The Project Gutenberg eBook of Primavera, by Laurence Binyon et al.

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at https://www.gutenberg.org/license. If you are not located in the United States, you’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Primavera

Subtitle: Poems by Four Authors

Author: Laurence Binyon et al.

Release Date: September 4, 2006 [EBook #19170]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ***

PRIMAVERA: POEMS

BY FOUR AUTHORS

PORTLAND MAINE PUBLISHED

BY THOMAS B MOSHER AT XLV

EXCHANGE STREET MDCCCC

PREFACE

Primavera: Poems, by Four Authors. Oxford:

Published by B. H. Blackwell, Broad Street.

MDCCCXC. (Fcap 8vo, pp. 43.)

Such is the title of a little 'book of verses' that at the time found favour in the eyes of a few discerning critics, and then, apparently, was forgotten. As originally issued its dark brown paper wrapper was adorned with a simple but effective woodcut design by Mr. Selwyn Image, which we have reproduced on our first half-title. Even more fortunate has been the discovery of a signed review in the pages of the Academy for August 9, 1890, by the late John Addington Symonds. As a preface nothing could be better. And in this connexion the lines which we prefix from Guarini are also singularly appropriate. For these songs of Youth are still worth while; they thrill and fill us as of yesterday with their haunting sense of vanished love, of

'Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips

Bidding adieu.'

PREFACE

This little book was written by four friends, three of them under-graduates at Oxford, and all of them penetrated with the spirit of the higher culture of our time. The poems, it is clear, have been carefully selected; and, it is probable, have been diligently polished. There is not one which is not remarkable for delicacy of style and conscious aiming after excellence in art. Whether these qualities promise well for future achievement and development is a question open to debate. But there can be no doubt that in Primavera we possess another of those tiny verse-books like Ionica, or Mr. Percy Pinkerton's Galeazzo, which will not lose in freshness and in perfume as the years go by.

The poems have the distinction of making one wish to be acquainted with their authors. Though they differ a good deal in mental tone, perhaps also somewhat in literary merit, they possess marked common characteristics: a restrained refinement, a subdued reserve, a gentle melancholy; the note of the latest Anglican æsthetic school. We find no humour, no Sturm und Drang, no inequalities and incoherences of passion. Even where it is obvious that the emotion has been intense, possibly of a rare and peculiar strain, as in Mr. Binyon's "Testamentum Amoris" and Mr. Phillips's "To a Lost Love," the expression of it obeys no violence of impulse. A tender tone of regret, rather than of acute grief, steeps these stanzas (to quote one instance) addressed to a friend removed into the spiritual world by death.

"Oh, thou art cold! In that high sphere

Thou art a thing apart,

Losing in saner happiness

This madness of the heart.

"And yet, at times, thou still shalt feel

A passing breath, a pain;

Disturb'd, as though a door in heaven

Had oped and closed again.

"And thou shalt shiver, while the hymns,

The solemn hymns, shall cease;

A moment half remember me;

Then turn away to peace."

It would be invidious to institute critical comparisons between the styles of these four friends and their respective merits. It may, however, be remarked that Mr. Manmohan Ghose's work possesses a peculiar interest on account of its really notable command of the subtleties of English prosody and diction, combined with just a touch of foreign feeling. The artful employment of imperfect rhymes in "Raymond and Ida" illustrates what I mean. Occasionally, too, Mr. Ghose produces exactly the right phrase by means of a felicitous simplicity. Notice the line which I have italicised in the following stanza:

"In the deep West the heavens grow heavenlier,

Eve after eve; and still

The glorious stars remember to appear;

The roses on the hill

Are fragrant as before;

Only thy face, of all that's dear,

I shall see nevermore!"

Take, again, these two lines:

"Forget the shining of the stars, forget

The vernal visitation of the rose."

There is but one piece of blank verse in the book. This prologue to "Orestes," by Mr. Stephen Phillips, has strength, is firm in outline, somewhat tardy in movement, fit for sonorous declamation. The gravity which I have indicated as a ruling quality of all these youthful compositions makes itself felt here in its proper place. We might have wished, perhaps, for more of joyous accent in the ode to "Youth," by Mr. Laurence Binyon, which dwells less on the rapture of youth than on its sadness—the melancholy of Theognis over youth's decay:

"O bright new-comer, filled with thoughts of joy,

Joy to be thine amid these pleasant plains,

Know'st thou not, child, what surely coming pains

Await thee, for that eager heart's annoy?

Misunderstanding, disappointment, tears,

Wronged love, spoiled hope, mistrust and ageing fears,

Eternal longing for one perfect friend,

And unavailing wishes without end?"

Mr. Cripps alone permits his Muse a gravely jocund note in his "Seasons' Comfort." He, too, of the four fellow-versifiers shows the greater aptitude for experiments, though it may perhaps be felt that his touch is nowhere quite so sure, nor his artistic feeling so direct as theirs.

It is difficult to lay the critic's hand lightly enough upon poems like these, or to make it clear what particular attraction they possess. With all the charm of rathe spring-flowers, they suggest the possibilities of varied personality not yet accentuated in the authors. Let us hope that the four Muses of the four friends will not, like the primroses,

"die unmarried ere they can behold

Bright Phœbus in his strength,"

but that we shall profit by their summer-songs, while ever remaining grateful for their Primavera.

JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS.

August, 1890.

PRIMAVERA

Primavera, gioventù de l' anno,

Bella madre de' fiori,

D'erbe novelle e di novelli amori,

Tu torni ben; ma teco

Non tornano i sereni

E fortunati dì de le mie gioje:

Tu torni ben, tu torni,

Ma teco altro non torna

Che del perduto mio caro tesoro

La rimembranza misera e dolente:

Tu quella sei, tu quella,

Ch'era pur dianzi si vezzosa e bella;

Ma non son io già quel ch'un tempo fui,

Sì caro a gli occhi altrui.

GUARINI. Pastor Fido, Atto iii, Sc. I.

POEMS

o Muse will I invoke; for she is fled!

Lo! where she sits, breathing, yet all but dead.

She loved the heavens of old, she thought them fair;

And dream'd of Gods in Tempe's golden air.

For her the wind had voice, the sea its cry;

She deem'd heroic Greece could never die.

Breathless was she, to think what nymphs might play

In clear green depths, deep-shaded from the day;

She thought the dim and inarticulate god

Was beautiful, nor knew she man a sod;

But hoped what seem'd might not be all untrue,

And feared to look beyond the eternal blue.

But now the heavens are bared of dreams divine.

Still murmurs she, like Autumn, This was mine!

How should she face the ghastly, jarring Truth,

That questions all, and tramples without ruth?

And still she clings to Ida of her dreams,

And sobs, Ah! let the world be what it seems!

Then the shy nymph shall softly come again;

The world, once more, make music for her pain.

For, sitting in the dim and ghostly night,

She fain would stay the strong approach of light;

While later bards cleave to her, and believe

That in her sorrow she can still conceive!

Oh, let her dream; still lovely is her sigh;

Oh, rouse her not, or she shall surely die.

STEPHEN PHILLIPS.

YOUTH

hen life begins anew,

And Youth, from gathering flowers,

From vague delights, rapt musings, twilight hours,

Turns restless, seeking some great deed to do,

To sum his foster'd dreams; when that fresh birth

Unveils the real, the throng'd and spacious Earth,

And he awakes to those more ample skies,

By other aims and by new powers possess'd:

How deeply, then, his breast

Is fill'd with pangs of longing! how his eyes

Drink in the enchanted prospect! Fair it lies

Before him, with its plains expanding vast,

Peopled with visions, and enrich'd with dreams;

Dim cities, ancient forests, winding streams,

Places resounding in the famous past,

A kingdom ready to his hand!

How like a bride Life seems to stand

In welcome, and with festal robes array'd!

He feels her loveliness pervade

And pierce him with inexplicable sweetness;

And, in her smiles delighting, and the fires

Of his own pulses, passionate soul!

Measures his strength by his desires,

And the wide future by their fleetness,

As his thought leaps to the long-distant goal.

So eagerly across that unknown span

Of years he gazes: what, to him,

Are bounds and barriers, tales of Destiny,

Death, and the fabled impotence of man?

Already, in his marching dream,

Men at his sun-like coming seem

As with an inspiration stirr'd, and he

To kindle with new thoughts degenerate nations,

In sordid cares immersed so long;

Thrill'd with ethereal exultations

And a victorious expectancy,

Even such as swell'd the breasts of Bacchus' throng,

When that triumphal burst of joy was hurl'd

Upon the wondering world;

When from the storied, sacred East afar,

Down Indian gorges clothed in green,

With flower-rein'd tigers and with ivory car

He came, the youthful god;

Beautiful Bacchus, ivy-crown'd, his hair

Blown on the wind, and flush'd limbs bare,

And lips apart, and radiant eyes,

And ears that caught the coming melodies,

As wave on wave of revellers swept abroad;

Wreathed with vine-leaves, shouting, trampling onwards,

With toss'd timbrel and loud tambourine.

Alas! the disenchanting years have roll'd

On hearts and minds becoming cold:

Mirth is gone from us; and the world is old.

O bright new-comer, fill'd with thoughts of joy,

Joy to be thine amid these pleasant plains,

Know'st thou not, child, what surely coming pains

Await thee, for that eager heart's annoy?

Misunderstanding, disappointment, tears,

Wrong'd love, spoil'd hope, mistrust and ageing fears,

Eternal longing for one perfect friend,

And unavailing wishes without end?

Thou proud and pure of spirit, how must thou bear

To have thine infinite hates and loves confined,

School'd, and despised? How keep unquench'd and free

'Mid others' commerce and economy

Such ample visions, oft in alien air

Tamed to the measure of the common kind?

How hard for thee, swept on, for ever hurl'd

From hour to hour, bewilder'd and forlorn,

To move with clear eyes and with steps secure,

To keep the light within, to fitly scorn

Those all too possible and easy goals,

Trivial ambitions of soon-sated souls!

And, patient in thy purpose, to endure

The pity and the wisdom of the world.

Vain, vain such warning to those happy ears!

Disturb not their delight! By unkind powers

Doom'd to keep pace with the relentless Hours,

He, too, ere long, shall feel Earth's glory change;

Familiar names shall take an accent strange,

A deeper meaning, a more human tone;

No more pass'd by, unheeded or unknown,

The things that then shall be beheld through tears.

Yet, O just Nature, thou

Who, if men's hearts be hard, art always mild;

O fields and streams, and places undefiled,

Let your sweet airs be ever on his brow,

Remember still your child.

Thou too, O human world, if old desires,

If thoughts, not alien once, can move thee now,

Teach him not yet that idly he aspires

Where thou hast fail'd; not soon let it be plain,

That all who seek in thee for nobler fires,

For generous passion, spend their hopes in vain:

Lest that insidious Fate, foe of mankind,

Who ever waits upon our weakness, try

With whispers his unnerved and faltering mind,

Palsy his powers; for she has spells to dry,

Like the March blast, his blood, turn flesh to stone,

And, conjuring action with necessity,

Freeze the quick will, and make him all her own.

Come, then, as ever, like the Wind at morning!

Joyous, O Youth, in the aged world renew

Freshness to feel the eternities around it,

Rains, stars, and clouds, light and the sacred dew.

The strong sun shines above thee:

That strength, that radiance bring!

If Winter come to Winter,

When shall men hope for Spring?

LAURENCE BINYON.

is my twentieth year: dim, now, youth stretches behind me;

Breaking fresh at my feet, lies, like an ocean, the world.

And despised seem, now, those quiet fields I have travell'd:

Eager to thee I turn, Life, and thy visions of joy.

Fame I see, with her wreath, far off approaching to crown me;

Love, whose starry eyes fever my heart with desire:

And impassion'd I yearn for the future, all unconscious,

Ah, poor dreamer! what ills life in its circle enfolds.

Not more restless the boy, whose eager, confident bosom

The wide, unknown sea fills with a hunger to roam.

Often beside the surge of the desolate ocean he paces;

Ingrate, dreams of a sky brighter, serener than his.

Passionate soul! light holds he a mother's tearful entreaties,

Lightly leaves he behind all the sad faces of home;

Never again, perchance, to behold them; lost in the tempest,

Or on some tropic shore dying in fever and pain!

MANMOHAN GHOSE.

TESTAMENTUM AMORIS

cannot raise my eyelids up from sleep,

But I am visited with thoughts of you;

Slumber has no refreshment half so deep

As the sweet morn, that wakes my heart anew.

I cannot put away life's trivial care,

But you straightway steal on me with delight:

My purest moments are your mirror fair;

My deepest thought finds you the truth most bright.

You are the lovely regent of my mind,

The constant sky to my unresting sea;

Yet, since 'tis you that rule me, I but find

A finer freedom in such tyranny.

Were the world's anxious kingdoms govern'd so,

Lost were their wrongs, and vanish'd half their woe!

LAURENCE BINYON.

AMAVIMUS, AMAMUS, AMABIMUS

ersephone, Persephone!

Still I fancy I can see

Thee amid the daffodils.

Golden wealth thy basket fills;

Golden blossoms at thy breast;

Golden hair that shames the West;

Golden sunlight round thy head!

Ah! the golden years have fled;

Thee have reft, and me have left

Here alone, thy loss to mourn.

Persephone, Persephone!

Still I fancy I can see

Her, as white and still she lies:

Death has woo'd and won his prize.

White the blossoms at her breast;

White and still her face at rest;

White the moonbeams round her head.

Ah! the wintry years have fled;

Comfort lent and patience sent,

And my grief is easier borne.

Persephone, Persephone!

Still in dreams thou com'st to me;

Every night art at my side,

Half my bride, and half Death's bride!

Golden blossoms at thy breast;

Golden hair that shames the West;

Golden sunlight circling thee!

Half of gold the lone years flee:

Night is glad, though day is sad,

Till I go where thou art gone.

ARTHUR S. CRIPPS.

TO A LOST LOVE

cannot look upon thy grave,

Though there the rose is sweet:

Better to hear the long wave wash

These wastes about my feet!

Shall I take comfort? Dost thou live

A spirit, though afar,

With a deep hush about thee, like

The stillness round a star?

Oh, thou art cold! In that high sphere

Thou art a thing apart,

Losing in saner happiness

This madness of the heart.

And yet, at times, thou still shalt feel

A passing breath, a pain;

Disturb'd, as though a door in heaven

Had oped and closed again.

And thou shalt shiver, while the hymns,

The solemn hymns, shall cease;

A moment half remember me:

Then turn away to peace.

But oh, for evermore thy look,

Thy laugh, thy charm, thy tone,

Thy sweet and wayward earthliness,

Dear trivial things, are gone!

Therefore I look not on thy grave,

Though there the rose is sweet;

But rather hear the loud wave wash

These wastes about my feet.

STEPHEN PHILLIPS.

RAYMOND AND IDA

Raymond.

earest, that sit'st in dreams,

Through the window look, this way.

How changed and desolate seems

The world, Ida, to-day!

Heavy and low the sky is glooming:

Winter is coming!

Ida.

My dreaming heart is stirr'd:

Sadly the winter comes!

The wind is loud: how weird,

Heard in these darken'd rooms!

Speak to me, Raymond; ease this dread:

I am afraid, afraid.

Raymond.

Love, what is this? Like snow

Thy cheeks feel, snow they wear.

What ails my darling so?

What is it thou dost hear?

Close, close, thy soft arms cling to mine:

Tears on thy lashes shine.

Ida.

Hark! love, the wind wails by

The wet October trees,

Swaying them mournfully:

The wet leaves shower and cease.

And hark! how blows the weary rain,

Against the shaken pane.

Raymond.

Ah, yes, the world is drear

Outside; there is no rest.

But what can Ida fear,

Shelter'd upon my breast?

Heed not the storm-blast, beating wild,

I love thee, love thee, child.

Ida.

Thy breath is in my hair,

Thy kisses on my cheek;

Yet I scarce feel them there:

Faintly I hear thee speak.

My heart is dreaming far away,

In some sad, future day.

Raymond.

The future? In the mist

Of years what dost thou see?

O let that dark land rest:

Come back, come back to me!

Look up! How fix'd and vacant seem

Thine eyes; so deep they dream.

Ida.

To leave the blessed light:

Cold in the grave to lie!

No voice, no human sight:

Darkness and apathy!

To die! 'tis hard, ere youth is o'er;

But ah, to love no more!

Raymond.

What dream is this, alas!

O, if but for my sake,

Wake, darling; let this pass:

Ida, dear Ida, wake!

I cannot bear to see those tears:

Thy sad tones hurt my ears.

Ida.

Will he forget me, then,

When I am gone away?

'Twere best: to give him pain,

Let not my memory stay.

But O, even there, in Hades dim,

I would remember him.

Raymond.

Thou griev'st thyself in vain:

Sweet love, be comforted.

Come, leave this world of rain;

To the bright hearth turn thy head.

We have our fireside still, the same:

How cheerful is the flame!

Though darkness round us press;

Though wild, without, it blows;

Here sit thee, while thy face

In the happy firelight glows:

Clasp'd in my arms, lie tranquil here;

And listen, Ida dear.

As, from that outlook chill,

The glad hearth meets our sight,

A charm for every ill

We bear, a charm of might.

Ah, 'gainst its power not death shall stay!

Know'st thou it, darling, say?

Thou smilest! Joy, I see,

Dawns in thine eyes again:

Those cheeks of ivory

Their own sweet bloom regain.

Thou know'st that heavenly charm; how well,

Thy happy kisses tell!

MANMOHAN GHOSE.

PSYCHE

he is not fair, as some are fair,

Cold as the snow, as sunshine gay:

On her clear brow, come grief what may,

She suffers not too stern an air;

But, grave in silence, sweet in speech,

Loves neither mockery nor disdain;

Gentle to all, to all doth teach

The charm of deeming nothing vain.

She join'd me: and we wander'd on;

And I rejoiced, I cared not why,

Deeming it immortality

To walk with such a soul alone.

Primroses pale grew all around,

Violets, and moss, and ivy wild;

Yet, drinking sweetness from the ground,

I was but conscious that she smiled.

The wind blew all her shining hair

From her sweet brows; and she, the while,

Put back her lovely head, to smile

On my enchanted spirit there.

Jonquils and pansies round her head

Gleam'd softly; but a heavenlier hue

Upon her perfect cheek was shed,

And in her eyes a purer blue.

There came an end to break the spell;

She murmur'd something in my ear;

The words fell vague, I did not hear,

And ere I knew, I said farewell;

And homeward went, with happy heart

And spirit dwelling in a gleam,

Rapt to a Paradise apart,

With all the world become a dream.

Yet now, too soon, the world's strong strife

Breaks on me pitiless again;

The pride of passion, hopes made vain,

The wounds, the weariness, of life.

And losing that forgetful sphere,

For some less troubled world I sigh,

If not divine, more free, more clear,

Than this poor, soil'd humanity.

But when, in trances of the night,

Wakeful, my lonely bed I keep,

And linger at the gate of Sleep,

Fearing, lest dreams deny me light;

Her image comes into the gloom,

With her pale features moulded fair,

Her breathing beauty, morning bloom,

My heart's delight, my tongue's despair.

With loving hand she touches mine,

Showers her soft tresses on my brow,

And heals my heart, I know not how,

Bathing me with her looks divine.

She beckons me; and I arise;

And, grief no more remembering,

Wander again with rapturous eyes

Through those enchanted lands of Spring.

Then, as I walk with her in peace,

I leave this troubled air below,

Where, hurrying sadly to and fro,

Men toil, and strain, and cannot cease:

Then, freed from tyrannous Fate's control,

Untouch'd by years or grief, I see

Transfigured in that child-like soul

The soil'd soul of humanity.

LAURENCE BINYON.

A LAMENT

ver thy head, in joyful wanderings

Through heaven's wide spaces, free,

Birds fly with music in their wings;

And from the blue, rough sea

The fishes flash and leap;

There is a life of loveliest things

O'er thee, so fast asleep.

In the deep West the heavens grow heavenlier,

Eve after eve; and still

The glorious stars remember to appear;

The roses on the hill

Are fragrant as before:

Only thy face, of all that's dear,

I shall see nevermore!

MANMOHAN GHOSE.

UNDINES OF DIVERSE DAYS

I

he eyes of heaven were on her bent,

In a rapture of loving wonderment,

As her song with the nightingale's was blent:

And one yearn'd for a love, and one sigh'd for a soul!

Moonlight and starlight alike seemed cold,

As their silver glanced on her locks of gold;

And the dream on her face was a dream of old,

Whose sorrow no sunrise might smile away.

I read her yearning and weary smile,

As her song rang sadder and sadder the while,

With its weird refrain of a magic isle,

Where some might have rest, but never might she!

She, the darling of Sky and Stream,

She was but as wind, or as wave, or as dream,

To play for a while in life's glory and gleam:

But what would be left at the end of the day?

II

The sun smiles down upon her distress

With a tyrant smile most pitiless,

As she stitches away in her tatter'd dress,

With a song on her lips, that sinks in a sigh.

Yet, scorning her dusty window pane,

For all his pride, in love he is fain

Soft gold on her golden hair to rain;

But no sunlight may soften that soulless stare.

I read her yearning and weary sigh,

And the eyes that would be, but are not, dry;

And I catch the voice of that voiceless cry

For a moment to rest, for a moment to weep.

She, the darling of Want and Woe,

Why was she sent, save to work and to go

With feet that will ever more weary grow?

Whither? she has not a moment to care!

The Undine of olden days, I read,

By the love of a soul from her trammels was freed:

Knows there another such dolorous need?

Sure on the earth lingers yet such a soul!

ARTHUR S. CRIPPS.

A DREAM

y dead love came to me, and said,

'God gives me one hour's rest,

To spend with thee on earth again:

How shall we spend it best?'

'Why, as of old,' I said; and so

We quarrell'd, as of old:

But, when I turn'd to make my peace,

That one short hour was told.

STEPHEN PHILLIPS.

hou who hast follow'd far with eyes of love

The shy and virgin sights of Spring to-day,

Sad soul, what dost thou in this happy grove?

Hast thou no pipe to touch, no strain to play,

Where Nature smiles so fair and seems to ask a lay?

Ah! she needs none! she is too beautiful.

How should I sing her? for my heart would tire,

Seeking a lovelier verse each time to cull,

In striving still to pitch my music higher:

Lovelier than any muse is she who gives the fire!

No impulse I beseech; my strains are vile:

To escape thee, Nature, restless here I rove.

Look not so sweet on me, avert thy smile!

O cease at length this fever'd breast to move!

I have loved thee in vain; I cannot speak my love.

Here sense with apathy seems gently wed:

The gloom is starr'd with flowers; the unseen trees

Spread thick and softly real above my head;

And the far birds add music to the peace,

In this dark place of sleep, where whispers never cease.

Hush, then, my pipe; vain is thy passion here;

Vain is the burning bosom of desire!

Forever hush'd, let me this silence hear,

As a sad Muse in the melodious choir

Hushes her voice, to catch the happier voices by her.

Deep-shaded will I lie, and deeper yet

In night, where not a leaf its neighbour knows;

Forget the shining of the stars, forget

The vernal visitation of the rose;

And, far from all delights, prepare my heart's repose.

Strive how I may, I cannot slumber so:

Still burns that sleepless beauty on the mind;

Still insupportable those visions glow;

And hark! my spirit's aspirations find

An answer in the leaves, a warning on the wind.

'O crave not silence thou! too soon, too sure,

Shall Autumn come, and through these branches weep:

Soon birds shall cease, and flowers no more endure;

And thou beneath the mould unwilling creep,

And silent soon shalt be in that eternal sleep.

'Green still it is, where that fair goddess strays;

Then follow, till around thee all be sere.

Lose not a vision of her passing face;

Nor miss the sound of her soft robes, that here

Sweep over the wet leaves of the fast-falling year.'

MANMOHAN GHOSE.

ORESTES

e in far lands did Justice call, cold queen

Among the dead, who after heat and haste

At length have leisure for her steadfast voice,

That gathers peace from the great deeps of hell.

She call'd me, saying: 'I heard a cry by night!

Go thou, and question not; within thy halls

My will awaits fulfilment. Lo, the dead

Cries out before me in the under-world.

Seek not to justify thyself: in me

Be strong, and I will show thee wise in time;

For, though my face be dark, yet unto those

Who truly follow me through storm or shine,

For these the veil shall fall, and they shall see

They walked with Wisdom, though they knew her not.'

So sped I home; and from the under-world

Forever came a wind that fill'd my sails,

Cold, like a spirit! and ever her still voice

Spoke over shoreless seas and fathomless deeps,

And in great calms, as from a colder world;

Nor slack'd I sail by day, nor yet when night

Fell on my running keel, and now would burn,

With all her eyes, my errand into me.

So sped I on, fill'd with a voice divine:

And hardly wist I whom I was to slay,

My mother! but a vague, heroic dream

Possess'd me; fired to do the will of gods,

I lost the man in minister of Heaven;

Nor took I note of sandbank, nor of storm,

Nor of the ocean's thunders, when the shores

All round had faded, leaving me alone:

I knew I could not die, till I had slain!

But, when I came once more upon the land

That rear'd me, all the sweetness of old days

Came back on me: I stood, as from a dream

Waked to a sudden, sad reality.

And when, far off, I saw those ancient towers,

The palaces and places of my youth,

I long'd to fall into my mother's arms,

And tell a thousand tales of near escapes.

And lo! the nurse, that fondled me of yore,

Fell with glad tears upon my neck, and told

How she, and how my mother, all this while

Had dream'd of all I was to do, and said

How dear I should be to my mother's eyes.

Her words shook me, but shook not my resolve.

For even then there came that sterner voice,

Echoing to what was highest in the soul.

Then, like to those who have a work on earth,

And put far from them lips of wife or child,

And gird them to the accomplishment; so I

Strode in, nor saw at all mine ancient halls;

And struck my father's murderess, not my mother.

And, when I had smitten, lo, the strength of gods

Pass'd from me, and the old, familiar halls

Reel'd back on me; dim statues, that of old

Holding my mother's hand I marvell'd at,

And questioned her of each. And she lies there,

My mother! ay, my mother now; O hair

That once I play'd with in these halls! O eyes

That for a moment knew me as I came,

And lighten'd up, and trembled into love;

The next were darkened by my hand! Ah me!

Ye will not look upon me in that world.

Yet thou, perchance, art happier, if thou go'st

Into some land of wind and drifting leaves,

To sleep without a star; but as for me,

Hell hungers, and the restless Furies wait.

Then the dark Curse, that sits upon the towers,

Bow'd down her awful head, thus satisfied,

And I fled forth, a murderer, through the world.

STEPHEN PHILLIPS.

THE SEASONS' COMFORT

ry thine eyes, Doll! the stars above us shine;

God of His goodness made them mine and thine;

His silver have we gotten, and His gold,

Whilst there's a sun to call us in the morn

To ply the hook among amid the yellow corn,

That such a mine of pretty gems doth hold:

For there's the poppy half in sorrow,

Greeting sleepy-eyed the morrow,

And the corn-flower, dainty tire for a sweetheart sunny-poll'd.

Dry thine eyes, Doll! the woods are all our own,

The woods that soon shall take a braver tone,

What time the frosts first silver Nature's hair;

The birds shall sing their best for thee and me;

And every sunrise listeners will we be,

And so of singing get the goodliest share;

When the thrushes sing so sweetly,

We would fain be footing featly,

But our hearts dance time instead in the throbbing matin air.

Dry thine eyes, Doll! there's Love to feed our fire,

Not for the buying, but for the desire;

Winter ne'er quenched a blaze so bravely fed.

And Sleep, I wot, will grudge us not his best:

In winter earlier sink the suns to rest,

And eke the sooner shall our toils be sped;

When in the embers glowing

There'll be love-charms worth the knowing,

Or, at Yule-tide, mazes threaded, with the mistletoe o'erhead.

ARTHUR S. CRIPPS.

Summer sun, O moving trees!

O cheerful human noise, O busy glittering street!

What hour shall Fate in all the future find,

Or what delights, ever to equal these:

Only to taste the warmth, the light, the wind,

Only to be alive, and feel that life is sweet?

LAURENCE BINYON.

MENTEM MORTALIA TANGUNT

ow lonely is the wood:

No flower now lingers, none!

The virgin sisterhood

Of roses, all are gone;

Now Autumn sheds her latest leaf;

And in my heart is grief.

Ah me, for all earth rears,

The appointed bound is placed!

After a thousand years

The great oak falls at last:

And thou, more lovely, canst not stay,

Sweet rose, beyond thy day.

Our life is not the life

Of roses and of leaves;

Else wherefore this deep strife,

This pain, our soul conceives?

The fall of ev'n such short-lived things

To us some sorrow brings.

And yet, plant, bird, and fly

Feel no such hidden fire.

Happy they live; and die

Happy, with no desire.

They in their brief life have fulfill'd

All Nature in them will'd.

And were we also made

Of like terrestrial mould

We should not be afraid,

Nor feel the grave so cold;

But, all oblivious of our fate,

Live sweetly out our date.

For the great mother loves

Her children far too well;

These longings that she moves

Their own fulfilment tell:

She would not burden us with aught

We really needed not.

O, not in vain she gave

To the wild birds their wings!

They spread them forth, and have

Heaven for their wanderings.

But we, to whom no wings are given

Why seek we for a Heaven?

And, when far o'er us fly

Those voyagers of the air,

Why must we gaze, and sigh,

O would that I were there?

Why are we restless, ill content,

Tied to one element?

'Tis not that in our tears

Some happier life we crave;

Our happiest, sweetest years

Mysterious moments have:

The sense of our brief human lot

Clings to us, haunts our thought.

O then this pleasant earth

Seems but an alien thing:

Faint grows her busy mirth;

Far hence our thoughts take wing:

For some enduring home we cry!

She cannot satisfy,

Or bind us: only ties

Immortal found can bless;

Only in loving eyes

We see our happiness;

Only upon a loving breast

Our souls find any rest.

Why thirsts the spirit so

For life? what moves it thus?

'Tis her voice; yes, I know,

'Tis Nature cries in us:

'Tis no unholy strife of ours

Against forbidding powers.

What though we gaze with fear,

So blank death seems to be;

What though no land appear

Beyond that lonely sea;

Still in our hearts her cry doth stay;

She will find out a way.

So in the chrysalis

Slumber those lovely wings;

So from the shell it is

The dazzling pearl she brings:

Her glorious works she works alone,

Unfathom'd and unknown!

MANMOHAN GHOSE.

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ***

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided that:

• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”

• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.

• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work.

• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™

Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

Table of Contents

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Primavera, by Laurence Binyon et al.

PRIMAVERA: POEMS BY FOUR AUTHORS

PORTLAND MAINE PUBLISHED BY THOMAS B MOSHER AT XLV EXCHANGE STREET MDCCCC

PREFACE

PREFACE

PRIMAVERA

POEMS

YOUTH

TESTAMENTUM AMORIS

AMAVIMUS, AMAMUS, AMABIMUS

TO A LOST LOVE

RAYMOND AND IDA

PSYCHE

A LAMENT

UNDINES OF DIVERSE DAYS

A DREAM

ORESTES

THE SEASONS' COMFORT

MENTEM MORTALIA TANGUNT

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE