Bridges Robert

The Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Excluding the Eight Dramas


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Indulge her girlish fancy, gathering flowers

       To deck the banner of my golden brother,

       Whose thought they guess not, tho' their presence here

       Affront his will and mine. If once alone 50

       I spy her, I can snatch her swiftly down:

       And after shall find favour for my fault,

       When I by gentle means have won her love.

       I hear their music now. Hither they come:

       I'll to my ambush in the rocky cave. [Exit.

      {53}

      ACT I

      Enter Chorus of Oceanides, with baskets.

      OCEANIDES.

      Gay and lovely is earth, man's decorate dwelling;

       With fresh beauty ever varying hour to hour.

       As now bathed in azure joy she awakeneth

       With bright morn to the sun's life-giving effluence,

       Or sunk into solemn darkness aneath the stars 60

       In mysterious awe slumbereth out the night,

       Then from darkness again plunging again to day;

       Like dolphins in a swift herd that accompany

       Poseidon's chariot when he rebukes the waves.

       But no country to me 'neath the enarching air

       Is fair as Sicily's flowery fruitful isle:

       Always lovely, whether winter adorn the hills

       With his silvery snow, or generous summer

       Outpour her heavy gold on the river-valleys.

       Her rare beauty giveth gaiety unto man, 70

       A delite dear to immortals.

      2

      And one season of all chiefly deliteth us,

       When fair Spring is afield. O happy is the Spring!

       Now birds early arouse their pretty minstreling;

       Now down its rocky hill murmureth ev'ry rill;

       Now all bursteth anew, wantoning in the dew

       Their bells of bonny blue, their chalices honey'd.

       Unkind frost is away; now sunny is the day;

       Now man thinketh aright, Life it is all delite.

       Now maids playfully dance o'er enamel'd meadows, 80

       And with goldy blossom deck forehead and bosom;

       While old Pan rollicketh thro' the budding shadows,

       Voicing his merry reed, laughing aloud to lead

       The echoes madly rejoicing.

      {54}

      3

      We be Oceanids, Persephone's lovers,

       Who all came hurrying joyfully from the sea

       Ere daybreak to obey her belovëd summons.

       At her fancy to pluck these violets, lilies,

       Windflow'rs and daffodils, all for a festival

       Whereat shé will adorn Zeuses honour'd banner. 90

       And with Persephone there cometh Artemis

       And grave Pallas … Hilloo! Already they approach!

       Haste, haste! Stoop to gather! Seem busy ev'ryone!

       Crowd all your wicker arcs with the meadow-lilies;

       Lest our disreverenc'd deity should rebuke

       The divine children of Ocean.

      [Enter Athena, Persephone, and Artemis. Persephone has a basket half fill'd with gather'd flowers.]

      ATHENA.

      These then are Enna's flowery fields, and here

       In midmost isle the garden of thy choice?

      PERSEPHONE.

      Is not all as I promist? Feel ye not

       Your earthborn ecstasy concenter'd here? 100

       Tell me, Athena, of thy wisdom, whénce

       Cometh this joy of earth, this penetrant

       Palpitant exultation so unlike

       The balanc't calm of high Olympian state?

       Is't in the air, the tinted atmosphere

       Whose gauzy veil, thrown on the hills, will paint

       Their features, changing with the gradual day,

       Rosy or azure, clouded now, and now

       Again afire? Or is it that the sun's

       Electric beams—which shot in circling fans 110

       Whirl all things with them—as they strike the earth

       Excite her yearning heart, till stir'd beneath{55}

       The rocks and silent plains, she cannot hold

       Her fond desires, but sends them bursting forth

       In scents and colour'd blossoms of the spring?—

       Breathes it not in the flowers?

       Ath. Fair are the flowers,

       Dear child; and yet to me far lovelier

       Than all their beauty is thy love for them.

       Whate'er I love, I contemplate my love

       More than the object, and am so rejoic'd. 120

       For life is one, and like a level sea

       Life's flood of joy. Thou wond'rest at the flowers,

       But I would teach thee wonder of thy wonder;

       Would shew thee beauty in the desert-sand,

       The worth of things unreckt of, and the truth

       That thy desire and love may spring of evil

       And ugliness, and that Earth's ecstasy

       May dwell in darkness also, in sorrow and tears.

       Per. I'd not believe it: why then should we pluck

       The flowers and not the stalks without the flowers? 130

       Or do thy stones breathe scent? Would not men laugh

       To see the banner of almighty Zeus

       Adorn'd with ragged roots and straws?—Dear Artemis,

       How lovest thou the flowers?

      ARTEMIS.

      I'll love them better

       Ever for thy sake, Cora; but for me

       The joy of Earth is in the breath of life

       And animal motions: nor are flowery sweets

       Dear as the scent of life. His petal'd cup,

       What is it by the wild fawn's liquid eye

       Eloquent as love-music 'neath the moon? 140

       Nay, not a flower in all thy garden here,

       Nor wer't a thousand-thousand-fold enhanc't

       In every charm, but thou wouldst turn from it

       To view the antler'd stag, that in the glade{56}

       With the coy gaze of his majestic fear

       Faced thee a moment ere he turn'd to fly.

       Per. But why, then, hunt and kill what thou so lovest?

       Ar. Dost thou not pluck thy flowers?

       Per. 'Tis not the same.