An Epic of Women, and Other Poems by Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy - HTML preview

PLEASE NOTE: This is an HTML preview only and some elements such as links or page numbers may be incorrect.
Download the book in PDF, ePub, Kindle for a complete version.

 

BISCLAVARET.

 

Bisclaveret ad nun en Bretan,

Garwall l’apelent li Norman.

Jadis le poët-hum oïr,

E souvent suleit avenir,

Humes plusurs Garwall devindrent

E es boscages meisun tindrent.

MARIE DE FRANCE: LAIS.

 

 

IN either mood, to bless or curse,

God bringeth forth the breath of man;

No angel sire, no woman nurse

Shall change the work that God began:

 

One spirit shall be like a star,

He shall delight to honour one;

Another spirit he shall mar;

None shall undo what God hath done.

 

The weaker holier season wanes;

Night comes with darkness and with sins;

And, in all forests, hills, and plains,

A keener, fiercer life begins.

 

And, sitting by the low hearth fires,

I start and shiver fearfully;

For thoughts all strange and new desires

Of distant things take hold on me;

 

And many a feint of touch or sound

Assails me, and my senses leap

As in pursuit of false things found

And lost in some dim path of sleep.

 

But, momently, there seems restored

A triple strength of life and pain;

I thrill, as though a wine were poured

Upon the pore of every vein:

 

I burn—as though keen wine were shed

On all the sunken flames of sense—

Yea, till the red flame grows more red,

And all the burning more intense,

 

And, sloughing weaker lives grown wan

With needs of sleep and weariness,

I quit the hallowed haunts of man

And seek the mighty wilderness.

 

—Now over intervening waste

Of lowland drear, and barren wold,

I scour, and ne’er assuage my haste,

Inflamed with yearnings manifold;

 

Drinking a distant sound that seems

To come around me like a flood;

While all the track of moonlight gleams

Before me like a streak of blood;

 

And bitter stifling scents are past

A-dying on the night behind,

And sudden piercing stings are cast

Against me in the tainted wind.

 

And lo, afar, the gradual stir,

And rising of the stray wild leaves;

The swaying pine, and shivering fir,

And windy sound that moans and heaves

 

In first fits, till with utter throes

The whole wild forest lolls about:

And all the fiercer clamour grows,

And all the moan becomes a shout;

 

And mountains near and mountains far

Breathe freely: and the mingled roar

Is as of floods beneath some star

Of storms, when shore cries unto shore.

 

But soon, from every hidden lair

Beyond the forest tracts, in thick

Wild coverts, or in deserts bare,

Behold They come—renewed and quick—

 

The splendid fearful herds that stray

By midnight, when tempestuous moons

Light them to many a shadowy prey,

And earth beneath the thunder swoons.

 

—O who at any time hath seen

Sight all so fearful and so fair,

Unstricken at his heart with keen

Whole envy in that hour to share

 

Their unknown curse and all the strength

Of the wild thirsts and lusts they know,

The sharp joys sating them at length,

The new and greater lusts that grow?

 

But who of mortals shall rehearse

How fair and dreadfully they stand,

Each marked with an eternal curse,

Alien from every kin and land?

 

—Along the bright and blasted heights

Loudly their cloven footsteps ring!

Full on their fronts the lightning smites,

And falls like some dazed baffled thing.

 

Now through the mountain clouds they break,

With many a crest high-antlered, reared

Athwart the storm: now they outshake

Fierce locks or manes, glossy and weird,

 

That sweep with sharp perpetual sound

The arid heights where the snows drift,

And drag the slain pines to the ground,

And all into the whirlwind lift

 

The heavy sinking slopes of shade

From hidden hills of monstrous girth,

Till new unearthly lights have flayed

The draping darkness from the earth.

 

Henceforth what hiding-place shall hide

All hallowed spirits that in form

Of mortal stand beneath the wide

And wandering pale eye of the storm?

 

The beadsman in his lonely cell

Hath cast one boding timorous look

Toward the heights; then loud and well,

—Kneeling before the open book—

 

All night he prayeth in one breath,

Nor spareth now his sins to own:

And through his prayer he shuddereth

To hear how loud the forests groan.

 

For all abroad the lightnings reign,

And rally, with their lurid spell,

The multitudinous campaign

Of hosts not yet made fast in hell:

 

And us indeed no common arm,

Nor magic of the dark may smite,

But, through all elements of harm,

Across the strange fields of the night—

 

Enrolled with the whole giant host

Of shadowy, cloud-outstripping things

Whose vengeful spells are uppermost,

And convoyed by unmeasured wings,

 

We foil the thin dust of fatigue

With bright-shod phantom feet that dare

All pathless places and the league

Of the light shifting soils of air;

 

And loud, mid fearful echoings,

Our throats, aroused with hell’s own thirst,

Outbay the eternal trumpetings;

The while, all impious and accurst,

 

Revealed and perfected at length

In whole and dire transfigurement,

With miracle of growing strength

We win upon a keen warm scent.

 

Before us each cloud fastness breaks;

And o’er slant inward wastes of light,

And past the moving mirage lakes,

And on within the Lord’s own sight—

 

We hunt the chosen of the Lord;

And cease not, in wild course elate,

Until we see the flaming sword

And Gabriel before His gate!

 

O many a fair and noble prey

Falls bitterly beneath our chase;

And no man till the judgment day,

Hath power to give these burial place;

 

But down in many a stricken home

About the world, for these they mourn;

And seek them yet through Christendom

In all the lands where they were born.

 

And oft, when Hell’s dread prevalence

Is past, and once more to the earth

In chains of narrowed human sense

We turn,—around our place of birth,

 

We hear the new and piercing wail;

And, through the haunted day’s long glare,

In fearful lassitudes turn pale

With thought of all the curse we bear.

 

But, for long seasons of the moon,

When the whole giant earth, stretched low,

Seems straightening in a silent swoon

Beneath the close grip of the snow,

 

We well nigh cheat the hideous spells

That force our souls resistless back,

With languorous torments worse than hell’s

To the frail body’s fleshly rack:

 

And with our brotherhood the storms,

Whose mighty revelry unchains

The avalanches, and deforms

The ancient mountains and the plains,—

 

We hold high orgies of the things,

Strange and accursèd of all flesh,

Whereto the quick sense ever brings

The sharp forbidden thrill afresh.

 

And far away, among our kin,

Already they account our place

With all the slain ones, and begin

The Masses for our soul’s full grace.