The Poetical Works of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart. M.P Part 67

Advancing farther, burst upon the eye 39 Patches of green miraculously isled In the white desert. Oh! the rapture cry That greeted G.o.d, and gladden'd through the wild!

The very sight suffices to restore, Green Earth--green Earth--the Mother smiles once more!

Blithe from the turf the Dove the blessed leaves[10] 40 That heal the slow plague of the sunless dearth Bears to each sufferer whom the curse bereaves Ev'n of all hope, save graves in that dear earth.

Woo'd by the kindly King they taste, to know How to each ill G.o.d plants a cure below.

Long mused the anxious hero, if to dare 41 Once more the fearful sea--or from the bark Shape ragged huts, and wait, slow-lingering there, Till Eos issuing from the gates of Dark Unlock the main? dread choice on either hand-- The liquid Acheron, or the Stygian land.

At length, resolved to seize the refuge given, 42 Once more he leads the st.u.r.diest of the crew Back to the wreck--the planks, asunder riven, And such scant stores as yet the living few May for new woes sustain, are sh.o.r.eward borne; And hasty axes shape the homes forlorn.

Now, every c.h.i.n.k closed on the deathful air, 43 In the dark cells the weary labourers sleep; Deaf to the fierce roar of the hungering bear, And the dull thunders clanging on the deep-- Till on their waking sense the discords peal, And to the numb hand cleaves unfelt the steel.

What boots long told the tale of life one war 44 With the relentless iron Element?

More, day by day, the mounting snows debar Ev'n search for food,--yet oft the human scent Lures the wild beast, which, mangling while it dies, Bursts on the prey, to fall itself the prize!

But as the winter deepens, ev'n the beast 45 Shrinks from its breath, and with the loneliness To Famine leaves the solitary feast.

Suffering halts patient in its last excess.

Closed in each tireless, lightless, foodless cave Cowers a dumb ghost unconscious of its grave.

Nature hath stricken down in that waste world 46 All--save the Soul of Arthur! _That_, sublime, Hung on the wings of heavenward faith unfurl'd, O'er the far light of the predicted Time; Believe thou hast a mission to fulfil, And human valour grows a G.o.dhead's will!

Calm to that fate above the moment given 47 Shall thy strong soul divinely dreaming go, Unconscious as an eagle, entering heaven, Where its still shadow skims the rooks below; High beyond this, its actual world is wrought, And its true life is in its sphere of thought.

Yet who can 'scape the infection of the heart? 48 Who, though himself invulnerably steel'd, Can boast a breast indifferent to the dart That threats the life his love in vain would s.h.i.+eld?

When some large nature, curious, we behold How twofold comes it from the glorious mould!

How lone, and yet how living in the All! 49 When it _imagines_ how aloof from men!

How like the ancestral Adam ere the fall, In Eden bowers the painless denizen!

But when it _feels_--the lonely heaven resign'd-- How social moves the man among mankind!

Forth from the tomblike hamlet strays the King, 50 Restless with ills from which himself is free; In that dun air the only living thing He skirts the margin of the soundless sea; No--not alone, the musing Wanderer strays; For still the Dove smiles on the dismal ways.

Nor can tongue tell, nor thought conceive how far 51 Into that storm-beat heart, the gentle bird Had built the halcyon's nest. How precious are In desolate hours, the Affections!--How, unheard Mid Noon's melodious myriads of delight, Thrills the low note that steals the gloom from night!

And, in return, a human love replying 52 To his caress, seem'd in those eyes to dwell, That mellow murmur, like a human sighing, Seem'd from those founts that lie i' the heart to swell.

Love wants not speech; from silence speech it builds, Kindness like light speaks in the air it gilds.

That angel guide! His fate while leading on, 53 It follow'd each quick movement of his soul.

As the soft shadow from the setting sun Precedes the splendour pa.s.sing to its goal, Before his path the gentle herald glides, Its life reflected from the life it guides.

Was Arthur sad? how sadden'd seem'd the Dove! 54 Did Arthur hope? how gaily soar'd its wings!

Like to that sister spirit left above, The half of ours, which, torn asunder, springs Ever through s.p.a.ce, yearning to join once more The earthlier half, its own and Heaven's before;[11]

Like an embodied living Sympathy 55 Which hath no voice and yet replies to all That wakes the lightest smile, the faintest sigh,-- So did the instinct and the mystery thrall To the earth's son the daughter of the air; And pierce his soul--to place the sister there.

She was to him as to the bard his muse 56 The solace of a sweet confessional: The hopes--the fears which manly lips refuse To speak to man, those leaves of thought that fall With every tremulous zephyr from the Tree Of Life, whirl'd from us down the darksome sea;--

Those hourly springs and winters of the heart 57 Weak to reveal to Reason's sober eye, The proudest yet will to the muse impart, And grave in song the record of a sigh.

And hath the muse no symbol in the Dove?-- Both give what youth most miss'd in human love!

Over the world of winter strays the King, 58 Seeking some track of hope--some savage prey Which, famish'd, fronts and feeds the famis.h.i.+ng; Or some dim outlet in the darkling way From the dumb grave of snows which form with snows Wastes wide as realms through which a spectre goes.

Amazed he halts:--Lo, on the rimy layer 59 That clothes sharp peaks--the print of human feet!

An awe thrill'd through him, and thus spoke in prayer, "Thee, G.o.d, in man once more then do I greet?

Hast thou vouchsafed the brother to the brother, Links which reweave thy children to each other?

"Be they the rudest of the clay divine, 60 Warm with the breath of soul, how faint so ever, Yea, though their race but threat new ills to mine, All hail the bond thy sons cannot dissever!

Bow'd to thy will, of life or death dispose, But if not human friends, grant human foes!"

Thus while he pray'd, blithe from his bosom flew 61 The guiding Dove, along the frozen plain Of a mute river, winding vale-like through Rocks lost in vapour from the voiceless main.

And as the man pursues, more thickly seen, The foot-prints tell where man before has been.

Sudden a voice--a yell, a whistling dart! 62 Dim through the fog, behold a dwarf-like band (As from the inner earth, its goblins) start; Here threatening rush, there hoa.r.s.ely gibbering stand!

Halts the firm hero; mild but undismay'd, Grasps the charm'd hilt, but will not bare the blade.

And with a kingly gesture eloquent, 63 Seems to command the peace, not shun the fray; Daunted they back recoil, yet not relent; As Indians round the forest lord at bay, Beyond his reach they form the deathful ring, And every shaft is fitted to the string.

When in the circle a grand shape appears, 64 Day's lofty child amid those dwarfs of Night, Ev'n through the hides of beasts (its garb) it rears The glorious aspect of a son of light.

Hush'd at that presence was the clamouring crowd; Dropp'd every hand and every knee was bow'd.

Forth stepp'd the man, advancing towards the King; 65 And his own language smote the Cymrian's ear, "What fates, unhappy one, a stranger bring To sh.o.r.es,"--he started, stopp'd,--and bounded near; Gazed on that front august, a moment's s.p.a.ce,-- Rush'd,--lock'd the wanderer in a long embrace;

Weeping and laughing in a breath, the cheek, 66 The lip he kiss'd--then kneeling, clasp'd the hand; And gasping, sobbing, sought in vain to speak-- Meanwhile the King the beard-grown visage scann'd: Amazed--he knew his Carduel's comely lord, And the warm heart to heart as warm restored!

Speech came at length: first mindful of the lives, 67 Claiming his care and perill'd for his sake, Not yet the account that love demands and gives The generous leader paused to yield and take; Brief words his follower's wants and woes explain;-- "Light, warmth, and food.--_Sat verb.u.m_," quoth Gawaine.

Quick to his wondering and Pigmaean troops-- 68 Quick sped the Knight; he spoke and was obey'd; Vanish once more the goblin-visaged groups And soon return caparison'd for aid; Laden with oil to warm and light the air, Flesh from the seal, and mantles from the bear.

Back with impatient rapture bounds the King, 69 Smiling as he was wont to smile of yore; While Gawaine, blithesome as a bird of spring, Sends his sweet laughter ringing to the sh.o.r.e; Pains through that maze of questions, "How and Why?"

And lost in joy stops never for reply.

Before them roved wild dogs too numb to bark, 70 Led by one civilized majestic hound, Who scarcely deign'd his followers to remark, Save, when they touch'd him, by a snarl profound; Teaching that _plebs_, as history may my readers, How curs are look'd on by patrician leaders.

Now gain'd the huts, silent with drowsy life, 71 That scarcely feels the quick restoring skill; Train'd with stern elements to wage the strife, The pigmy race are Nature's conquerors still.

With practised hands they chafe the frozen veins, And gradual loose the chill heart from its chains;

Heap round the limbs the fur's thick warmth of fold, 72 And with the cheerful oil revive the air.

Slow wake the eyes of Famine to behold The smiling faces and the proffer'd fare; Rank though the food, 'tis that which best supplies The powers exhausted by the withering skies.

This done, they next the languid sufferers bear 73 (Wrapp'd from the cold) athwart the vapoury shade, Regain the vale, and show the homes that there Art's earliest G.o.d, Necessity, hath made; Abodes hewn out from winter, winter-proof, Ice-blocks the walls, and hollow'd ice the roof![12]

Without, the snowy lavas, hard'ning o'er, 74 Hide from the beasts the buried homes of men, But in the dome is placed the artful door Through which the inmate gains or leaves the den.

Down through the chasm each lowers the living load, Then from the winter seals the pent abode.

There ever burns, sole source of warmth and light, 75 The faithful lamp the whale or walrus gives, Thus, Lord of Europe, in the heart of Night, Unjoyous not, thy patient brother lives!

To thee desire, to him possession sent, Thine worlds of wishes,--his that inch, Content!

But Gawaine's home, more dainty than the rest, 76 Betray'd his tastes exotic and luxurious The walls of ice in furry hangings dress'd Form'd an apartment elegant if curious!

Like some gigantic son of Major Ursa Turn'd inside out by barbarous _vice versa_.