Poems by George Meredith - LightNovelsOnl.com
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VIII
- The manners of the market, honest sirs, 'Tis hard to quit when you behold the wares.
You flatter us, or perchance our milliners You flatter; so this vain and outworn She May still be the charmed snake to your soft airs!
A higher lord than Love claim we.
IX
- One day, dear lady, missing the broad track, I came on a wood's border, by a mead, Where golden May ran up to moted black: And there I saw Queen Beauty hold review, With Love before her throne in act to plead.
Take him for me, take her for you.
X
- Ingenious gentleman, the tale is known.
Love pleaded sweetly: Beauty would not melt: She would not melt: he turned in wrath: her throne The shadow of his back froze witheringly, And sobbing at his feet Queen Beauty knelt.
O not such slaves of Love are we!
XI
- Love, lady, like the star above that lance Of radiance flung by sunset on ridged cloud, Sad as the last line of a brave romance! - Young Love hung dim, yet quivering round him threw Beams of fresh fire, while Beauty waned and bowed.
Scorn Love, and dread the doom for you.
XII
- Called she not for her mirror, sir? Forth ran Her women: I am lost, she cried, when lo, Love in the form of an admiring man Once more in adoration bent the knee, And brought the faded Pagan to full blow: For which her throne she gave: not we!
XIII
- My version, madam, runs not to that end.
A certain madness of an hour half past, Caught her like fever; her just lord no friend She fancied; aimed beyond beauty, and thence grew The prim acerbity, sweet Love's outcast.
Great heaven ward off that stroke from you!
XIV
- Your prayer to heaven, good sir, is generous: How generous likewise that you do not name Offended nature! She from all of us Couched idle underneath our showering tree, May quite withhold her most destructive flame; And then what woeful women we!
XV
- Quite, could not be, fair lady; yet your youth May run to drought in visionary schemes: And a late waking to perceive the truth, When day falls shrouding her supreme adieu, Shows darker wastes than unaccomplished dreams: And that may be in store for you.
XVI
- O sir, the truth, the truth! is't in the skies, Or in the gra.s.s, or in this heart of ours?
But O the truth, the truth! the many eyes That look on it! the diverse things they see, According to their thirst for fruit or flowers!
Pa.s.s on: it is the truth seek we.
XVII
- Lady, there is a truth of settled laws That down the past burns like a great watch-fire.
Let youth hail changeful mornings; but your cause, Whetting its edge to cut the race in two, Is felony: you forfeit the bright lyre, Much honour and much glory you!
XVIII
- Sir, was it glory, was it honour, pride, And not as cat and serpent and poor slave, Wherewith we walked in union by your side?
Spare to false womanliness her delicacy, Or bid true manliness give ear, we crave: In our defence thus chained are we.
XIX
- Yours, madam, were the privileges of life Proper to man's ideal; you were the mark Of action, and the banner in the strife: Yea, of your very weakness once you drew The strength that sounds the wells, outflies the lark: Wrapped in a robe of flame were you!
XX
- Your friend looks thoughtful. Sir, when we were chill, You clothed us warmly; all in honour! when We starved you fed us; all in honour still: Oh, all in honour, ultra-honourably!
Deep is the grat.i.tude we owe to men, For privileged indeed were we!
XXI
- You cite exceptions, madam, that are sad, But come in the red struggle of our growth.
Alas, that I should have to say it! bad Is two-s.e.xed upon earth: this which you do, Shows animal impatience, mental sloth: Man monstrous! pining seraphs you!
XXII
- I fain would ask your friend . . . but I will ask You, sir, how if in place of numbers vague, Your sad exceptions were to break that mask They wear for your cool mind historically, And blaze like black lists of a PRESENT plague?
But in that light behold them we.
XXIII
- Your spirit breathes a mist upon our world, Lady, and like a rain to pierce the roof And drench the bed where toil-tossed man lies curled In his hard-earned oblivion! You are few, Scattered, ill-counselled, blinded: for a proof, I have lived, and have known none like you.
XXIV
- We may be blind to men, sir: we embrace A future now beyond the fowler's nets.
Though few, we hold a promise for the race That was not at our rising: you are free To win brave mates; you lose but marionnettes.
He who's for us, for him are we.
XXV
- Ah! madam, were they puppets who withstood Youth's cravings for adventure to preserve The dedicated ways of womanhood?
The light which leads us from the paths of rue, That light above us, never seen to swerve, Should be the home-lamp trimmed by you.
XXVI
- Ah! sir, our wors.h.i.+pped posture we perchance Shall not abandon, though we see not how, Being to that lamp-post fixed, we may advance Beside our lords in any real degree, Unless we move: and to advance is now A sovereign need, think more than we.
XXVII
- So push you out of harbour in small craft, With little seamans.h.i.+p; and comes a gale, The world will laugh, the world has often laughed, Lady, to see how bold when skies are blue, When black winds churn the deeps how panic-pale, How swift to the old nest fly you!
XXVIII
