Yet so revolves the axle of the world, IO 20 And native duty, as the good man walks Thy glad perambulation; and thou, far 523 Not sovran nor in fee of paramount power; Moons round your worlds, worlds round your suns, suns round Such satraps as in orderly degree - ye, so moved, commoved, Revolving and convolving, turn the heavens Upon the pivot of that summery star, Centre of all we know: and thou, O star, Centre of all we know, chief crown of crowns, Who art the one in all, the all in one, 30 And seest the ordered whole - nought uninvolved But all involved to one direct result 40 One power, one tune, one time, upon one path Move with thee moving, thou, amid thy host Marchest - ah whither? O God, before Whom We marshal thus Thy legioned works to take The secret of Thy counsel, and array Congress and progress, and, with multitude As conquerors and to conquer, in consent Of universal law, approach Thy bound, Thine immemorial bound, and at Thy face Heaven and earth flee away; O Thou Lord God, Whether, O absolute existence, Thou, 51 The Maker, makest, and this fair we see 61 The unportioned snows; or whether, meditating 10 To mine, and, clasp'd, they tread the equal lea His Helena and Hermia. Shall we fight? Nor force nor fraud shall sunder us! O ye Its breathing book; live worthy of that grand And rich as Chaucer's speech, and fair as Spenser's dream. Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem, For service meetly worn; Her hair that lay along her back Her seemed she scarce had been a day The wonder was not yet quite gone (To one, it is ten years of years. Yet now, and in this place, Surely she leaned o'er me her hair It was the rampart of God's house By God built over the sheer depth So high, that looking downward thence It lies in Heaven, across the flood Beneath, the tides of day and night With flame and darkness ridge The void, as low as where this earth Spins like a fretful midge. Around her, lovers, newly met 'Mid deathless love's acclaims, Spoke evermore among themselves Their heart-remembered names; And the souls mounting up to God Went by her like thin flames. And still she bowed herself and stooped Out of the circling charm; Until her bosom must have made The bar she leaned on warm, And the lilies lay as if asleep Along her bended arm. From the fixed place of Heaven she saw Time like a pulse shake fierce 12 18 24 30 36 42 48 THE BLESSED DAMOZEL Fluttering far down the gulf; and now (Ah sweet! Even now, in that bird's song, Strove not her accents there, Fain to be hearkened? When those bells Strove not her steps to reach my side "I wish that he were come to me, "Have I not prayed in Heaven? Lord, Lord, has he not pray'd? on earth, Are not two prayers a perfect strength? 525 108 114 120 "Herself shall bring us, hand in hand, To Him round whom all souls Kneel, the clear-ranged unnumbered heads Bowed with their aureoles: I'll take his hand and go with him To the deep wells of light; As unto a stream we will step down, And bathe there in God's sight. This room of yours, my Jenny, looks A change from mine so full of books, Whose serried ranks hold fast, forsooth, So many captive hours of youth, The hours they thieve from day and night To make one's cherished work come right, And leave it wrong for all their theft, Even as to-night my work was left: Until I vowed that since my brain And eyes of dancing seemed so fain, My feet should have some dancing too: And thus it was I met with you. Well, I suppose 'twas hard to part, For here I am. And now, sweetheart You seem too tired to get to bed. It was a careless life I led When rooms like this were scarce so strange Not long ago. What breeds the change, The many aims or the few years? Because to-night it all appears Something I do not know again. The cloud's not danced out of my brain, But while my thought runs on like this 20 30 On sorry matters best unsolved? - For sometimes, were the truth confess'd, You're thankful for a little rest, Glad from the crush to rest within, From the heart-sickness and the din Where envy's voice at virtue's pitch Mocks you because your gown is rich; And from the pale girl's dumb rebuke, Whose ill-clad grace and toil-worn look Proclaim the strength that keeps her weak, And other nights than yours bespeak; And from the wise unchildish elf, To schoolmate lesser than himself, Pointing you out, what thing you are:— Yes, from the daily jeer and jar, From shame and shame's outbraving too, Is rest not sometimes sweet to you? But most from the hatefulness of man Who spares not to end what he began, Whose acts are ill and his speech ill, Who, having used you at his will, Thrusts you aside, as when I dine I serve the dishes and the wine. Well, handsome Jenny mine, sit up, I've filled our glasses, let us sup, And do not let me think of you, 40 50 Lest shame of yours suffice for two. Behold the lilies of the field, They toil not neither do they spin; (So doth the ancient text begin, Not of such rest as one of these Can share.) Another rest and ease Along each summer-sated path From its new lord the garden hath, Than that whose spring in blessings ran Which praised the bounteous husbandman, Ere yet, in days of hankering breath, The lilies sickened unto death. What, Jenny, are your lilies dead? Aye, and the snow-white leaves are spread Jenny, you know the city now. A child can tell the tale there, how Have seen your coach-wheels splash rebuke 140 A Lethe of the middle street? Why, Jenny, you're asleep at last! Asleep, poor Jenny, hard and fast, So young and soft and tired; so fair, With chin thus nestled in your hair, Mouth quiet, eyelids almost blue As if some sky of dreams shone through! Just as another woman sleeps! Enough to throw one's thoughts in heaps Of doubt and horror, - what to say Or think, - this awful secret sway, The potter's power over the clay! Of the same lump (it has been said) For honour and dishonour made, Two sister vessels. Here is one. My cousin Nell is fond of fun, And fond of dress, and change, and praise, 527 170 180 190 And she's the girl I'm proudest of. Who does not prize her, guard her well? The love of change, in cousin Nell, Shall find the best and hold it dear: The unconquered mirth turn quieter Not through her own, through others' woe: Of the same lump (as it is said) For honour and dishonour made, Two sister vessels. Here is one. It makes a goblin of the sun. So pure, - so fall'n! How dare to think Of the first common kindred link? Yet, Jenny, till the world shall burn It seems that all things take their turn; And who shall say but this fair tree May need, in changes that may be, Your children's children's charity? Scorned then, no doubt, as you are scorn'd! Shall no man hold his pride forewarn'd 200 210 |