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I have drawn my blade where the lightnings meet But the ending is the same: Who loseth to G.o.d as the sword blades lose Shall win at the end of the game.
For G.o.d, our G.o.d, is a gallant foe that playeth behind the veil, Whom G.o.d deigns not to overthrow Hath need of triple mail.
For E. Mc C
_That was my counter-blade under Leonardo Terrone,_ _Master of Fence_.
Gone while your tastes were keen to you, Gone where the grey winds call to you, By that high fencer, even Death, Struck of the blade that no man parrieth; Such is your fence, one saith, One that hath known you.
Drew you your sword most gallantly Made you your pa.s.s most valiantly 'Gainst that grey fencer, even Death.
Gone as a gust of breath Faith! no man tarrieth, "_Se il cor ti manca_" but it failed thee not!
"_Non ti fidar_" it is the sword that speaks "_In me_."[6]
Thou trusted'st in thyself and met the blade 'Thout mask or gauntlet, and art laid As memorable broken blades that be Kept as bold trophies of old pageantry.
As old Toledos past their days of war Are kept mnemonic of the strokes they bore, So art thou with us, being good to keep In our heart's sword-rack, though thy sword-arm sleep.
ENVOI
Struck of the blade that no man parrieth Pierced of the point that toucheth lastly all, 'Gainst that grey fencer, even Death, Behold the s.h.i.+eld! He shall not take thee all.
[Footnote 6: Sword-rune "If thy heart fail thee trust not in me."]
At the Heart o' Me
A.D. 751
With ever one fear at the heart o' me Long by still sea-coasts coursed my Grey-Falcon, And the twin delights of sh.o.r.e and sea were mine, Sapphire and emerald with fine pearls between.
Through the pale courses of the land-caressing in-streams Glided my barge and the kindly strange peoples Gave to me laugh for laugh, and wine for my tales of wandering.
And the cities gave me welcome and the fields free pa.s.sage, With ever one fear at the heart o' me.
An thou should'st grow weary ere my returning, An "_they_" should call to thee from out the borderland, What should avail me booty of whale-ways?
What should avail me gold rings or the chain-mail?
What should avail me the many-twined bracelets?
What should avail me, O my beloved, Here in this "Middan-gard"[7]
what should avail me Out of the booty and gain of my goings?
[Footnote 7: Anglo Saxon "Earth".]
XENIA
And Unto thine eyes my heart Sendeth old dreams of the spring-time, Yea of wood-ways my rime Found thee and flowers in and of all streams That sang low burthen, and of roses, That lost their dew-bowed petals for the dreams We scattered o'er them pa.s.sing by.
Occidit
Autumnal breaks the flame upon the sun-set herds.
The sheep on Gilead as tawn hair gleam Neath Mithra's dower and his slow departing, While in the sky a thousand fleece of gold Bear, each his tribute, to the waning G.o.d.
Hung on the rafters of the effulgent west, Their tufted splendour s.h.i.+elds his decadence, As in our southern lands brave tapestries Are hung king-greeting from the ponticells And drag the pageant from the earth to air, Wherein the storied figures live again, Wind-molden back unto their life's erst guise, All tremulous beneath the many-fingered breath That Aufidus[8] doth take to house his soul.
[Footnote 8: The West wind.]
Search
I have heard a wee wind searching Through still forests for me; I have seen a wee wind searching O'er still sea.
Through woodlands dim have I taken my way; And o'er silent waters night and day Have I sought the wee wind.
An Idyl for Glaucus
_Nel suo aspetto tal dentro mifei_ _Qual si fe' Glauco nel gustar dell' erba_ _Che il fe' consorto in mar degli altri dei._ PARADISO, I, 67-9.
"_As Glaucus tasting the gra.s.s that made_ _him sea-fellow with the other G.o.ds._"
I
Whither he went I may not follow him. His eyes Were strange to-day. They always were, After their fas.h.i.+on, kindred of the sea.
To-day I found him. It is very long That I had sought among the nets, and when I asked The fishermen, they laughed at me.
I sought long days amid the cliffs thinking to find The body-house of him, and then There at the blue cave-mouth my joy Grew pain for suddenness, to see him 'live.
Whither he went I may not come, it seems He is become estranged from all the rest, And all the sea is now his wonder-house.
