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Poems by Muriel Stuart Part 6

Poems by Muriel Stuart - LightNovelsOnl.com

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All that the world could give man's mind inherits: Two paths were set us. Baffled, weeping, yearning, Tossed between G.o.d and Man, rebellious spirits, We wandered, now escaped and unreturning.

We are arming, waking, terribly unfolding, The spent world shudders in a new creation, A dread and pitiless flowering beholding, Burst from the dark root of our long frustration!

ANDROMEDA.

Did G.o.d but build this temple for desire That man defraud my birthright with a kiss?

Did he not give me a spirit to aspire Beyond man's fortunes and necessities?

Man chains the thing he fears, who fears the free; No wildest beast was tamed as I was tamed, No prey has been so tracked, no flesh so shamed; Man hunts no quarry as he hunted me.

Of all the things created one alone Rose from the earth his equal; only the might Of his brute strength could bid my soul renounce Its claim--forswear its just, predestined right.

To what poor shape of folly am I grown, In whom G.o.d breathed an equal spirit once!

CHORUS OF FIRST WOMEN.

Oh sheltering arms that have bound you, Oh hearts you have shaped to your will!

The lordliest lovers have crowned you, They have knelt as they kneel to you still.

Why speak you so ill of such lovers, Why question the will of such lords?

For your lips, for your laughter, Love offers The world on a litter of swords,

They have borne for you death and disasters, They have held you with kingdoms at stake.

The kings of the earth and the masters Were poets and fools for your sake!

ANDROMEDA.

Was I made free for all their swords and songs?

Do fairest songs sung to caged birds sound sweet?

Did their spears hold the door whence came my wrongs?

Did they sing my spirit and the hurt of it?

There was no battle for my freedom's sake; They never sang for pity of me. Not those Who laud it cage the eagle: not those who break The delicate stem most deeply love the rose.

If we have taken the path towards the hills They have noosed our feet, they have kennelled us again.

If we have dared for separate minds and wills, We have marched to men's laughter, and the mock of men.

Oh, lords, if you be strong why fear to raise Our groping, pitiful bodies from the dust?

If you were pre-ordained to shape our ways, Why has your power shaped that way so ill?

Only the hireling master wreaks his will On slaves, lest rulers they become at last, And his poor hour of pride is waned and pa.s.sed: The rightful lord fears never to be just.

CHORUS OF SECOND WOMEN.

Stars, you run your course unchidden; Sun, the sky puts forth no hand To constrain you; unforbidden Clouds in aery harness stand; And unchallenged comes the moon up, bright and slow upon the land.

Dew, no shadow moves beside you To avert your glittering; Wind, your race is undenied you; Lightning, you have room to spring!

For the great, free hand of Nature gives sweet leave to everything.

One great law controls their being,-- To their utmost bids them rise; From the snowdrop, her bell freeing, To the bow that leaps the skies; For the universal order of the world in freedom lies.

But one lies here lost and driven From the free primeval way, From the rights that she was given, That she asks of man to-day; For her soul has faced her masters, and her spirit stands at bay.

ANDROMEDA.

I am the Last Begotten. I am the Rose Flung for the bed of kings. I am the Cause Of this world's ills, its follies and its woes; I am the unclean, the carnal, I make men pause From G.o.d. I am s.e.x, and all vain bodily l.u.s.t That men desire and spit on, and would not lose For the bribe of Heaven. I am the little Dust Blown from their bitter mouths. I am the Way Of death. I am the soiled and spotted One Bidden in silence to the Church's feast; Yea, of all bitterest foes the crafty priest Is mine; no hand has flung a crueller stone; Of all oppressors him I most accuse.

I am the Fool that led the world astray, My motherhood the fruits of my first sin.

I am the Slave to whom sick masters pray.

I am the Mother. I am Magdalen.

I am the Daemon, I drink at dead men's lips.

My Grail is blood at midnight. I am burned In witchcraft. I am the Weal of the world's whips.

No age has risen that has not seen me scorned.

I am the Harlot, the Accursed Thing, the Prey; Bartered for bread; like cattle willed away; Sold at the shambles. I am the Chast.i.ty Men breed for spoiling. I am the Soul at bay.

I am what men have made and marred of me.

CHORUS OF SECOND WOMEN.

Oh, behold, oh, beware, Andromeda! ...

A wing on the air, A step on the sands!

Oh be silent lest he Who is master prepare, As of old at your plea, A new chain for your hands.

Oh, behold, oh, beware, Andromeda!

She hears not, her cries Still tremble the air.

O sands, set a snare For him. Merciful skies, Uncradle your mist!

O crag, break your breast In murdering stone!

O lightning, untwist Your fang from the cloud!

O winds, shriek aloud Till the sea heave and groan, And unlock its white thunder Till its legions be hurled, And the beach quake thereunder...

Oh, Fool of the World!

(PERSEUS _appears on the sands near_ ANDROMEDA.)

PERSEUS.

Who crieth with a cry long heard of me?

ANDROMEDA.

The rebel spirit of woman that would be free.

PERSEUS.

How is she named whose wild lips so crave?

ANDROMEDA.

This is the World's Fool. This is the Slave.

PERSEUS.

Who has wronged her?

ANDROMEDA.

The ancient spirit of man.

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