A Legend of Old Persia and Other Poems Part 8

The Hermit and the Faun.

A hermit knelt before his door Long-bearded, bald of head, When a laughing faun peeped thro' the brake And these the words he said, "My mother was a water-nymph And in these woods I grew, The faun, Amyntas, is my name, To what name answer you?

How came you to this lonely hut, Why kneel you in the dust, With scalp as bald as a beggar's bowl And beard as red as rust?

Why make you with those knotted claws Your gestures strange and sad?

The sheep-bells tinkle from the plain, The forest paths are glad."

"Oh! creature of the wood and wild You may not know my name, It was forgotten long ago For it was one of shame.

Therefore I made a vow to dwell Upon this forest brink And take the ripened nuts for food And catch the rain for drink, To sc.r.a.pe wild honey from the rocks And make my bed on leaves Because of the hot sins of my youth Whereat my spirit grieves."

"Not such as you, Oh! ancient man, Our joyous Satyrs here: Old men are they all laughter-mad Who wallow in good cheer.

Amid lush gra.s.ses soft and cool They make their feasting ground, With smilax and with bryony Their rosy pates are crowned.

You see them thro' the forest trunks Great rolling gladsome shapes, Who prop themselves on skins of wine By purple piles of grapes.

Their huge brown bellies quake with mirth, Their ancient eyes are bright, And there they sit and roar old tales Far, far into the night.

Then tipsy with the heady juice Each falls into a heap, Till white-horned morning bids him wake With all the land from sleep."

"Oft lying in this lonely hut On panting summer nights I watched the stars like silver lamps Hung from those purple heights, And heard the forest-depths behind Fill with disquieting noise Like frightened cries of flying girls And shouts of eager boys, And saw white shapes go flitting past Like runners in a race And caught faint murmurs, sighs and laughs From all the forest place.

And oft a distant sound of shouts Came with the soft night airs, And I ... lest evil might befall Got swiftly to my prayers."

"And tell me now, Oh! ancient man, The G.o.d to whom you pray, These woods know none but mighty Pan Whom all our folk obey.

His altar stands by yonder plane And there the shepherds bring, Toiling up from the fields below, Each day an offering, A lamb or else a yearling kid, A bud-horned l.u.s.ty fellow, Great cheeses, grapes, or bursting figs, Or apples red and yellow, Or melons ripened in the sun A foot from end to end.

Such gifts the shepherds bring to Pan That he may be their friend.

"He is our Father, Lord of all, From the meadow to the Pa.s.s, So ... pray you to a painted bird, Or green snake in the gra.s.s?"

"Rash Thing, beware," the Hermit cried, Like agates were his eyes, "The G.o.d I serve you do not know A strong G.o.d, just and wise.

For He will purge your streams and woods, And smite both hip and thigh Your Satyrs, amorous b.e.s.t.i.a.l sots, Your careless company Who wanton in the thymy ways In which these woods abound, And kiss with soft empurpled mouths, Luxuriantly crowned.

My soul is filled with prophecy; Dimly I see a bark Which runs by some low wooded isle; The night is warm and dark, And from a promontory rings A sudden bitter cry, It smites the lonely helmsman's ears And tingles in the sky.

'Oh! Traveller, tell in every land These tidings strange and dread, Let all the peoples wail and weep, For Pan, great Pan, is dead.'"

Amyntas pursed his pouting lips And shook his curly head, "Farewell, old man, the forest calls; I like you not," he said.

"Your flesh is dried, your ribs are lean, You are too lank and sere, Your voice is harsh, your words are grim And do not please mine ear.

The great G.o.d Pan is all I need And all I wish to know, My Father Pan, the shepherd's G.o.d, And now, old man, I go."

Behind him closed a greening brake, And, after many a hail, He joined his gay companions And gambolled in a vale.

Love's Defiance.

"Light of my life lie close Oh! Love, I have found you at last; Let me hear your low sweet voice The knell of the aching past.

The lashes lie on your cheek Oh! lift them and show me your eyes; Twin stars in a mortal face, They are soft, they are kind, they are wise."

"Heart of my hungry heart My hero whose hand is in mine If we fall let it be to the pit, For to-day we have touched the divine.

Time has stood still to-day....

This day which has squandered its sun.

It has been all glory and gold All perfect days in this one."

"Light of my life, my love, My lady of dreams, lie near, The evening sighs thro' the pines, Hark! do you feel no fear?

The light of love flashes out....

Oh! wonder so old and so new-- I am strong with the strength of that name, Dear, when I look at you."

"Heart of my beating heart, My friend whose forehead I kiss In the days which were not days, Weaker was I than this.

In the years which the locust ate My spirit clove to the dust, But now--come fate--I am bold, I build on a higher trust."

"Light of my life, my Queen, Let us quarrel no more with life-- The tears--or the final truth-- We are victors now in the strife.

With its purer days of joy With its prison anguish too, All myself, and the past of myself, My darling, wors.h.i.+p you."

"Heart of my singing heart, My lover, my lord, all hail!

Fear shall be underfoot, I feel that we shall not fail.

In the shadowy land we leave The grim wolves raven and bark, But our hearts are steadfast at length And our faces turn from the dark."

The Playmates.

"Oh! Mary, Mary, my Mary, oh!

You looked so bonny then.

Will you no give me your little hand, The sweetest hand I ken?"

"Oh! I will give you my little hand, I'm sweir to say you no, Oh! I'll now give you my hands both My friends.h.i.+p for to show."

"Oh! Mary, Mary, my la.s.sie dear, The tears stand in these eyne.

Will you no give me a kind word For the sake of old lang syne?"

"Oh! I will give you a kind word Tho' I have little skill, For the time that we were children And played upon the hill."

"Oh! Mary, Mary, my la.s.s o' gold, Will you no give me a kiss?

My heart, I think, is like to break If you refuse me this."

"Alas! and if I must refuse You will not think me bad.

That your heart should break for my sake, In truth it makes me sad."

"Oh! Mary, Mary, my la.s.sie oh!

I will be true as steel.

Will you no give me your promised word For the love that I do feel?"

"Indeed--indeed--I like you well Aye, better than my brother, But I canna give you my promised word For--I must wait for another."

DRAMAS.