Purcell Ode, and Other Poems

Myriad-voicèd Queen, Enchantress of the air, Bride of the life of man! with tuneful reed, With string and horn and high-adoring quire Thy welcome we prepare. In silver-speaking mirrors of desire, In joyous ravishment of mystery draw thou near; With heavenly echo of thoughts, that dreaming lie Chain’d in unborn oblivion drear, Thy many-hearted grace restore Unto our isle our own to be, And make again our Graces three.

II.

Turn, oh, return! In merry England Foster’d thou wert with infant Liberty. Her hallowed oaks that stand With trembling leaves and giant heart Drinking in beauty from the summer moon, Her wildwood, once was dear to thee.

There the birds with tiny art Earth’s immemorial cradle-tune Warble at dawn to fern and fawn, In the budding thickets making merry; And for their love the primrose faint Floods the green shade with youthful scent.

Come, thy jocund spring renew By hyacinthine lakes of blue: Thy beauty shall enchant the buxom May; And all the summer months shall strew thy way, And rose and honeysuckle rear Their flowery screens, till under fruit and berry The tall brake groweth golden with the year.

III.

Thee fair Poetry oft hath sought, Wandering lone in wayward thought, On level meads by gliding streams, When summer noon is full of dreams: And thy loved airs her soul invade, Haunting retired the willow shade.

Or in some wallèd orchard nook She communes with her ancient book, Beneath the branches laden low; While the high sun o’er bosom’d snow Smiteth all day the long hill-side, With ripening cornfields waving wide.

There if thou linger all the year, No jar of man shall reach thine ear, Or sweetly come, as when the sound From hidden villages around, Threading the woody knolls, is borne Of bells that dong the Sabbath morn.

IV.

I.

The sea with melancholy war Moateth about our castled shore; His world-wide elemental moan Girdeth our lives with tragic zone.

He, ere men dared his watery path, Fenced them aloof in wrath; Their jealous brotherhoods Sund’ring with bitter floods; Till science grew and skill, And their adventurous will Challenged his boundaries, and went free To know the round world, and the sea From midday night to midnight sun Binding all nations into one.

II.

Yet shall his storm and mastering wave Assure the empire to the brave; And to his billowy bass belongs The music of our patriot songs, When to the wind his ridges go In furious following, careering a-row, Lasht with hail and withering snow; And ever undaunted hearts outride His rushing waters wide.

III.

But when the winds, fatigued or fled, Have left the drooping barks unsped, And nothing stirs his idle plain Save fire-breathed ships with silvery train, While lovingly his waves he layeth, And his slow heart in passion swells To the pale moon in heav’n that strayeth, And all his mighty music deep Whispers among the heapèd shells, Or in dark caverns lies asleep, Then dreams of Peace invite, Haunting our shore with kisses light; Nay, even Love’s Paphian Queen hath come Out of her long-retirèd home To show again her beauty bright, And twice or thrice in sight hath play’d Of a young lover unaffray’d, And all his verse immortal made.

V.

I.

Love to Love calleth, Love unto Love replieth: From the ends of the earth, drawn by invisible bands, Over the dawning and darkening lands, Love cometh to Love;

To the pangs of desire; To the heart by courage and might Escaped from hell, From the torment of raging fire, From the sighs of the drowning main, From shipwreck of fear and pain, From the terror of night.

II.

All mankind by Love shall be banded To combat Evil, the many-handed; For the spirit of man on beauty feedeth, The airy fancy he heedeth, He regardeth Truth in the heavenly height, In changeful pavilions of loveliness dight, The sovran sun that knows not the night; He loveth the beauty of earth, And the sweet birds’ mirth; And out of his heart there falleth A melody-making river Of passion, that runneth ever To the ends of the earth and crieth, That yearneth and calleth; And Love from the heart of man To the heart of man replieth: On the wings of desire Love cometh to Love.

VI.

I.

To me, to me, fair-hearted Goddess, come, To Sorrow come, Where by the grave I linger dumb; With Sorrow bow thine head, For all my beauty is dead. Leave Freedom’s vaunt and playful thought awhile; Come with thine unimpassioned smile Of heavenly peace, and with thy fourfold choir Of fair, uncloying harmony, Unveil the palaces where man’s desire Keepeth celestial solemnity.

II.

Lament, fair-hearted queen, lament with me; For when thy seer died no song was sung, Nor for our heroes fall’n by land or sea Hath honor found a tongue, Nor aught of beauty for their tomb can frame Worthy their noble name. Let Mirth go bare; make mute thy dancing string; With thy majestic consolation Sweeten our suffering. Speak thou my woe, that from her pain My spirit arise to see again The Truth unknown that keeps our faith, The Beauty unseen that bates our breath, The heaven that doth our joy renew, And drinketh up our tears as dew.

VII.

DIRGE.

Man born of desire Cometh out of the night, A wandering spark of fire, A lonely word of eternal thought, Echoing in chance and forgot.

I.

He seeth the sun, He calleth the stars by name, He saluteth the flowers. Wonders of land and sea, The mountain towers Of ice and air He seeth, and calleth them fair. Then he hideth his face:-- Whence he came to pass away Where all is forgot, Unmade,--lost for aye With the things that are not.

II.

He striveth to know, To unravel the Mind That veileth in horror; He wills to adore; In wisdom he walketh And loveth his kind; His laboring breath Would keep evermore. Then he hideth his face:-- Whence he came to pass away Where all is forgot, Unmade,--lost for aye With the things that are not.

III.

He dreameth of beauty, He seeks to create Fairer and fairer, To vanquish his fate; No hindrance he, No curse will brook; He maketh a law No ill shall be.

Then he hideth his face:-- Whence he came to pass away Where all is forgot, Unmade,--lost for aye With the things that are not.

VIII.

Rejoice, ye dead, where’er your spirits dwell; Rejoice that yet on earth your fame is bright, And that your names, remembered day and night, Live on the lips of those who love you well. ’Tis ye that conquered have the powers of Hell Each with the special grace of your delight; Ye are the world’s creators, and by might Alone of heavenly love ye did excel.