XIII
And there he sets him to fulfil
His frustrate first intent:
And lay upon her bed, at last,
The offering earlier meant:
When, on his stooping figure, ghast
And haggard eyes are bent.
And there he sets him to fulfil
His frustrate first intent:
And lay upon her bed, at last,
The offering earlier meant:
When, on his stooping figure, ghast
And haggard eyes are bent.
Thomas Hardy - Poems of the Past and Present
"
VI
She coaxes, clasps, nor fails to win
His first-unwilling hand:
The merry music strikes its staves,
The dancers quickly band;
And with the damsel of the graves
He duly takes his stand.
VII
"You dance divinely, stranger swain,
Such grace I've never known.
O longer stay! Breathe not adieu
And leave me here alone!
O longer stay: to her be true
Whose heart is all your own! "--
VIII
"I mark a phantom through the pane,
That beckons in despair,
Its mouth all drawn with heavy moan--
Her to whom once I sware! "--
"Nay; 'tis the lately carven stone
Of some strange girl laid there! "--
IX
"I see white flowers upon the floor
Betrodden to a clot;
My wreath were they? "--"Nay; love me much,
Swear you'll forget me not!
'Twas but a wreath! Full many such
Are brought here and forgot. "
* * * * * * *
X
The watches of the night grow hoar,
He rises ere the sun;
"Now could I kill thee here! " he says,
"For winning me from one
Who ever in her living days
Was pure as cloistered nun! "
XI
She cowers, and he takes his track
Afar for many a mile,
For evermore to be apart
From her who could beguile
His senses by her burning heart,
And win his love awhile.
XII
A year: and he is travelling back
To her who wastes in clay;
From day-dawn until eve he fares
Along the wintry way,
From day-dawn until eve repairs
Unto her mound to pray.
XIII
And there he sets him to fulfil
His frustrate first intent:
And lay upon her bed, at last,
The offering earlier meant:
When, on his stooping figure, ghast
And haggard eyes are bent.
XIV
"O surely for a little while
You can be kind to me!
For do you love her, do you hate,
She knows not--cares not she:
Only the living feel the weight
Of loveless misery!
XV
"I own my sin; I've paid its cost,
Being outcast, shamed, and bare:
I give you daily my whole heart,
Your babe my tender care,
I pour you prayers; and aye to part
Is more than I can bear! "
XVI
He turns--unpitying, passion-tossed;
"I know you not! " he cries,
"Nor know your child. I knew this maid,
But she's in Paradise! "
And swiftly in the winter shade
He breaks from her and flies.
IMITATIONS, ETC.
SAPPHIC FRAGMENT
"Thou shalt be--Nothing. "--OMAR KHAYYAM.
"Tombless, with no remembrance. "--W. SHAKESPEARE.
DEAD shalt thou lie; and nought
Be told of thee or thought,
For thou hast plucked not of the Muses' tree:
And even in Hades' halls
Amidst thy fellow-thralls
No friendly shade thy shade shall company!
CATULLUS: XXXI
(After passing Sirmione, April 1887.
VI
She coaxes, clasps, nor fails to win
His first-unwilling hand:
The merry music strikes its staves,
The dancers quickly band;
And with the damsel of the graves
He duly takes his stand.
VII
"You dance divinely, stranger swain,
Such grace I've never known.
O longer stay! Breathe not adieu
And leave me here alone!
O longer stay: to her be true
Whose heart is all your own! "--
VIII
"I mark a phantom through the pane,
That beckons in despair,
Its mouth all drawn with heavy moan--
Her to whom once I sware! "--
"Nay; 'tis the lately carven stone
Of some strange girl laid there! "--
IX
"I see white flowers upon the floor
Betrodden to a clot;
My wreath were they? "--"Nay; love me much,
Swear you'll forget me not!
'Twas but a wreath! Full many such
Are brought here and forgot. "
* * * * * * *
X
The watches of the night grow hoar,
He rises ere the sun;
"Now could I kill thee here! " he says,
"For winning me from one
Who ever in her living days
Was pure as cloistered nun! "
XI
She cowers, and he takes his track
Afar for many a mile,
For evermore to be apart
From her who could beguile
His senses by her burning heart,
And win his love awhile.
XII
A year: and he is travelling back
To her who wastes in clay;
From day-dawn until eve he fares
Along the wintry way,
From day-dawn until eve repairs
Unto her mound to pray.
XIII
And there he sets him to fulfil
His frustrate first intent:
And lay upon her bed, at last,
The offering earlier meant:
When, on his stooping figure, ghast
And haggard eyes are bent.
XIV
"O surely for a little while
You can be kind to me!
For do you love her, do you hate,
She knows not--cares not she:
Only the living feel the weight
Of loveless misery!
XV
"I own my sin; I've paid its cost,
Being outcast, shamed, and bare:
I give you daily my whole heart,
Your babe my tender care,
I pour you prayers; and aye to part
Is more than I can bear! "
XVI
He turns--unpitying, passion-tossed;
"I know you not! " he cries,
"Nor know your child. I knew this maid,
But she's in Paradise! "
And swiftly in the winter shade
He breaks from her and flies.
IMITATIONS, ETC.
SAPPHIC FRAGMENT
"Thou shalt be--Nothing. "--OMAR KHAYYAM.
"Tombless, with no remembrance. "--W. SHAKESPEARE.
DEAD shalt thou lie; and nought
Be told of thee or thought,
For thou hast plucked not of the Muses' tree:
And even in Hades' halls
Amidst thy fellow-thralls
No friendly shade thy shade shall company!
CATULLUS: XXXI
(After passing Sirmione, April 1887.
