The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 148

_Memphis_.

'Tis true, alas--the mysteries and the lore I came to study on this, wondrous sh.o.r.e.

Are all forgotten in the new delights.

The strange, wild joys that fill my days and nights.

Instead of dark, dull oracles that speak From subterranean temples, those _I_ seek Come from the breathing shrines where Beauty lives, And Love, her priest, the soft responses gives.

Instead of honoring Isis in those rites At Coptos held, I hail her when she lights Her first young crescent on the holy stream-- When wandering youths and maidens watch her beam And number o'er the nights she hath to run, Ere she again embrace her bridegroom sun.

While o'er some mystic leaf that dimly lends A clew into past times the student bends, And by its glimmering guidance learns to tread Back thro' the shadowy knowledge of the dead-- The only skill, alas, _I_ yet can claim Lies in deciphering some new loved-one's name-- Some gentle missive hinting time and place, In language soft as Memphian reed can trace.

And where--oh where's the heart that could withstand The unnumbered witcheries of this sun-born land, Where first young Pleasure's banner was unfurled And Love hath temples ancient as the world!

Where mystery like the veil by Beauty worn Hides but to win and shades but to adorn; Where that luxurious melancholy born Of pa.s.sion and of genius sheds a gloom Making joy holy;--where the bower and tomb Stand side by side and Pleasure learns from Death The instant value of each moment's breath.

Couldst thou but see how like a poet's dream This lovely land now looks!--the glorious stream That late between its banks was seen to glide 'Mong shrines and marble cities on each side Glittering like jewels strung along a chain Hath now sent forth its waters, and o'er plain And valley like a giant from his bed Rising with outstretched limbs hath grandly spread.

While far as sight can reach beneath as clear And blue a heaven as ever blest our sphere, Gardens and pillared streets and porphyry domes And high-built temples fit to be the homes Of mighty G.o.ds, and pyramids whose hour Outlasts all time above the waters tower!

Then, too, the scenes of pomp and joy that make One theatre of this vast, peopled lake, Where all that Love, Religion, Commerce gives Of life and motion ever moves and lives.

Here, up the steps of temples from the wave Ascending in procession slow and grave.

Priests in white garments go, with sacred wands And silver cymbals gleaming in their hands; While there, rich barks--fresh from those sunny tracts Far off beyond the sounding cataracts-- Glide with their precious lading to the sea, Plumes of bright birds, rhinoceros ivory, Gems from the Isle of Meroe, and those grains Of gold washed down by Abyssinian rains.

Here where the waters wind into a bay Shadowy and cool some pilgrims on their way To Sas or Bubastus among beds Of lotus flowers that close above their heads Push their light barks, and there as in a bower, Sing, talk, or sleep away the sultry hour; Oft dipping in the Nile, when faint with heat, That leaf from which its waters drink most sweet.-- While haply not far off beneath a bank Of blossoming acacias many a prank Is played in the cool current by a train Of laughing nymphs, lovely as she,[1] whose chain Around two conquerors of the world was cast, But, for a third too feeble, broke at last.

For oh! believe not them who dare to brand As poor in charms the women of this land.

Tho' darkened by that sun whose spirit flows Thro' every vein and tinges as it goes, 'Tis but the embrowning of the fruit that tells How rich within the soul of ripeness dwells-- The hue their own dark sanctuaries wear, Announcing heaven in half-caught glimpses there.

And never yet did tell-tale looks set free The secret of young hearts more tenderly.

Such eyes!--long, shadowy, with that languid fall Of the fringed lids which may be seen in all Who live beneath the sun's too ardent rays-- Lending such looks as on their marriage days Young maids cast down before a bridegroom's gaze!

Then for their grace--mark but the nymph-like shapes Of the young village girls, when carrying grapes From green Anthylla or light urns of flowers-- Not our own Sculpture in her happiest hours E'er imaged forth even at the touch of him[2]

Whose touch was life, more luxury of limb!

Then, canst thou wonder if mid scenes like these I should forget all graver mysteries, All lore but Love's, all secrets but that best In heaven or earth, the art of being blest!

Yet are there times--tho' brief I own their stay, Like summer-clouds that s.h.i.+ne themselves away-- Moments of gloom, when even these pleasures pall Upon my saddening heart and I recall That garden dream--that promise of a power, Oh, were there such!--to lengthen out life's hour, On, on, as thro' a vista far away Opening before us into endless day!

And chiefly o'er my spirit did this thought Come on that evening--bright as ever brought Light's golden farewell to the world--when first The eternal pyramids of Memphis burst Awfully on my sight-standing sublime Twixt earth and heaven, the watch-towers of Time, From whose lone summit when his reign hath past From earth for ever he will look his last!

There hung a calm and solemn suns.h.i.+ne round Those mighty monuments, a hus.h.i.+ng sound In the still air that circled them which stole Like music of past times into my soul.

I thought what myriads of the wise and brave And beautiful had sunk into the grave, Since earth first saw these wonders--and I said "Are things eternal only for the Dead?

"Hath Man no loftier hope than this which dooms "His only lasting trophies to be tombs?

"But _'tis_ not so--earth, heaven, all nature shows "He _may_ become immortal--_may_ unclose "The wings within him wrapt, and proudly rise "Redeemed from earth, a creature of the skies!

"And who can say, among the written spells "From Hermes' hand that in these shrines and cells "Have from the Flood lay hid there may not be "Some secret clew to immortality, "Some amulet whose spell can keep life's fire "Awake within us never to expire!

"'Tis known that on the Emerald Table, hid "For ages in yon loftiest pyramid, "The Thrice-Great[3] did himself engrave of old "The chymic mystery that gives endless gold.

"And why may not this mightier secret dwell "Within the same dark chambers? who can tell "But that those kings who by the written skill "Of the Emerald Table called forth gold at will "And quarries upon quarries heapt and hurled, "To build them domes that might outstand the world-- "Who knows, but that the heavenlier art which shares "The life of G.o.ds with man was also theirs-- "That they themselves, triumphant o'er the power "Of fate and death, are living at this hour; "And these, the giant homes they still possess.

"Not tombs but everlasting palaces "Within whose depths hid from the world above "Even now they wander with the few they love, "Thro' subterranean gardens, by a light "Unknown on earth which hath nor dawn nor night!

"Else, why those deathless structures? why the grand "And hidden halls that undermine this land?

"Why else hath none of earth e'er dared to go "Thro' the dark windings of that realm below, "Nor aught from heaven itself except the G.o.d "Of Silence thro' those endless labyrinths trod?"

Thus did I dream--wild, wandering dreams, I own, But such as haunt me ever, if alone, Or in that pause 'twixt joy and joy I be, Like a s.h.i.+p husht between two waves at sea.

Then do these spirit whisperings like the sound Of the Dark Future come appalling round; Nor can I break the trance that holds me then, Till high o'er Pleasure's surge I mount again!

Even now for new adventure, new delight, My heart is on the wing;--this very night, The Temple on that island halfway o'er From Memphis' gardens to the eastern sh.o.r.e Sends up its annual rite[4] to her whose beams Bring the sweet time of night-flowers and dreams; The nymph who dips her urn in silent lakes And turns to silvery dew each drop it takes;-- Oh! not our Dian of the North who chains In vestal ice the current of young veins, But she who haunts the gay Bubastian[5] grove And owns she sees from her bright heaven above, Nothing on earth to match that heaven but Love.

Think then what bliss will be abroad to-night!-- Besides those sparkling nymphs who meet the sight Day after day, familiar as the sun, Coy buds of beauty yet unbreathed upon And all the hidden loveliness that lies,-- Shut up as are the beams of sleeping eyes Within these twilight shrines--tonight shall be Let loose like birds for this festivity!

And mark, 'tis nigh; already the sun bids His evening farewell to the Pyramids.

As he hath done age after age till they Alone on earth seem ancient as his ray; While their great shadows stretching from the light Look like the first colossal steps of Night Stretching across the valley to invade The distant hills of porphyry with their shade.

Around, as signals of the setting beam, Gay, gilded flags on every housetop gleam: While, hark!--from all the temples a rich swell Of music to the Moon--farewell--farewell.

[1] Cleopatra.

[2] Apellas.

[3] The Hermes Trismegistus.

[4] The great Festival of the Moon.

[5] Bubastis, or Isis, was the Diana of the Egyptian mythology.

LETTER III.

FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.

_Memphis_.

There is some star--or may it be That moon we saw so near last night-- Which comes athwart my destiny For ever with misleading light.

If for a moment pure and wise And calm I feel there quick doth fall A spark from some disturbing eyes, That thro' my heart, soul, being flies, And makes a wildfire of it all.

I've seen--oh, Cleon, that this earth Should e'er have given such beauty birth!-- That man--but, hold--hear all that past Since yester-night from first to last.

The rising of the Moon, calm, slow, And beautiful, as if she came Fresh from the Elysian bowers below, Was with a loud and sweet acclaim Welcomed from every breezy height, Where crowds stood waiting for her light.

And well might they who viewed the scene Then lit up all around them, say That never yet had Nature been Caught sleeping in a lovelier ray Or rivalled her own noontide face With purer show of moonlight grace.

Memphis--still grand, tho' not the same Unrivalled Memphis that could seize From ancient Thebes the crown of Fame, And wear it bright thro' centuries-- Now, in the moons.h.i.+ne, that came down Like a last smile upon that crown.

Memphis, still grand among her lakes, Her pyramids and shrines of fire, Rose like a vision that half breaks On one who dreaming still awakes To music from some midnight choir: While to the west--where gradual sinks In the red sands from Libya rolled.

Some mighty column or fair sphynx, That stood in kingly courts of old-- It seemed as, mid the pomps that shone Thus gayly round him Time looked on, Waiting till all now bright and blest, Should sink beneath him like the rest.

No sooner had the setting sun Proclaimed the festal rite begun, And mid their idol's fullest beams The Egyptian world was all afloat, Than I who live upon these streams Like a young Nile-bird turned my boat To the fair island on whose sh.o.r.es Thro' leafy palms and sycamores Already shone the moving lights Of pilgrims hastening to the rites.

While, far around like ruby sparks Upon the water, lighted barks, Of every form and kind--from those That down Syene's cataract shoots, To the grand, gilded barge that rows To tambour's beat and breath of flutes, And wears at night in words of flame On the rich prow its master's name;-- All were alive and made this sea Of cities busy as a hill Of summer ants caught suddenly In the overflowing of a rill.

Landed upon the isle, I soon Thro' marble alleys and small groves Of that mysterious palm she loves, Reached the fair Temple of the Moon; And there--as slowly thro' the last Dim-lighted vestibule I past-- Between the porphyry pillars twined With palm and ivy, I could see A band of youthful maidens wind In measured walk half dancingly, Round a small shrine on which was placed That bird[1] whose plumes of black and white Wear in their hue by Nature traced A type of the moon's shadowed light.

In drapery like woven snow These nymphs were clad; and each below The rounded bosom loosely wore A dark blue zone or bandelet, With little silver stars all o'er As are the skies at midnight set.

While in their tresses, braided thro', Sparkled that flower of Egypt's lakes, The silvery lotus in whose hue As much delight the young Moon takes As doth the Day-G.o.d to behold The lofty bean-flower's buds of gold.

And, as they gracefully went round The wors.h.i.+pt bird, some to the beat Of castanets, some to the sound Of the shrill sistrum timed their feet; While others at each step they took A tinkling chain of silver shook.

They seemed all fair--but there was one On whom the light had not yet shone, Or shone but partly--so downcast She held her brow, as slow she past.

And yet to me there seemed to dwell A charm about that unseen face-- A something in the shade that fell Over that brow's imagined grace Which won me more than all the best Outs.h.i.+ning beauties of the rest.

And _her_ alone my eyes could see Enchained by this sweet mystery; And her alone I watched as round She glided o'er that marble ground, Stirring not more the unconscious air Than if a Spirit were moving there.

Till suddenly, wide open flew The Temple's folding gates and threw A splendor from within, a flood Of glory where these maidens stood.

While with that light--as if the same Rich source gave birth to both--there came A swell of harmony as grand As e'er was born of voice and band, Filling the gorgeous aisles around With luxury of light and sound.

Then was it, by the flash that blazed Full o'er her features--oh 'twas then, As startingly her eyes she raised, But quick let fall their lids again, I saw--not Psyche's self when first Upon the threshold of the skies She paused, while heaven's glory burst Newly upon her downcast eyes, Could look more beautiful or blush With holier shame than did this maid, Whom now I saw in all that gush Of splendor from the aisles, displayed.