Part 5

Rest, and be glad of the gods; but I, How shall I praise them, or how take rest? There is not room under all the sky For me that know not of worst or best, Dream or desire of the days before, Sweet things or bitterness, any more. Love will not come to me now though I die, As love came close to you, breast to breast.

I shall never be friends again with roses; I shall loathe sweet tunes, where a note grown strong Relents and recoils, and climbs and closes, As a wave of the sea turned back by song. There are sounds where the soul's delight takes fire, Face to face with its own desire; A delight that rebels, a desire that reposes; I shall hate sweet music my whole life long.

The pulse of war and passion of wonder, The heavens that murmur, the sounds that shine, The stars that sing and the loves that thunder, The music burning at heart like wine, An armed archangel whose hands raise up All senses mixed in the spirit's cup Till flesh and spirit are molten in sunder-- These things are over, and no more mine.

These were a part of the playing I heard Once, ere my love and my heart were at strife; Love that sings and hath wings as a bird, Balm of the wound and heft of the knife. Fairer than earth is the sea, and sleep Than overwatching of eyes that weep, Now time has done with his one sweet word, The wine and leaven of lovely life.

I shall go my ways, tread out my measure, Fill the days of my daily breath With fugitive things not good to treasure, Do as the world doth, say as it saith; But if we had loved each other--O sweet, Had you felt, lying under the palms of your feet, The heart of my heart, beating harder with pleasure To feel you tread it to dust and death--

Ah, had I not taken my life up and given All that life gives and the years let go, The wine and honey, the balm and leaven, The dreams reared high and the hopes brought low? Come life, come death, not a word be said; Should I lose you living, and vex you dead? I never shall tell you on earth; and in heaven, If I cry to you then, will you hear or know?

LES NOYADES

Whatever a man of the sons of men Shall say to his heart of the lords above, They have shown man verily, once and again, Marvellous mercies and infinite love.

In the wild fifth year of the change of things, When France was glorious and blood-red, fair With dust of battle and deaths of kings, A queen of men, with helmeted hair,

Carrier came down to the Loire and slew, Till all the ways and the waves waxed red: Bound and drowned, slaying two by two, Maidens and young men, naked and wed.

They brought on a day to his judgment-place One rough with labour and red with fight, And a lady noble by name and face, Faultless, a maiden, wonderful, white.

She knew not, being for shame's sake blind, If his eyes were hot on her face hard by. And the judge bade strip and ship them, and bind Bosom to bosom, to drown and die.

The white girl winced and whitened; but he Caught fire, waxed bright as a great bright flame Seen with thunder far out on the sea, Laughed hard as the glad blood went and came.

Twice his lips quailed with delight, then said, "I have but a word to you all, one word; Bear with me; surely I am but dead;" And all they laughed and mocked him and heard.

"Judge, when they open the judgment-roll, I will stand upright before God and pray: 'Lord God, have mercy on one man's soul, For his mercy was great upon earth, I say.

"'Lord, if I loved thee--Lord, if I served-- If these who darkened thy fair Son's face I fought with, sparing not one, nor swerved A hand's-breadth, Lord, in the perilous place--

"'I pray thee say to this man, O Lord, _Sit thou for him at my feet on a throne_. I will face thy wrath, though it bite as a sword, And my soul shall burn for his soul, and atone.

"'For, Lord, thou knowest, O God most wise, How gracious on earth were his deeds towards me. Shall this be a small thing in thine eyes, That is greater in mine than the whole great sea?'

"I have loved this woman my whole life long, And even for love's sake when have I said 'I love you'? when have I done you wrong, Living? but now I shall have you dead.

"Yea, now, do I bid you love me, love? Love me or loathe, we are one not twain. But God be praised in his heaven above For this my pleasure and that my pain!

"For never a man, being mean like me, Shall die like me till the whole world dies. I shall drown with her, laughing for love; and she Mix with me, touching me, lips and eyes.

"Shall she not know me and see me all through, Me, on whose heart as a worm she trod? You have given me, God requite it you, What man yet never was given of God."

O sweet one love, O my life's delight, Dear, though the days have divided us, Lost beyond hope, taken far out of sight, Not twice in the world shall the gods do thus.

Had it been so hard for my love? but I, Though the gods gave all that a god can give, I had chosen rather the gift to die, Cease, and be glad above all that live.

For the Loire would have driven us down to the sea, And the sea would have pitched us from shoal to shoal; And I should have held you, and you held me, As flesh holds flesh, and the soul the soul.

Could I change you, help you to love me, sweet, Could I give you the love that would sweeten death, We should yield, go down, locked hands and feet, Die, drown together, and breath catch breath;

But you would have felt my soul in a kiss, And known that once if I loved you well; And I would have given my soul for this To burn for ever in burning hell.

A LEAVE-TAKING

Let us go hence, my songs; she will not hear. Let us go hence together without fear; Keep silence now, for singing-time is over, And over all old things and all things dear. She loves not you nor me as all we love her. Yea, though we sang as angels in her ear, She would not hear.

Let us rise up and part; she will not know. Let us go seaward as the great winds go, Full of blown sand and foam; what help is here? There is no help, for all these things are so, And all the world is bitter as a tear. And how these things are, though ye strove to show, She would not know.

Let us go home and hence; she will not weep. We gave love many dreams and days to keep, Flowers without scent, and fruits that would not grow, Saying 'If thou wilt, thrust in thy sickle and reap.' All is reaped now; no grass is left to mow; And we that sowed, though all we fell on sleep, She would not weep.

Let us go hence and rest; she will not love. She shall not hear us if we sing hereof, Nor see love's ways, how sore they are and steep. Come hence, let be, lie still; it is enough. Love is a barren sea, bitter and deep; And though she saw all heaven in flower above, She would not love.

Let us give up, go down; she will not care. Though all the stars made gold of all the air, And the sea moving saw before it move One moon-flower making all the foam-flowers fair; Though all those waves went over us, and drove Deep down the stifling lips and drowning hair, She would not care.

Let us go hence, go hence; she will not see. Sing all once more together; surely she, She too, remembering days and words that were, Will turn a little toward us, sighing; but we, We are hence, we are gone, as though we had not been there. Nay, and though all men seeing had pity on me, She would not see.

ITYLUS

Swallow, my sister, O sister swallow, How can thine heart be full of the spring? A thousand summers are over and dead. What hast thou found in the spring to follow? What hast thou found in thine heart to sing? What wilt thou do when the summer is shed?

O swallow, sister, O fair swift swallow, Why wilt thou fly after spring to the south, The soft south whither thine heart is set? Shall not the grief of the old time follow? Shall not the song thereof cleave to thy mouth? Hast thou forgotten ere I forget?

Sister, my sister, O fleet sweet swallow, Thy way is long to the sun and the south; But I, fulfilled of my heart's desire, Shedding my song upon height, upon hollow, From tawny body and sweet small mouth Feed the heart of the night with fire.

I the nightingale all spring through, O swallow, sister, O changing swallow, All spring through till the spring be done, Clothed with the light of the night on the dew, Sing, while the hours and the wild birds follow, Take flight and follow and find the sun.

Sister, my sister, O soft light swallow, Though all things feast in the spring's guest-chamber, How hast thou heart to be glad thereof yet? For where thou fliest I shall not follow, Till life forget and death remember, Till thou remember and I forget.

Swallow, my sister, O singing swallow, I know not how thou hast heart to sing. Hast thou the heart? is it all past over? Thy lord the summer is good to follow, And fair the feet of thy lover the spring: But what wilt thou say to the spring thy lover?

O swallow, sister, O fleeting swallow, My heart in me is a molten ember And over my head the waves have met. But thou wouldst tarry or I would follow, Could I forget or thou remember, Couldst thou remember and I forget.

O sweet stray sister, O shifting swallow, The heart's division divideth us. Thy heart is light as a leaf of a tree; But mine goes forth among sea-gulfs hollow To the place of the slaying of Itylus, The feast of Daulis, the Thracian sea.

O swallow, sister, O rapid swallow, I pray thee sing not a little space. Are not the roofs and the lintels wet? The woven web that was plain to follow, The small slain body, the flowerlike face, Can I remember if thou forget?

O sister, sister, thy first-begotten! The hands that cling and the feet that follow, The voice of the child's blood crying yet _Who hath remembered me? who hath forgotten?_ Thou hast forgotten, O summer swallow, But the world shall end when I forget.

ANACTORIA

[Greek: tinos au ty peithoi maps sageneusas philotata?] SAPPHO.