The poetical works of George MacDonald Volume Ii Part 4

Her face on his, her mouth to his mouth pressed, Was all the answer of the trusting maid.

Close in his arms he held her to his breast For one brief moment--would have yet a.s.sayed Some deeper word her heart to strengthen, lest It should though faithful be too much afraid; But the clock gave the warning to the hour-- And on the thatch fell sounds not of a shower.

One long kiss, and the maiden rose. A fear Lay, thin as a gla.s.sy shadow, on her heart; She trembled as some unknown thing were near, But smiled next moment--for they should not part!

The youth arose. With solemn-joyous cheer, He helped the maid, whose trembling hands did thwart Her haste to wrap her in her mantle's fold; Then out they pa.s.sed into the midnight cold.

The moon was sinking in the dim green west, Curled upward, half-way to the horizon's brink, A leaf of glory falling to its rest, The maiden's hand, still trembling, sought to link Her arm to his, with love's instinctive quest, But his enfolded her; hers did not sink, But, thus set free, it stole his body round, And so they walked, in freedom's fetters bound.

Pressed to his side, she felt, like full-toned bell, A mighty heart heave large in measured play; But as the floating moon aye lower fell Its bounding force did, by slow loss, decay.

It throbbed now like a bird; now like far knell Pulsed low and faint! And now, with sick dismay, She felt the arm relax that round her clung, And from her circling arm he forward hung.

His footsteps feeble, short his paces grow; Her strength and courage mount and swell amain.

He lifted up his head: the moon lay low, Nigh the world's edge. His lips with some keen pain Quivered, but with a smile his eyes turned slow Seeking in hers the balsam for his bane And finding it--love over death supreme: Like two sad souls they walked met in one dream.[A]

[Note A:

In a lovely garden walking Two lovers went hand in hand; Two wan, worn figures, talking They sat in the flowery land.

On the cheek they kissed one another, On the mouth with sweet refrain; Fast held they each the other, And were young and well again.

Two little bells rang shrilly-- The dream went with the hour: She lay in the cloister stilly, He far in the dungeon-tower!

_From Uhland._]

Hanging his head, behind each came a hound, Padding with gentle paws upon the road.

Straight silent pines rose here and there around; A dull stream on the left side hardly flowed; A black snake through the sluggish waters wound.

Hark, the night raven! see the crawling toad!

She thinks how dark will be the moonless night, How feeblest ray is yet supernal light.

The moon's last gleam fell on dim glazed eyes, A body shrunken from its garments' fold: An aged man whose bent knees could not rise, He tottered in the maiden's tightening hold.

She s.h.i.+vered, but too slight was the disguise To hide from love what never yet was old; She held him fast, with open eyes did pray, Walked through the fear, and kept the onward way.

Toward a gloomy thicket of tall firs, Dragging his inch-long steps, he turned aside.

There Silence sleeps; not one green needle stirs.

They enter it. A breeze begins to chide Among the cones. It swells until it whirs, Vibrating so each sharp leaf that it sighed: The grove became a harp of mighty chords, Wing-smote by unseen creatures wild for words.

But when he turned again, toward the cleft Of a great rock, as instantly it ceased, And the tall pines stood sudden, as if reft Of a strong pa.s.sion, or from pain released; Again they wove their straight, dark, motionless weft Across the moonset-bars; and, west and east, Cloud-giants rose and marched up cloudy stairs; And like sad thoughts the bats came unawares.

'Twas a drear chamber for thy bridal night, O poor, pale, saviour bride! An earthen lamp With shaking hands he kindled, whose faint light Mooned out a tiny halo on the damp That filled the cavern to its unseen height, Dim glimmering like death-candle in a swamp.

Watching the entrance, each side lies a hound, With liquid light his red eyes gleaming round.

A heap rose grave-like from the rocky floor Of moss and leaves, by many a sunny wind Long tossed and dried--with rich furs covered o'er Expectant. Up a jealous glory s.h.i.+ned In her possessing heart: he should find more In her than in those faithless! With sweet mind She, praying gently, did herself unclothe, And lay down by him, trusting, and not loath.

Once more a wind came, flapping overhead; The hounds p.r.i.c.ked up their ears, their eyes flashed fire.

The trembling maiden heard a sudden tread-- Dull, yet plain dinted on the windy gyre, As if long, wet feet o'er smooth pavement sped-- Come fiercely up, as driven by longing dire To enter; followed sounds of hurried rout: With bristling hair, the hounds stood looking out.

Then came, half querulous, a whisper old, Feeble and hollow as if shut in a chest: "Take my face on your bosom; I am cold."

She bared her holy bosom's truth-white nest, And forth her two hands instant went, love-bold, And took the face, and close against her pressed: Ah, the dead chill!--Was that the feet again?-- But her great heart kept beating for the twain.

She heard the wind fall, heard the following rain Swelling the silent waters till their sound Went wallowing through the night along the plain.

The lamp went out, by the slow darkness drowned.

Must the fair dawn a thousand years refrain?

Like centuries the feeble hours went round.

Eternal night entombed her with decay: To her live soul she clasped the breathless clay.

The world stood still. Her life sank down so low That but for wretchedness no life she knew.

A charnel wind moaned out a moaning--_No_; From the devouring heart of earth it blew.

Fair memories lost all their sunny glow: Out of the dark the forms of old friends grew But so transparent blanched with dole and smart She saw the pale worm lying in each heart.

And, worst of all--Oh death of keep-fled life!

A voice within her woke and cried: In sooth Vain is all sorrow, hope, and care, and strife!

Love and its beauty, its tenderness and truth Are shadows bred in hearts too fancy-rife, Which melt and pa.s.s with sure-decaying youth: Regard them, and they quiver, waver, blot; Gaze at them fixedly, and they are not.

And all the answer the poor child could make Was in the tightened clasp of arms and hands.

Hopeless she lay, like one Death would not take But still kept driving from his empty lands, Yet hopeless held she out for his dear sake; The darksome horror grew like drifting sands Till nought was precious--neither G.o.d nor light, And yet she braved the false, denying night.

So dead was hope, that, when a glimmer weak Stole through a fissure somewhere in the cave, Thinning the clotted darkness on his cheek, She thought her own tired eyes the glimmer gave: He moved his head; she saw his eyes, love-meek, And knew that Death was dead and filled the Grave.

Old age, convicted lie, had fled away!

Youth, Youth eternal, in her bosom lay!

With a low cry closer to him she crept And on his bosom hid a face that glowed: It was his turn to comfort--he had slept!

Oh earth and sky, oh ever patient G.o.d, She had not yielded, but the truth had kept!

New love, new bliss in weeping overflowed.

I can no farther tell the tale begun; They are asleep, and waiting for the sun.

_THE LOST SOUL_.

Look! look there!

Send your eyes across the gray By my finger-point away Through the vaporous, fumy air.

Beyond the air, you see the dark?

Beyond the dark, the dawning day?

On its horizon, pray you, mark Something like a ruined heap Of worlds half-uncreated, that go back: Down all the grades through which they rose Up to harmonious life and law's repose, Back, slow, to the awful deep Of nothingness, mere being's lack: On its surface, lone and bare, Shapeless as a dumb despair, Formless, nameless, something lies: Can the vision in your eyes Its idea recognize?

'Tis a poor lost soul, alack!-- Half he lived some ages back; But, with hardly opened eyes, Thinking him already wise, Down he sat and wrote a book; Drew his life into a nook; Out of it would not arise To peruse the letters dim, Graven dark on his own walls; Those, he judged, were chance-led scrawls, Or at best no use to him.

A lamp was there for reading these; This he trimmed, sitting at ease, For its aid to write his book, Never at his walls to look-- Trimmed and trimmed to one faint spark Which went out, and left him dark.-- I will try if he can hear Spirit words with spirit ear!

Motionless thing! who once, Like him who cries to thee, Hadst thy place with thy s.h.i.+ning peers, Thy changeful place in the changeless dance Issuing ever in radiance From the doors of the far eternity, With feet that glitter and glide and glance To the music-law that binds the free, And sets the captive at liberty-- To the clang of the crystal spheres!

O heart for love! O thirst to drink From the wells that feed the sea!

O hands of truth, a human link 'Twixt mine and the Father's knee!

O eyes to see! O soul to think!

O life, the brother of me!

Has Infinitude sucked back all The individual life it gave?

Boots it nothing to cry and call?

Is thy form an empty grave?

It heareth not, brothers, the terrible thing!

Sounds no sense to its ear will bring!