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George Meredith
Poems. Volume 2
BALLADS AND POEMS OF TRAGIC LIFE
THE TWO MASKS
I
Melpomene among her livid people,
Ere stroke of lyre, upon Thaleia looks,
Warned by old contests that one museful ripple
Along those lips of rose with tendril hooks
Forebodes disturbance in the springs of pathos,
Perchance may change of masks midway demand,
Albeit the man rise mountainous as Athos,
The woman wild as Cape Leucadia stand.
II
For this the Comic Muse exacts of creatures
Appealing to the fount of tears: that they
Strive never to outleap our human features,
And do Right Reason’s ordinance obey,
In peril of the hum to laughter nighest.
But prove they under stress of action’s fire
Nobleness, to that test of Reason highest,
She bows: she waves them for the loftier lyre.
ARCHDUCHESS ANNE
I
I
In middle age an evil thing
Befell Archduchess Anne:
She looked outside her wedding-ring
Upon a princely man.
II
Count Louis was for horse and arms;
And if its beacon waved,
For love; but ladies had not charms
To match a danger braved.
III
On battlefields he was the bow
Bestrung to fly the shaft:
In idle hours his heart would flow
As winds on currents waft.
IV
His blood was of those warrior tribes
That streamed from morning’s fire,
Whom now with traps and now with bribes
The wily Council wire.
V
Archduchess Anne the Council ruled,
Count Louis his great dame;
And woe to both when one had cooled!
Little was she to blame.
VI
Among her chiefs who spun their plots,
Old Kraken stood the sword:
As sharp his wits for cutting knots
Of babble he abhorred.
VII
He reverenced her name and line,
Nor other merit had
Save soldierwise to wait her sign,
And do the deed she bade.
VIII
He saw her hand jump at her side
Ere royally she smiled
On Louis and his fair young bride
Where courtly ranks defiled.
IX
That was a moment when a shock
Through the procession ran,
And thrilled the plumes, and stayed the clock,
Yet smiled Archduchess Anne.
X
No touch gave she to hound in leash,
No wink to sword in sheath:
She seemed a woman scarce of flesh;
Above it, or beneath.
XI
Old Kraken spied with kennelled snarl,
His Lady deemed disgraced.
He footed as on burning marl,
When out of Hall he paced.
XII
’Twas seen he hammered striding legs,
And stopped, and strode again.
Now Vengeance has a brood of eggs,
But Patience must be hen.
XIII
Too slow are they for wrath to hatch,
Too hot for time to rear.
Old Kraken kept unwinding watch;
He marked his day appear.
XIV
He neighed a laugh, though moods were rough
With standards in revolt:
His nostrils took the news for snuff,
His smacking lips for salt.
XV
Count Louis’ wavy cock’s plumes led
His troops of black-haired manes,
A rebel; and old Kraken sped
To front him on the plains.
XVI
Then camp opposed to camp did they
Fret earth with panther claws
For signal of a bloody day,
Each reading from the Laws.
XVII
‘Forefend it, heaven!’ Count Louis cried,
‘And let the righteous plead:
My country is a willing bride,
Was never slave decreed.
XVIII
‘Not we for thirst of blood appeal
To sword and slaughter curst;
We have God’s blessing on our steel,
Do we our pleading first.’
XIX
Count Louis, soul of chivalry,
Put trust in plighted word;
By starlight on the broad brown lea,
To bar the strife he spurred.
XX
Across his breast a crimson spot,
That in a quiver glowed,
The ruddy crested camp-fires shot,
As he to darkness rode.
XXI
He rode while omens called, beware
Old Kraken’s pledge of faith!
A smile and waving hand in air,
And outward flew the wraith.
XXII
Before pale morn had mixed with gold,
His army roared, and chilled,
As men who have a woe foretold,
And see it red fulfilled.
XXIII
Away and to his young wife speed,
And say that Honour’s dead!
Another word she will not need
To bow a widow’s head.
XXIV
Old Kraken roped his white moustache
Right, left, for savage glee:
—To swing him in his soldier’s sash
Were kind for such as he!
XXV
Old Kraken’s look hard Winter wears
When sweeps the wild snow-blast:
He had the hug of Arctic bears
For captives he held fast.
II
I
Archduchess Anne sat carved in frost,
Shut off from priest and spouse.
Her lips were locked, her arms were crossed,
Her eyes were in her brows.
II
One hand enclosed a paper scroll,
Held as a strangled asp.
So may we see the woman’s soul
In her dire tempter’s grasp.
III
Along that scroll Count Louis’ doom
Throbbed till the letters flamed.
She saw him in his scornful bloom,
She saw him chained and shamed.
IV
Around that scroll Count Louis’ fate
Was acted to her stare,
And hate in love and love in hate
Fought fell to smite or spare.
V
Between the day that struck her old,
And this black star of days,
Her heart swung like a storm-bell tolled
Above a town ablaze.
VI
His beauty pressed to intercede,
His beauty served him ill.
—Not Vengeance, ’tis his rebel’s deed,
’Tis Justice, not our will!
VII
Yet who had sprung to life’s full force
A breast that loveless dried?
But who had sapped it at the source,
With scarlet to her pride!
VIII
He brought her waning heart as ’twere
New message from the skies.
And he betrayed, and left on her
The burden of their sighs.
IX
In floods her tender memories poured;
They foamed with waves of spite:
She crushed them, high her heart outsoared,
To keep her mind alight.
X
—The crawling creature, called in scorn
A woman!—with this pen
We sign a paper that may warn
His crowing fellowmen.
XI
—We read them lesson of a power
They slight who do us wrong.
That bitter hour this bitter hour
Provokes; by turns the strong!
XII
—That we were woman once is known:
That we are Justice now,
Above our sex, above the throne,
Men quaking shall avow.
XIII
Archduchess Anne ascending flew,
Her heart outsoared, but felt
The demon of her sex pursue,
Incensing or to melt.
XIV
Those counterfloods below at leap
Still in her breast blew storm,
And farther up the heavenly steep
Wrestled in angels’ form.
XV
To disentangle one clear wish
Not of her sex, she sought;
And womanish to womanish
Discerned in lighted thought.
XVI
With Louis’ chance it went not well
When at herself she raged;
A woman, of whom men might tell
She doted, crazed and aged.
XVII
Or else enamoured of a sweet
Withdrawn, a vengeful crone!
And say, what figure at her feet
Is this that utters moan?
XVIII
The Countess Louis from her head
Drew veil: ‘Great Lady, hear!
My husband deems you Justice dread,
I know you Mercy dear.
XIX
‘His error upon him may fall;
He will not breathe a nay.
I am his helpless mate in all,
Except for grace to pray.
XX
‘Perchance on me his choice inclined,
To give his House an heir:
I had not marriage with his mind,
His counsel could not share.
XXI
‘I brought no portion for his weal
But this one instinct true,
Which bids me in my weakness kneel,
Archduchess Anne, to you.’
XXII
The frowning Lady uttered, ‘Forth!’
Her look forbade delay:
‘It is not mine to weigh your worth;
Your husband’s others weigh.
XXIII
‘Hence with the woman in your speech,’
For nothing it avails
In woman’s fashion to beseech
Where Justice holds the scales.’
XXIV
Then bent and went the lady wan,
Whose girlishness made grey
The thoughts that through Archduchess Anne
Shattered like stormy spray.
XXV
Long sat she there, as flame that strives
To hold on beating wind:
—His wife must be the fool of wives,
Or cunningly designed!
XXVI
She sat until the tempest-pitch
In her torn bosom fell;
—His wife must be a subtle witch
Or else God loves her well!
III
I
Old Kraken read a missive penned
By his great Lady’s hand.
Her condescension called him friend,
To raise the crest she fanned.
II
Swiftly to where he lay encamped
It flew, yet breathed aloof
From woman’s feeling, and he stamped
A heel more like a hoof.
III
She wrote of Mercy: ‘She was loth
Too hard to goad a foe.’
He stamped, as when men drive an oath
Devils transcribe below.
IV
She wrote: ‘We have him half by theft.’
His wrinkles glistened keen:
And see the Winter storm-cloud cleft
To lurid skies between!
V
When read old Kraken: ‘Christ our Guide,’
His eyes were spikes of spar:
And see the white snow-storm divide
About an icy star!
VI
‘She trusted him to understand,’
She wrote, and further prayed
That policy might rule the land.
Old Kraken’s laughter neighed.
VII
Her words he took; her nods and winks
Treated as woman’s fog.
The man-dog for his mistress thinks,
Not less her faithful dog.
VIII
She hugged a cloak old Kraken ripped;
Disguise to him he loathed.
—Your mercy, madam, shows you stripped,
While mine will keep you clothed.
IX
A rough ill-soldered scar in haste
He rubbed on his cheek-bone.
—Our policy the man shall taste;
Our mercy shall be shown.
X
‘Count Louis, honour to your race
Decrees the Council-hall:
You ’scape the rope by special grace,
And like a soldier fall.’
XI
—I am a man of many sins,
Who for one virtue die,
Count Louis said.—They play at shins,
Who kick, was the reply.
XII
Uprose the day of crimson sight,
The day without a God.
At morn the hero said Good-night:
See there that stain on sod!
XIII
At morn the Countess Louis heard
Young light sing in the lark.
Ere eve it was that other bird,
Which brings the starless dark.
XIV
To heaven she vowed herself, and yearned
Beside her lord to lie.
Archduchess Anne on Kraken turned,
All white as a dead eye.
XV
If I could kill thee! shrieked her look:
If lightning sprang from Will!
An oaken head old Kraken shook,
And she might thank or kill.
XVI
The pride that fenced her heart in mail
By mortal pain was torn.
Forth from her bosom leaped a wail,
As of a babe new-born.
XVII
She clad herself in courtly use,
And one who heard them prate
Had said they differed upon views
Where statecraft raised debate.
XVIII
The wretch detested must she trust,
The servant master own:
Confide to godless cause so just,
And for God’s blessing moan.
XIX
Austerely she her heart kept down,
Her woman’s tongue was mute
When voice of People, voice of Crown,
In cannon held dispute.
XX
The Crown on seas of blood, like swine,
Swam forefoot at the throat:
It drank of its dear veins for wine,
Enough if it might float!
XXI
It sank with piteous yelp, resurged
Electrical with fear.
O had she on old Kraken urged
Her word of mercy clear!
XXII
O had they with Count Louis been
Accordant in his plea!
Cursed are the women vowed to screen
A heart that all can see!
XXIII
The godless drove unto a goal
Was worse than vile defeat.
Did vengeance prick Count Louis’ soul
They dressed him luscious meat.
XXIV
Worms will the faithless find their lies
In the close treasure-chest.
Without a God no day can rise,
Though it should slay our best.
XXV
The Crown it furled a draggled flag,
It sheathed a broken blade.
Behold its triumph in the hag
That lives with looks decayed!
XXVI
And lo, the man of oaken head,
Of soldier’s honour bare,
He fled his land, but most he fled
His Lady’s frigid stare.
XXVII
Judged by the issue we discern
God’s blessing, and the bane.
Count Louis’ dust would fill an urn,
His deeds are waving grain.
XXVIII
And she that helped to slay, yet bade
To spare the fated man,
Great were her errors, but she had
Great heart, Archduchess Anne.
THE SONG OF THEODOLINDA
I
Queen Theodolind has built
In the earth a furnace-bed:
There the Traitor Nail that spilt
Blood of the anointed Head,
Red of heat, resolves in shame:
White of heat, awakes to flame.
Beat, beat! white of heat,
Red of heat, beat, beat!
II
Mark the skeleton of fire
Lightening from its thunder-roof:
So comes this that saw expire
Him we love, for our behoof!
Red of heat, O white of heat,
This from off the Cross we greet.
III
Brown-cowled hammermen around
Nerve their naked arms to strike
Death with Resurrection crowned,
Each upon that cruel spike.
Red of heat the furnace leaps,
White of heat transfigured sleeps.
IV
Hard against the furnace core
Holds the Queen her streaming eyes:
Lo! that thing of piteous gore
In the lap of radiance lies,
Red of heat, as when He takes,
White of heat, whom earth forsakes.
V
Forth with it, and crushing ring
Iron hymns, for men to hear
Echoes of the deeds that sting
Earth into its graves, and fear!
Red of heat, He maketh thus,
White of heat, a crown of us.
VI
This that killed Thee, kissed Thee, Lord!
Touched Thee, and we touch it: dear,
Dark it is; adored, abhorred:
Vilest, yet most sainted here.
Red of heat, O white of heat,
In it hell and heaven meet.
VII
I behold our morning day
When they chased Him out with rods
Up to where this traitor lay
Thirsting; and the blood was God’s!
Red of heat, it shall be pressed,
White of heat, once on my breast!
VIII
Quick! the reptile in me shrieks,
Not the soul. Again; the Cross
Burn there. Oh! this pain it wreaks
Rapture is: pain is not loss.
Red of heat, the tooth of Death,
White of heat, has caught my breath.
IX
Brand me, bite me, bitter thing!
Thus He felt, and thus I am
One with Him in suffering,
One with Him in bliss, the Lamb.
Red of heat, O white of heat,
Thus is bitterness made sweet.
X
Now am I, who bear that stamp
Scorched in me, the living sign
Sole on earth—the lighted lamp
Of the dreadful Day divine.
White of heat, beat on it fast!
Red of heat, its shape has passed.
XI
Out in angry sparks they fly,
They that sentenced Him to bleed:
Pontius and his troop: they die,
Damned for ever for the deed!
White of heat in vain they soar:
Red of heat they strew the floor.
XII
Fury on it! have its debt!
Thunder on the Hill accurst,
Golgotha, be ye! and sweat
Blood, and thirst the Passion’s thirst.
Red of heat and white of heat,
Champ it like fierce teeth that eat.
XIII
Strike it as the ages crush
Towers! for while a shape is seen
I am rivalled. Quench its blush,
Devil! But it crowns me Queen,
Red of heat, as none before,
White of heat, the circlet wore.
XIV
Lowly I will be, and quail,
Crawling, with a beggar’s hand:
On my breast the branded Nail,
On my head the iron band.
Red of heat, are none so base!
White of heat, none know such grace!
XV
In their heaven the sainted hosts,
Robed in violet unflecked,
Gaze on humankind as ghosts:
I draw down a ray direct.
Red of heat, across my brow,
White of heat, I touch Him now.
XVI
Robed in violet, robed in gold,
Robed in pearl, they make our dawn.
What am I to them? Behold
What ye are to me, and fawn.
Red of heat, be humble, ye!
White of heat, O teach it me!
XVII
Martyrs! hungry peaks in air,
Rent with lightnings, clad with snow,
Crowned with stars! you strip me bare,
Pierce me, shame me, stretch me low,
Red of heat, but it may be,
White of heat, some envy me!
XVIII
O poor enviers! God’s own gifts
Have a devil for the weak.
Yea, the very force that lifts
Finds the vessel’s secret leak.
Red of heat, I rise o’er all:
White of heat, I faint, I fall.
XIX
Those old Martyrs sloughed their pride,
Taking humbleness like mirth.
I am to His Glory tied,
I that witness Him on earth!
Red of heat, my pride of dust,
White of heat, feeds fire in trust.
XX
Kindle me to constant fire,
Lest the nail be but a nail!
Give me wings of great desire,
Lest I look within, and fail!
Red of heat, the furnace light,
White of heat, fix on my sight.
XXI
Never for the Chosen peace!
Know, by me tormented know,
Never shall the wrestling cease
Till with our outlasting Foe,
Red of heat to white of heat,
Roll we to the Godhead’s feet!
Beat, beat! white of heat,
Red of heat, beat, beat!
A PREACHING FROM A SPANISH BALLAD
I
Ladies who in chains of wedlock
Chafe at an unequal yoke,
Not to nightingales give hearing;
Better this, the raven’s croak.
II
Down the Prado strolled my seigneur,
Arm at lordly bow on hip,
Fingers trimming his moustachios,
Eyes for pirate fellowship.
III
Home sat she that owned him master;
Like the flower bent to ground
Rain-surcharged and sun-forsaken;
Heedless of her hair unbound.
IV
Sudden at her feet a lover
Palpitating knelt and wooed;
Seemed a very gift from heaven
To the starved of common food.
V
Love me? she his vows repeated:
Fiery vows oft sung and thrummed:
Wondered, as on earth a stranger;
Thirsted, trusted, and succumbed.
VI
O beloved youth! my lover!
Mine! my lover! take my life
Wholly: thine in soul and body,
By this oath of more than wife!
VII
Know me for no helpless woman;
Nay, nor coward, though I sink
Awed beside thee, like an infant
Learning shame ere it can think.
VIII
Swing me hence to do thee service,
Be thy succour, prove thy shield;
Heaven will hear!—in house thy handmaid,
Squire upon the battlefield.
IX
At my breasts I cool thy footsoles;
Wine I pour, I dress thy meats;
Humbly, when my lord it pleaseth,
Lie with him on perfumed sheets:
X
Pray for him, my blood’s dear fountain,
While he sleeps, and watch his yawn
In that wakening babelike moment,
Sweeter to my thought than dawn!—
XI
Thundered then her lord of thunders;
Burst the door, and, flashing sword,
Loud disgorged the woman’s title:
Condemnation in one word.
XII
Grand by righteous wrath transfigured,
Towers the husband who provides
In his person judge and witness,
Death’s black doorkeeper besides!
XIII
Round his head the ancient terrors,
Conjured of the stronger’s law,
Circle, to abash the creature
Daring twist beneath his paw.
XIV
How though he hath squandered Honour
High of Honour let him scold:
Gilding of the man’s possession,
’Tis the woman’s coin of gold.
XV
She inheriting from many
Bleeding mothers bleeding sense
Feels ’twixt her and sharp-fanged nature
Honour first did plant the fence.
XVI
Nature, that so shrieks for justice;
Honour’s thirst, that blood will slake;
These are women’s riddles, roughly
Mixed to write them saint or snake.
XVII
Never nature cherished woman:
She throughout the sexes’ war
Serves as temptress and betrayer,
Favouring man, the muscular.
XVIII
Lureful is she, bent for folly;
Doating on the child which crows:
Yours to teach him grace in fealty,
What the bloom is, what the rose.
XIX
Hard the task: your prison-chamber
Widens not for lifted latch
Till the giant thews and sinews
Meet their Godlike overmatch.
XX
Read that riddle, scorning pity’s
Tears, of cockatrices shed:
When the heart is vowed for freedom,
Captaincy it yields to head.
XXI
Meanwhile you, freaked nature’s martyrs,
Honour’s army, flower and weed,
Gentle ladies, wedded ladies,
See for you this fair one bleed.
XXII
Sole stood her offence, she faltered;
Prayed her lord the youth to spare;
Prayed that in the orange garden
She might lie, and ceased her prayer.
XXIII
Then commanding to all women
Chastity, her breasts she laid
Bare unto the self-avenger.
Man in metal was the blade.
THE YOUNG PRINCESS
A BALLAD OF OLD LAWS OF LOVE
I
I
When the South sang like a nightingale
Above a bower in May,
The training of Love’s vine of flame
Was writ in laws, for lord and dame
To say their yea and nay.
II
When the South sang like a nightingale
Across the flowering night,
And lord and dame held gentle sport,
There came a young princess to Court,
A frost of beauty white.
III
The South sang like a nightingale
To thaw her glittering dream:
No vine of Love her bosom gave,
She drank no wine of Love, but grave
She held them to Love’s theme.
IV
The South grew all a nightingale
Beneath a moon unmoved:
Like the banner of war she led them on;
She left them to lie, like the light that has gone
From wine-cups overproved.
V
When the South was a fervid nightingale,
And she a chilling moon,
’Twas pity to see on the garden swards,
Against Love’s laws, those rival lords
As willow-wands lie strewn.
VI
The South had throat of a nightingale
For her, the young princess:
She gave no vine of Love to rear,
Love’s wine drank not, yet bent her ear
To themes of Love no less.
II
I
The lords of the Court they sighed heart-sick,
Heart-free Lord Dusiote laughed:
I prize her no more than a fling o’ the dice,
But, or shame to my manhood, a lady of ice,
We master her by craft!
II
Heart-sick the lords of joyance yawned,
Lord Dusiote laughed heart-free:
I count her as much as a crack o’ my thumb,
But, or shame of my manhood, to me she shall come
Like the bird to roost in the tree!
III
At dead of night when the palace-guard
Had passed the measured rounds,
The young princess awoke to feel
A shudder of blood at the crackle of steel
Within the garden-bounds.
IV
It ceased, and she thought of whom was need,
The friar or the leech;
When lo, stood her tirewoman breathless by:
Lord Dusiote, madam, to death is nigh,
Of you he would have speech.
V
He prays you of your gentleness,
To light him to his dark end.
The princess rose, and forth she went,
For charity was her intent,
Devoutly to befriend.
VI
Lord Dusiote hung on his good squire’s arm,
The priest beside him knelt:
A weeping handkerchief was pressed
To stay the red flood at his breast,
And bid cold ladies melt.
VII
O lady, though you are ice to men,
All pure to heaven as light
Within the dew within the flower,
Of you ’tis whispered that love has power
When secret is the night.
VIII
I have silenced the slanderers, peace to their souls!
Save one was too cunning for me.
I die, whose love is late avowed,
He lives, who boasts the lily has bowed
To the oath of a bended knee.
IX
Lord Dusiote drew breath with pain,
And she with pain drew breath:
On him she looked, on his like above;
She flew in the folds of a marvel of love
Revealed to pass to death.
X
You are dying, O great-hearted lord,
You are dying for me, she cried;
O take my hand, O take my kiss,
And take of your right for love like this,
The vow that plights me bride.
XI
She bade the priest recite his words
While hand in hand were they,
Lord Dusiote’s soul to waft to bliss;
He had her hand, her vow, her kiss,
And his body was borne away.
