An October Night.
The Poet.
The grief that weighed me down has disappeared1
And left me like a dream—far off and dim2
Its memory seems, like night-engendered mists3
That with the dewdrops melt before the dawn.4
The Muse.
Tell me, my Poet, what may be this pain5
That for so long has kept thee far from me.6
Ready to greet the name, the much-loved name7
Of comforter, I come to comfort thee.8
Grief’s grace is wasted in the secrecy9
That thou hast given it. Hadst thou called on me10
In thy first days of dark and silent woe,11
I had been there to help. I too have wept,12
Knowing thine absence, knowing not its cause.13
Tell me what grief it is I catch from thee ?14
Whence come the tears thine eyes have lent to mince ?15
The Poet.
Thou wilt call mine the commonest of griefs,16
But ’tis man’s nature to exalt himself17
And think the world’s affliction his alone.18
The Muse.
It is the common mind that makes grief common ;19
Let thy heart speak to mine, and gather strength,20
Sharing its weight of miseries with me.21
The Poet.
I know not by what name to call my grief,22
If I must speak of it—whether to count it23
For pride, love, madness, or just such a thing24
As all men undergo ; nor can I tell25
If any man can profit by the tale—26
But thou shalt hear it ; take thy lyre, my Muse,27
And let my memory speak to its sweet chords.28
The Muse.
Stay, Poet ! ere thou tell me of thy grief29
Bethink thee well—is it or not foregone ?30
Remember that, unswayed by love or hate,31
Thou must relate the story to thy Muse ;32
No remnant of the passion that has wrecked thee33
Must reach mine ears—unsullied they must be ;34
The Poet, not the Man, should speak to me.35
The Poet.
I am so far recovered from mine ills,36
I cannot, when I would, remember them ;37
Or if they will assert themselves, it seems38
That they befell some stranger. Fear not then,39
Dear Muse : thine inspiration is a shield40
That shall keep both of us secure and sound.41
’Tis sweet to weep, but double sweet to smile,42
Remembering sorrows that we can forget.43
The Muse.
E’en as with loving watch a mother bends44
Across the cradle of her darling child,45
So stoop I trembling to the wakening heart46
That slept so long and gave no sign of life.47
Speak, dear one, for my lyre’s plaintive note48
Anticipates thy voice’s loved accords,49
And the brave sun shines forth to sweep away,50
Like a vain dream, the darkness of the past.51
The Poet.
O days of work ! Mine only days of life !52
O thrice-dear solitude ! praise be to heaven,53
Once more my Muse descends to light these walls,54
Once more my Muse and I will sing together !55
To her I’ll bare my heart—she shall know all !56
A woman was my tyrant ; I her slave,57
Who for one glimpse of bliss sold all my youth.58
When in the evening’s light beside the brook59
We walked together on the silvered grass,60
Where the white spectral aspen marked our path,61
And the cloud-haunted moon sent trembling rays62
To give us fitful guidance ; when these arms—63
O God ! I see it all ! let me forget it !64
I guessed not then the goal of all my hopes,65
But wrathful Fate must have been poor of prey66
When it looked down and fixed its gaze on me,67
And plagued me thus for seeking happiness.68
The Muse.
The memory’s sweet that hangs about thy heart,69
’Tis fear that shuns it—let thy courage rise,70
And clasp remembrance of that happy time.71
From Fate, if it were cruel, take thy cue,72
And not in tears, but smiles, enshrine thy love.73
The Poet.
No ! Smiles I keep for woe—but I have said it :74
Thou, Muse, shalt hear an unimpassioned tale75
Of all my weary dreams and bitter madness.76
I’ll tell the time, the occasion, and the place—77
How I remember ! ’Twas an autumn night,78
Chilled with the solemn rhythm of falling leaves ;79
The sighing wind, striking the same sad note,80
Half lulled the dark forebodings of my spirit.81
At an unlighted window, leaning out,82
I watched with greedy eyes for her return ;83
And as I listened, through the silent dark,84
There came about my heart an unknown grief85
That grew into the monster of suspicion.86
The street was sombre—not a soul astir—87
Far off, vague human forms passed here and there,88
And the wind, happening on some yawning gate,89
Dejected, howled, as mocking human sighs.90
I know not whence the dreadful presage came91
That gave my soul unrest and choked my hope.92
She came not ; then, with hand-supported head,93
I swept the view with love-enkindled eyes.—94
I have not told thee—nor no words can tell—95
The madness of the love I bore to her.96
But I had rather died ten thousand deaths97
Than lived a single day beyond her sight.98
So, while this dreadful night dragged out its length,99
I strained each nerve to break the heavy chain100
That held me captive : called her frail and false,101
And counted o’er the wrongs that she had done me.102
Then came remembrance of her fatal beauty,103
And crushed rebellion even in its birth ;104
Day broke at last, and found me caught by sleep.105
When the sun waked, I waked and looked for her.106
I heard her step, I rushed to question her :107
“ Whence com’st thou? from whose arms ? whose kisses hang108
About thy lips ? ” What need to tell thee more,109
Or redeliver all the words that grief,110
And wrath, and shame conspired to heap on her ?111
“ Leave me ! ” I cried ; “ pale spectre of my youth,112
Reseck the tomb that should have guarded thee ;113
Let me forget the faith I once did hold,114
Or, if my memory will hold thee still,115
Let me believe I dreamed of such an one.”116
The Muse.
Calm thee, my Poet, for thy very words117
Have made me shudder. Oh, my love, thy wound118
Is but too ready to re-open still ;119
Deep it must be, and this world’s miseries120
Most slow in their decay. Forget, my child,121
And wipe from out thy memory’s records122
That woman’s name that shall not pass my lips.123
The Poet.
O shame on her who taught me truth could die !124
Shame on thee, woman of the sombre glance,125
Whose fatal love o’ershadows all my youth !—126
’Tis thy corrupting gaze has made me curse127
The very name and thought of happiness ;128
Thy loveliness doth measure my despair,129
And, if I even doubt the truth of tears,130
Why—I have seen thee weep. O, shame on thee !131
Thou foundst me simple as a child ; my heart132
Opened to thine as flowers to the sun.133
Shame on thee, mother of my earliest grief !134
Who struck the spring of tears, that nought will check135
Until they drown thy loathed memory !136
The Muse.
Enough, my Poet ! Faithless she has proved ;137
But though her faith had lasted but one day,138
Thou shouldst not wrong that one day’s memory,139
If ’tis beyond the stretch of human strength140
Wholly to pardon undeserved ills,141
Let not thy heart be gnawed by hatred’s fangs,142
But for forgiveness let oblivion stand.143
The dead sleep quietly within the earth :144
So should dead love within the human heart.145
Thinkst thou that heaven’s providence can sleep,146
Or aim its shafts at chance ? This grief of thine,147
Opening thy heart, has taught thee how to live.148
Man is apprenticed to his master, Sorrow,149
And he knows not himself who suffers nothing.150
It is-a law severe—a law supreme,151
Old as the world, and as fatality,152
That men must be baptised in suffering.153
Tears are the dew that quickens human hearts.154
How shouldst thou value life’s delights, if not155
By having known the pain that is their price ?156
How shouldst thou love the garden-scented breeze,157
The birds’ rejoicing anthem, and the arts158
That lend a grace to Nature, if through all159
Thou didst not hear the echo of past sighs ?160
The heaven’s illimitable harmony,161
The silence of the night, the murmuring flood—162
How shouldst thou love all these, unless thy pain163
Had made thee long for an eternal rest ?164
What, then, is thy lament ? Immortal hope165
Should spring in thee from sorrow. Wherefore hate166
Thy young experience, or deplore an ill167
From which is born thy better, wiser self ?168
My child, keep pity for that faithless one169
Whose beauty caused thy tears—for she it was170
Who showed thee Sorrow’s road to happiness.171
She loved thee ; but the Fates had chosen her172
To bring thee face to face with life’s intent—173
Pity her, for she was their instrument.174
Trust me, her tears were true ; and were they false,175
Pity her still—for thou knowst how to love.176
The Poet.
Thou art right : and hatred is an evil thing,177
Whose viperous writhing in our hearts sets up178
Infinity of horror. Hearken, then,179
My goddess, and record this solemn vow :180
By the blue vault of yonder gracious heaven ;181
By the bright sphere that borrows Venus’ name,182
And pearl-like trembles in the far-off sky ;183
By Nature’s grandeur and almighty love ;184
By the firm star that is the sailor’s guide ;185
By all the meadows, all the woods and groves ;186
By life’s omnipotence—ay, by the pith187
That doth invigorate the universe,188
I banish thee for ever from my mind—189
Wreck of a maddening and insensate love,190
Dead memory of a bygone tale of woe !191
For thee, who wert my heart’s love—my soul’s life,192
The moment-of forgetfulness shall be193
The time of pardon—each shall pardon each.194
The charm is broken, and with one last tear195
I waft thee to the echoes of the past.196
Now, Muse, to our loves ! Inspire me straight197
As thou wert wont, with some all-joyous song !198
See how the flower-laden lawn awakes,199
To take the morning ; see how startled night200
Rolls, layer on layer, off before the dawn !201
We two will rise again to newer life202
Beneath the blessing of the sun’s first rays !203