Part 2

For others, Lord, Thy purging fires, The loves reknit, the crown, the palm. For me, the death of all desires In deep, eternal calm.

EVENSONG

In the heart of a German forest I followed the winding ways Deep-cushioned with moss, and barr’d with the sunset’s slanting rays,

When out of the distance dim, where no end to the path was seen, But the breath of the Springtime clung like a motionless mist of green,

I heard a sound of singing, unearthly-sad and clear, Rise from the forest deeps and float on the evening air.

And I thought of the spirits told of in dark old forest lore Who roam the greenwood singing for ever and evermore;

And I stopped and wondered and waited, as nearer the music grew, Louder and still more loud--till at last came into view

A troop of Saxon maidens, tanned with the rain and sun, A burden of billeted wood on the shoulders of every one!

The strong steps never falter’d, the chanting passed away In the fragrant depths of the woodland, and died with the dying day.

No spirits in truth! yet it seem’d, as awhile in dreams I stood, That a music more than earthly had passed through the dark’ning wood.

And it seemed that the Day to the Morrow bequeathed in that solemn strain The whole world’s hope and labour, its love, and its ancient pain.

IN MEMORIAM: J. T. C. H.

In hours of respite from the strife That kills the careless joy of life, How often, friend, have you and I Lived o’er those golden days gone by, When eager hand and eager eye Against the humming salt sea-breeze Drove our light craft through breaking seas; Or when beneath enchanted woods We floated, where the shadow broods On still black waters, and delayed A little in the chequer’d shade To watch, far down the shining stream, The golden summer sunlight gleam On the green banks of storied Boyne. Ah, in those happy days how well Did wood and field and water join To weave the wild earth’s mighty spell! Gone, gone! and you are also gone, On dark tides that you sailed alone; And scarcely more for you than me Those days are done! O, morning sea, Where all the morning in our blood Sang, as we faced the glittering flood! O, bays the wild sea-murmur fills, And hot gorse-perfume from the hills! O, lonely places, echoing With sound of waters, wave or stream, Haunted by timid foot and wing, I see you now but in a dream-- Old days, old friends, we part, we part; Yet still your memory in my heart Lives, till the heart be dust; and then Beyond this realm of Where and When, Something of you shall linger yet, And something in me not forget, When all the suns of earth have set.

TRANSLATIONS

THE BATTLE OF SALAMIS

_From “The Persians” of Aeschylus_

[Except for inscriptions, this contemporary narrative of the Battle of Salamis is the earliest piece of written Greek history extant. The splendour and force of the original make it one of the greatest pieces of battle-narrative in the world, and defy adequate rendering. But it is noticeable that not only is the description ablaze with the passion of war, but the plan and tactics of the fight, which was probably even a more decisive event in world-history than that of Marathon, are given with a map-like precision and clearness.

The narrative is placed in the mouth of a messenger sent by Xerxes to his mother, Atossa, to tell her of the catastrophe. I have followed the text of Paley.]

ATOSSA

And is Athena’s city yet unsacked?

MESSENGER

Men were her city-wall--unbroken yet.

ATOSSA

Then tell me of the fight at Salamis. Who first began the onslaught--was’t the Greeks? Or made his swollen fleet my son too bold?

MESSENGER

Began? Some Power malign began it all! Some God that hated Persia. First, there came A Greek deserter from the Athenian host. “Keep watch,” he said, “for at the dead of night Our benches shall be manned, our fleet dispersed; They will escape you in the narrow seas.” This Xerxes heard, O Queen, and never saw The Greek man’s guile, nor knew the Gods his foe. To all the captains of the fleet he sent This order: “When the sun his fiery beams Hath hidden from the earth, and night holds all The empire of the air, then set your ships, Some ranged in threefold line to guard the friths And close up all the roaring waterways, Some to patrol the Isle of Salamis. And mark ye, should the Greeks escape their doom By one unguarded outlet, ’tis decreed Your heads shall fall for it.” So spake the King, Haughty, infatuate, knowing not the end. And dutifully they obeyed his word. Supper was first prepared; each oarsman then Looked to his tholepin and bound fast the oar. Then, as the sunlight faded from the earth, And night came on, the rowers went on board, And with them every well-trained fighting man; And soon from squadron unto squadron rolled Down the vast lines the cheering of the fleet, As each one rowed to his appointed place. So all night long the captains made us cruise Hither and thither, every ship we had; And now the night was spent, yet never once The Greeks had tried our watch in secret flight. But when the white steeds of the God of Day Mounted the sky, and light possessed the land, Then from the Greeks a mighty chant was borne, Triumphant, to our ears, and every cliff Of sea-girt Salamis pealed back the strain. And fear possessed us every one, O Queen, And staggering doubt; for not as if in flight Rose the great pæan then among the Greeks, But as when brave men cheer themselves for fight. Then the heart-kindling trumpet spake, and then We heard the thunder of a thousand oars That swung together at the steersman’s cry, And all at once the sounding furrows smote. Then soon full clear their charging line we saw, The right wing leading, and the main array A little after; and ere long we heard Such cries as these: “On, children of the Greek! Now for your fatherland, for freedom now! For wife and child, and for your fathers’ homes! Now for the temples of your fathers’ Gods! To-day we fight for all!” So cried they still, Nor were we Persians dumb, but sent them back Shouting for shouting. Little time there was To range our lines, until the brazen beaks Crash’d in among us. First, a ship of Greece, Leading the onset, rent off all the prow From a Phœnician. Each then sought a foe; And first we stemm’d the torrent of their charge, But soon our multitudes in the narrow seas Were thronged and hampered, nor could any now Bear help to other--yea, and many a time Friend hurtled upon friend, or rent away With shearing prow her whole array of oars. Meanwhile the Greeks around us fiercely charged From every side at once; the lighter barques Were soon o’erset; the very seas were hid, So strewn with wreck and slaughter; every strand And jutting rock-ledge was with corpses piled. We pressed in ruinous disordered flight, All that was left of Persia’s mighty fleet; While they, like fishers when the tunnies swarm Within some narrow inlet, slew amain With aught that hand could seize--with shivered oars, Fragments of wreck, they stabb’d, they stunn’d, they clove; And out beyond the channel shrieks and wails And panic fear possessed the open sea. Gods! could I speak, nor cease for ten full days, I had not told how thick disasters came! Know this, that never since the world began Perished in one day such a host of men!

THE DEAD AT CLONMACNOIS

_From the Irish of Angus O’Gillan_

In a quiet-water’d land, a land of roses, Stands Saint Kieran’s city fair, And the warriors of Erinn in their famous generations Slumber there.

There beneath the dewy hillside sleep the noblest Of the Clan of Conn, Each below his stone: his name in branching Ogham And the sacred knot thereon.

There they laid to rest the Seven Kings of Tara, There the sons of Cairbrè sleep-- Battle-banners of the Gael, that in Kieran’s plain of crosses Now their final hosting keep.

And in Clonmacnois they laid the men of Teffia, And right many a lord of Breagh; Deep the sod above Clan Creidè and Clan Connall, Kind in hall and fierce in fray.

Many and many a son of Conn the Hundred-Fighter In the red earth lies at rest; Many a blue eye of Clan Colman the turf covers, Many a swan-white breast.

SONG OF FINN IN PRAISE OF MAY[5]

_From the Irish._

May Day! delightful day! Bright colours play the vales along. Now wakes at morning’s slender ray, Wild and gay, the blackbird’s song.

Now comes the bird of dusty hue, The loud cuckoo, the summer-lover; Branching trees are thick with leaves; The bitter, evil time is over.

Swift horses gather nigh Where half dry the river goes; Tufted heather crowns the height; Weak and white the bogdown blows.

Corncrake sings from eve till morn, Deep in corn, a strenuous bard! Sings the virgin waterfall, White and tall, her one sweet word.

Loaded bees of little power Goodly flower-harvest win; Cattle roam with muddy flanks; Busy ants go out and in.

Through the wild harp of the wood Making music roars the gale-- Now it slumbers without motion, On the ocean sleeps the sail.

Men grow mighty in the May, Proud and gay the maidens grow; Fair is every wooded height, Fair and bright the plain below.

A bright shaft has smit the streams, With gold gleams the water-flag; Leaps the fish, and on the hills Ardour thrills the flying stag;

And you long to reach the courses Where the slim swift horses race, And the crowd is ranked applauding Deep about the meeting-place.

Carols loud the lark on high, Small and shy, his tireless lay, Singing in wildest, merriest mood Of delicate-hued, delightful May.

FOOTNOTE:

[5] I am much indebted to the beautiful prose translation of this song by Dr. Kuno Meyer which appears in _Ériu_ (the Journal of the School of Irish Learning), vol. i., Part ii. In my free poetic version an attempt has been made to render the rhyming and metrical effect of the original, which is believed to date from about the ninth century.

WENN ICH AN DEINEM HAUSE

_From the German of Heinrich Heine_

I Pass beneath thy dwelling Each morning, and am fain, My child, to see thee watching Still at thy window-pane.

With black-brown eyes of wonder Thou dost my going scan: “Who art thou, and what ails thee, Thou sorrowful foreign man?”

I am a German poet, Among the Germans famed-- There, when they count their greatest, My name is also named.

And, little one, what ails me Ails Germans not a few; Count they the sorest sorrows, They name my sorrows too.

EIN FICHTENBAUM STEHT EINSAM

_From the German of Heinrich Heine_

There stands a lonely Pine-tree On a bare northern height. ’Mid ice and snow he slumbers, Wrapped in his mantle white.

He dreams about a Palm-tree In far-off Eastern lands, That droops, alone and silent, Above her burning sands.

ZWEI KAMMERN HAT DAS HERZ

_From the German of P. Neumann_

μάλα γέ τοι τὸ μεγάλας ὑγεΐας ἀκόρεστον τέρμα, νόσος γὰρ ἀεὶ γείτων ὁμότοιχος ἐρείδει.

Æsch., _Ag._

Two chambers hath the heart: There dwelling Live Joy and Pain apart.

Is Joy in one awake? Then only Doth Pain his slumber take.

Joy, in thine hour, refrain-- Speak softly, Lest thou awaken Pain.

LADY ISLAND, ON THE CHIEMSEE, BAVARIA

_From the German of Victor Scheffel_

O’er the placid lake at even glides our boat, alone and slow, In the sunset stand empurpled domes of everlasting snow, From an island in the twilight dimly rise a convent’s walls: With the chimes the chant of vespers from the grey old minster falls-- _Sempiterni Fons amoris, Consolatrix tristium, Pia Mater Salvatoris, ave Virgo virginum!_ Softly rising, falling, mingling, dying, comes the solemn song, And in dreamy undulations air and lake the tones prolong. Still the oars, and still the heart in worship, as the sweet bells toll, And I feel as though God’s angels bore to heaven a blessèd soul.

THE THREE RINGS: A FABLE

_From Lessing’s “Nathan der Weise”_[6]

[Since Plato, no writer has understood better than Lessing the dramatic conduct of a philosophic dialogue. The following colloquy is a beautiful example of his art and of his thought.

Nathan is a Jew, famed for his wealth and for his wisdom, living in Jerusalem at the time of the Third Crusade. In the following scene he has just been summoned to the presence of the Sultan Saladin. He supposes that a loan of money is the Sultan’s object. Instead of this, he finds that it is his reputed wisdom which has gained him the interview. Nathan is a man who cannot have taken his beliefs in spiritual things without examination; here, then, says Saladin, are three faiths contending for mastery, the Jewish, the Christian, and the Mahommedan. Each claims to be the true and only true religion. The claim cannot be true of more than one of them. Which of them, in his inmost soul, does Nathan hold to be justified? That he may have time to collect his thoughts, Saladin leaves the Jew alone for a while before he answers. Nathan, who does not yet know Saladin, is at first very doubtful of the _bona fides_ of the Musalman prince in making this inquiry of him.]

ACT III, SCENE 6

NATHAN (_alone_)

H’m, h’m. A strange request. Where do I stand? What will the Sultan with me ... what? I come Prepared for money, and he asks for ... Truth! And this he needs must have as bare and bright As if the truth were coin!... Aye, were it coin, Old, well-worn coin, that men tell out by weight, Such might I find him! But new-minted coin-- The stamp’s enough: you fling it on the board And there’s an end--not thus can Truth be told! Doth he conceive that truth is to be poured From head to head like gold into a bag? Who’s here the Jew, I or the Sultan?... Yet Suppose in very truth he asks for Truth? How then? And verily it were too little, Too paltry a suspicion, to believe He used the truth but as a snare.... Too little! Ah, what is then too little for the great? Why should he break into my house? A friend Would surely knock and listen at the door Before he entered. I must tread with care. But how? but how? To play the stolid Jew, That ne’er will pass ... still less, no Jew at all; For ‘then’ he’ll say, ‘why not a Musalman?’ Let me think.... Ha! I have it now. That saves me! Not children only can one satisfy With fables.... He is coming. Let him come!

_Enter Saladin._

SALADIN

I have not come too quickly? Thou hast brought Thy meditation to an end? Then speak! None hears but I.

NATHAN

Nay, all the world may hear For aught I care!

SALADIN

So clear and confident Is Nathan in his wisdom? Ha! this I deem To be a sage indeed! Nothing to hide, Never to palter--but to stake his life, His blood, his goods, and all, upon the truth!

NATHAN

Yea ... if need were ... and if the truth were served....

SALADIN

One of my titles, Betterer of the World And of the Law, I hope from this day forth To bear with right.

NATHAN

Truly, a noble title! Yet, Sultan, ere I trust myself with thee, Wholly and unreserved, I ask thee first To hear a fable from me.

SALADIN

Wherefore not? From childhood I have ever loved to hear Fables, well told.

NATHAN

Well told? ah, that indeed Is scarce a quality of mine!

SALADIN

Again So proudly modest? Well, speak on, speak on!

NATHAN

In the grey morn of Time, there lived i’ the East A man, who owned a ring of priceless worth, Gift of a well-loved hand. For stone it bore An opal, where a hundred lovely tints Played, and where dwelt the magic power to make Well-pleasing in the sight of God and man Whoever wore it in this faith--What wonder It never left the owner’s hand? what wonder He made provision to retain it ever In his own House, an heirloom for all time? Thus did he order it: He left the Ring First to his best-belovèd son, ordaining That he in turn should leave it to the son He dearliest loved; and so to the dearest ever. And still the owner of the Ring, apart From precedence of birth, by that alone Should bear the sway.... Sultan, you follow me?

SALADIN

I follow thee. Proceed!

NATHAN

And so the Ring Descended, till at length it came to one Who had three sons, all dutiful alike, Whom therefore he, perforce, must love alike; Only, from time to time the first would seem Most worthy of the Ring, and then the next, And then again the third,--as each he found Alone with him, the other two not by To share his overflowing love. To each His heart’s fond weakness made him pledge the Ring. Thus all went smoothly ... while it could. But now His time to die draws near, and, sore perplexed, The good man rues that two of the three sons That trusted in his word, must soon be left Deceived, affronted.... Mark, now, his device! All secretly he summons to his aid A cunning craftsman, and commands him fashion After the pattern of his Ring, two others; No cost, no labour to be spared, to make them Like to the first, in every point alike. And so ’tis done; and when the craftsman brings The finished work, not even the father’s eye Can tell his own ring from the copies. Now Joyfully doth he summon to his side His three sons, one by one, and, one by one, Gives each his blessing--and a ring--and dies. Sultan, thou hearest me?

SALADIN

Yes, yes, I hear! Come, will thy fable soon be told?

NATHAN

’Tis told Already, for the rest is evident. Scarce is the father dead when comes each son Bearing his ring, and claims to be the lord And ruler of the house! What follows then? Examinations, quarrellings, complaints-- In vain! Among the rings, the one true Ring Remains for all eyes indistinguishable.--

[_After a pause in which he waits for the Sultan’s reply._

Well-nigh as indistinguishable, Sultan, As here, for us, to-day, the one true Faith.

SALADIN

How? This shall be thine answer to my question?

NATHAN

Nay, this shall but excuse me, if I trust not My judgment to decide among the rings, Made by the Father to the very intent That they should never be distinguished.

SALADIN

Yea, The rings!... Thou playest with me! I had deemed The three religions, whereof question is, Were easily distinguished, even to points Of food, and drink, and clothing!

NATHAN

Only not In this one thing--their proofs. All rest alike On history, or written or handed down. And history we take--is it not so?-- On faith and trust alone. Whose faith, whose truth, Shall we confide in most? Surely in those Of our own folk, whose blood we are, whose proofs Of love were given us from our childhood up, Who ne’er deceived us, saving when, perchance, ’Twere better for our weal. If this be so, How can I less in my forefathers trust Than thou in thine? Or take the other side: Can I demand from thee that thou shouldst charge Thine ancestors with lying, but for this, That mine be justified? Again, the Christian To both of us may plead the like defence. Art thou not answered?

SALADIN (_aside_)

By the living God The man is right! I must be dumb.

NATHAN

Now turn we Back to our rings again.--I said, the sons Made their complaints: each one before the Judge Made oath that from his father’s very hand He had the Ring--and so in truth he had-- After his father’s promise, long before, That one day he should own the Ring and all Its rights--and this no less was true. The father, Each one averr’d, could ne’er have played him false. Rather than credit this--rather than nurse Against so loved a father, such a thought, How fain soever he had been to think Nothing but good of them, he must believe His brothers guilty of foul treachery. But surely one day he would find a way To unmask the villains--he would be avenged!

SALADIN

And now, the Judge? I am intent to hear What thou wilt put into his mouth. Speak on!

NATHAN

On this wise spake the Judge: “Either ye bring Right soon your father here before me, else I spurn you from my seat. What! think ye I Am here to answer riddles? Or do ye wait Until the true Ring find a tongue and speak? Yet stay! ’Tis said that in the true Ring lives A magic gift, to make the owner loved-- Well-pleasing before God and man. So good, This shall decide the cause; for never, surely, In this the false can emulate the true. Which of the three of ye is best beloved By the other twain? Marry, speak out! Ye are dumb! Mysterious power, that only backward works, Not outward from within! Lo, each of you Loves best of all--himself! So are ye all Deceived, and all deceivers. All your rings Are manifestly false. Belike the true Was irrecoverably lost; and so Your father, to conceal the loss, made three In place of one.”

SALADIN

Excellent, excellent!

NATHAN

“And so,” the Judge continued, “if ye now Are bent on Law, on that alone, and counsel Such as I can, will none--I bid you hence. But, if I counselled you, my rede were this: Take ye the matter simply as it lies. Each from your father had his ring--let each Be well persuaded that the ring he holds Is the true Ring. It may be that your father Was minded to maintain the tyranny Of the one Ring no longer. And ’tis certain He loved you all, and loved you each alike. Would not have one exalted, one oppressed. Mark that! and be it yours to emulate His great impartial love. Strive, each of you, To show the Ring’s benignant might his own; Yea, help the mystic power to do its kind, With gentleness, with loving courtesy, Beneficence to man, and unto God The deep devotion of the inmost soul. And when, full many a generation hence, Within your children’s children’s children’s hearts The mystery of the Ring is manifest, Lo! in a thousand thousand years, again Before this judgment-seat I summon you, Where one more wise than I shall sit and speak. Now go your ways.” So spake the modest Judge.

SALADIN

God! God!

NATHAN

And now, O Saladin, if thou Art confident that thou indeed art he, The wise, the promised Judge....

SALADIN

I? dust! I? nothing! O God!

NATHAN

What moves the Sultan?

SALADIN

Nathan, Nathan, The thousand thousand years are not yet done! Not mine that judgment-seat! Enough--farewell! But henceforth be my friend.

FOOTNOTE:

[6] The concluding twenty lines of this translation have appeared in the writer’s “Life of Lessing” (Walter Scott).

FINIS.

Transcriber's notes:

Italic text is marked with _underscores_.

A small number of long lines of poetry (greater than 72 characters) have been broken into two lines, which is made apparent by the extreme right indentation of the broken line (e.g. the lines containing “flames into blossom”).