NEW POEMS

ECLOGUE I

THE MONTHS

_BASIL AND EDWARD_

Man hath with man on earth no holier bond Than that the Muse weaves with her dreamy thread: Nor e'er was such transcendent love more fond Than that which Edward unto Basil led, Wandering alone across the woody shires To hear the living voice of that wide heart, To see the eyes that read the world's desires, And touch the hand that wrote the roving rhyme.

Diverse their lots as distant were their homes, And since that early meeting, jealous Time Knitting their loves had held their lives apart.

But now again were these fine lovers met And sat together on a rocky hill Looking upon the vales of Somerset, Where the far sea gleam'd o'er the bosky combes, Satisfying their spirits the livelong day With various mirth and revelation due And delicate intimacy of delight, As there in happy indolence they lay And drank the sun, while round the breezy height Beneath their feet rabbit and listless ewe Nibbled the scented herb and gra.s.s at will.

Much talked they at their ease; and at the last Spoke Edward thus, ''Twas on this very hill This time of the year,--but now twelve years are past,-- That you provoked in verse my younger skill To praise the months against your rival song; And ere the sun had westered ten degrees Our rhyme had brought him thro' the Zodiac.

Have you remembered?'--Basil answer'd back, 'Guest of my solace, how could I forget?

Years fly as months that seem'd in youth so long.

The precious life that, like indifferent gold, Is disregarded in its worth to hold Some jewel of love that G.o.d therein would set, It pa.s.seth and is gone.'--'And yet not all,'

Edward replied: 'The pa.s.sion as I please Of that past day I can to-day recall; And if but you, as I, remember yet Your part thereof, and will again rehea.r.s.e, For half an hour we may old Time outwit.'

And Basil said, 'Alas for my poor verse!

What happy memory of it still endures Will thank your love: I have forgotten it.

Speak you my stanzas, I will ransom yours.

Begin you then as I that day began, And I will follow as your answers ran.'

JANUARY

ED. The moon that mounts the sun's deserted way, Turns the long winter night to a silver day; But setteth golden in face of the solemn sight Of her lord arising upon a world of white.

FEBRUARY

BA. I have in my heart a vision of spring begun In a sheltering wood, that feels the kiss of the sun: And a thrush adoreth the melting day that dies In clouds of purple afloat upon saffron skies.

MARCH

ED. Now carol the birds at dawn, and some new lay Announceth a homecome voyager every day.

Beneath the tufted sallows the streamlet thrills With the leaping trout and the gleam of the daffodils.

APRIL

BA. Then laugheth the year; with flowers the meads are bright; The bursting branches are tipped with flames of light: The landscape is light; the dark clouds flee above, And the shades of the land are a blue that is deep as love.

MAY

ED. But if you have seen a village all red and old In cherry-orchards a-sprinkle with white and gold, By a hawthorn seated, or a witch-elm flowering high, A gay breeze making riot in the waving rye!

JUNE

BA. Then night retires from heaven; the high winds go A-sailing in cloud-pavilions of cavern'd snow.

O June, sweet Philomel sang thy cradle-lay; In rosy revel thy spirit shall pa.s.s away.

JULY

ED. Heavy is the green of the fields, heavy the trees With foliage hang, drowsy the hum of bees In the thund'rous air: the crowded scents lie low: Thro' tangle of weeds the river runneth slow.

AUGUST

BA. A reaper with dusty shoon and hat of straw On the yellow field, his scythe in his armes braw: Beneath the tall grey trees resting at noon From sweat and swink with scythe and dusty shoon.

SEPTEMBER

ED. Earth's flaunting flower of pa.s.sion fadeth fair To ripening fruit in sunlit veils of the air, As the art of man makes wisdom to glorify The beauty and love of life born else to die.

OCTOBER

BA. On frosty morns with the woods aflame, down, down The golden spoils fall thick from the chestnut crown.

May Autumn in tranquil glory her riches spend, With mellow apples her orchard-branches bend.

NOVEMBER

ED. Sad mists have hid the sun, the land is forlorn: The plough is afield, the hunter windeth his horn.

Dame Prudence looketh well to her winter stores, And many a wise man finds his pleasure indoors.

DECEMBER

BA. I pray thee don thy jerkin of olden time, Bring us good ice, and silver the trees with rime; And I will good cheer, good music and wine bestow, When the Christmas guest comes galloping over the snow.

Thus they in verse alternate sang the year For rabbit shy and listless ewe to hear, Among the grey rocks on the mountain green Beneath the sky in fair and pastoral scene, Like those Sicilian swains, whose doric tongue After two thousand years is ever young,-- _Sweet the pine's murmur, and, shepherd, sweet thy pipe,--_ Or that which gentle Virgil, yet unripe, Of t.i.tyrus sang under the spreading beech And gave to rustic clowns immortal speech, By rocky fountain or on flowery mead Bidding their idle flocks at will to feed, While they, retreated to some bosky glade, Together told their loves, and as they played Sang what sweet thing soe'er the poet feigned: But these were men when good Victoria reigned, Poets themselves, who without shepherd gear Each of his native fancy sang the year.

ECLOGUE II

GIOVANNI DUPRe

_LAWRENCE AND RICHARD_

LAWRENCE

Look down the river--against the western sky-- The Ponte Santa Trinita--what throng Slowly trails o'er with waving banners high, With foot and horse! Surely they bear along The spoil of one whom Florence honoureth: And hark! the drum, the trumpeting dismay, The wail of the triumphal march of death.