LOVE AMONG THE RUINS. [Men and Women 1855.] WHERE the quiet-coloured end of evening smiles, On the solitary pastures where our sheep Tinkle homeward thro' the twilight, stray or stop Was the site once of a city great and gay, Of our country's very capital, its prince Held his court in, gathered councils, wielding far Now, the country does not even boast a tree,
As you see, To distinguish slopes of verdure, certain rills From the hills Intersect and give a name to, (else they run Into one) Where the domed and daring palace shot its spires Up like fires O'er the hundred-gated circuit of a wall Bounding all, Made of marble, men might march on nor be pressed, Twelve abreast. And such plenty and perfection, see, of grass Such a carpet as, this summer-time, o'erspreads Every vestige of the city, guessed alone, Where a multitude of men breathed joy and woe Lust of glory pricked their hearts up, dread of shame And that glory and that shame alike, the gold Now, the single little turret that remains By the caper overrooted, by the gourd While the patching houseleek's head of blossom winks Marks the basement whence a tower in ancient time And a burning ring, all round, the chariots traced And the monarch and his minions and his dames And I know, while thus the quiet-coloured eve To their folding, all our many-tinkling fleece And the slopes and rills in undistinguished grey That a girl with eager eyes and yellow hair In the turret whence the charioteers caught soul When the king looked, where she looks now, breathless, dumb Till I come. But he looked upon the city, every side, Far and wide, All the mountains topped with temples, all the glades' Colonnades, All the causeys, bridges, aqueducts,—and then, All the men! When I do come, she will speak not, she will stand, On my shoulder, give her eyes the first embrace Ere we rush, ere we extinguish sight and speech In one year they sent a million fighters forth. And they built their gods a brazen pillar high Yet reserved a thousand chariots in full force- Oh heart! oh blood that freezes, blood that burns! For whole centuries of folly, noise and sin! With their triumphs and their glories and the rest! TWO IN THE CAMPAGNA. [Men and Women 1855.] I WONDER do you feel to-day As I have felt since, hand in hand, For me, I touched a thought, I know, Mocking across our path) for rhymes Help me to hold it! First it left The yellowing fennel, run to seed There, branching from the brickwork's cleft, Some old tomb's ruin: yonder weed Took up the floating weft, Where one small orange cup amassed Everywhere on the grassy slope I traced it. Hold it fast! The champaign with its endless fleece Such life here, through such lengths of hours, Such primal naked forms of flowers, How say you? Let us, O my dove, To love or not to love? I would that you were all to me, You that are just so much, no more. Nor yours nor mine, nor slave nor free! Where does the fault lie? What the core O'the wound, since wound must be? I would I could adopt your will, See with your eyes, and set my heart At your soul's springs,—your part my part No. I yearn upward, touch you close, Already how am I so far Out of that minute? Must I go Onward, whenever light winds blow, Fixed by no friendly star? Just when I seemed about to learn! Infinite passion, and the pain. SAUL. [I—IX Dram. Rom. and Lyrics 1845; ganz: Men and Women 1855.] I. SAID Abner, "At last thou art come! Ere I tell, ere thou speak, "Kiss my cheek, wish me well!" Then I wished it, and did kiss his cheek. And he, "Since the King, O my friend, for thy coun tenance sent, "Neither drunken nor eaten have we; nor until from his tent |