shadow and dust.
210
Last night I prayed by His altar-stone;
To-night I wend to the feast of His Son;
And in Him I set my trust.
“I have held my people in sacred charge,
And have not feared the sting
215
Of proud men’s hate, — to His will resign’d
Who has but one same death for a hind
And one same death for a King.
