Bridges Robert

The Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Excluding the Eight Dramas


Скачать книгу

Ar. Give me thy hand.

       Per. Stay! stay! I have left my flowers.

       I follow.

      [Exeunt Athena and Artemis.

      [Persephone returning to right slowly.

      They understand not—Now, praise be to Zeus, 261

       That, tho' I sprang not from his head, I know

       Something that Pallas knows not.

      [She has come to where her basket lies. In stooping towards it she kneels to pluck a flower: and then comes to sit on a bank with the basket in hand on her knees, facing the audience.]

      Thou tiny flower!

       Art thou not wise?

       Who taught thee else, thou frail anemone,

       Thy starry notion, thy wind-wavering motion,

       Thy complex of chaste beauty, unimagin'd

       Till thou art seen?—And how so wisely, thou,

       Indifferent to the number of thy rays, 270

       While others are so strict? This six-leaved tulip,

      —He would not risk a seventh for all his worth—

       He thought to attain unique magnificence

       By sheer simplicity—a pointed oval

       Bare on a stalk erect: and yet, grown old

       He will his young idea quite abandon,{60}

       In his dishevel'd fury wantoning

       Beyond belief. … Some are four-leaved: this poppy

       Will have but four. He, like a hurried thief,

       Stuffs his rich silks into too small a bag—280

       I think he watch'd a summer-butterfly

       Creep out all crumpled from his winter-case,

       Trusting the sun to smooth his tender tissue

       And sleek the velvet of his painted wings:—

       And so doth he.—Between such different schemes,

       Such widely varied loveliness, how choose?

       Yet loving all, one should be most belov'd,

       Most intimately mine; to mortal men

       My emblem: tho' I never find in one

       The sum of all distinctions.—Rose were best: 290

       But she is passion's darling, and unkind

       To handle—set her by.—Choosing for odour,

       The violet were mine—men call her modest,

       Because she hides, and when in company

       Lacks manner and the assertive style of worth:—

       While this narcissus here scorns modesty,

       Will stand up what she is, tho' something prim:

       Her scent, a saturation of one tone,

       Like her plain symmetry, leaves nought to fancy:—

       Whereas this iris—she outvieth man's 300

       Excellent artistry; elaboration

       Confounded with simplicity, till none

       Can tell which sprang of which. Coud I but find

       A scented iris, I should be content:

       Yet men would call me proud: Iris is Pride.—

       To-day I'll favour thee, sweet violet;

       Thou canst live in my bosom. I'll not wrong thee

       Wearing thee in Olympus.—Help! help! Ay me!

      [Persephone rises to her feet, and amidst a contrivance of confused darkness Hades is seen rushing from behind. He seizes her and drags her backward. Her basket is thrown up and the flowers scattered.]

       Table of Contents

      CHORUS.

      I (α)

       Bright day succeedeth unto day—

       Night to pensive night—310

       With his towering ray

       Of all-fathering light—

       With the solemn trance

       Of her starry dance.—

       Nought is new or strange

       In the eternal change.—

       As the light clouds fly

       O'er the tree-tops high,

       So the days go by.—

       Ripples that arrive 320

       On the sunny shore,

       Dying to their live

       Music evermore.—

       Like pearls on a thread—

       Like notes of a song—

       Like the measur'd tread

       Of a dancing throng.—

      (β)

       Ocëanides are we,

       Nereids of the foam,

       But we left the sea 330

       On the earth to roam

       With the fairest Queen

       That the world hath seen.—{62}

       Why amidst our play

       Was she sped away?—

       Over hill and plain

       We have sought in vain;

       She comes not again.—

       Not the Naiads knew

       On their dewy lawns:—340

       Not the laughing crew

       Of the leaping Fauns.—

       Now, since she is gone,

       All our dance is slow,

       All our joy is done,

       And our song is woe.—

      II

       Saw ye the mighty Mother, where she went

       Searching the land?

       Nor night nor day resting from her lament,

       With smoky torch in hand. 350

       Her godhead in the passion of a sorrow spent

       Which not her mind coud suffer, nor heart withstand?—

      2

       Enlanguor'd like a fasting lioness,

       That prowls around

       Robb'd of her whelps, in fury comfortless

       Until her lost be found:

       Implacable and terrible in her wild distress;

       And thro' the affrighted country her roars resound.—

      3

       But lo! what form is there? Thine eyes awaken!

       See! see! O say, 360

       Is not that she, the furious, the forsaken?

       She cometh, lo! this way;

       Her golden-rippling hair upon her shoulders shaken,

       And all her visage troubled with deep dismay.

      {63}

      DEMETER (entering).

      Here