God’s Virgin. Gone is a great while, and she
Dwelt young in Nazareth of Galilee.
Unto God’s will she brought devout respect,
Profound simplicity of intellect, 5
And supreme patience. From her mother’s knee
Faithful and hopeful; wise in charity;
Strong in grave peace; in pity circumspect.
So held she through her girlhood; as it were
An angel-watered lily, that near God 10
Grows and is quiet. Till, one dawn at home
She woke in her white bed, and had no fear
At all, - yet wept till sunshine, and felt awed:
Because the fulness of the time was come.
II
These are the symbols. On that cloth of red 15
I’ the centre is the Tripoint: perfect each,
Except the second of its points, to teach
That Christ is not yet born. The books - whose head
Is golden Charity, as Paul hath said-
Those virtues are wherein the soul is rich: 20
Therefore on them the lily standeth, which
Is Innocence, bring interpreted.
The seven-thorn’d briar and the palm seven-leaved
Are her great sorrow and her great reward.
Until the end be full, the Holy One 25
Abides without. She soon shall have achieved
Her perfect purity: yea, God the Lord
Shall soon vouchsafe His Son to be her Son.
THE BLESSED DAMOZEL (1850 VERSION)
The blessed Damozel leaned out
From the gold bar of Heaven:
Her blue grave eyes were deeper much
Than a deep water, even.
She had three lilies in her hand, 5
And the stars in her hair were seven.
Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem,
No wrought flowers did adorn,
But a white rose of Mary’s gift
On the neck meetly worn; 10
And her hair, lying down her back,
Was yellow like ripe corn.
Herseemed she scarce had been a day
One of God’s choristers;
The wonder was not yet quite gone 15
From that still look of hers;
Albeit to them she left, her day
Had counted as ten years.
(To one it is ten years of years:
Yet now, here in this place 20
Surely she leaned o’er me, - her hair
Fell all about my face
Nothing: the Autumn-fall of leaves.
The whole year sets apace.)
It was the terrace of God’s house 25
That she was standing on, -
By God built over the sheer depth
In which Space is begun;
So high, that looking downward thence,
She could scarce see the sun. 30
It lies from Heaven across the flood
Of ether, as a bridge.
Beneath, the tides of day and night
With flame and blackness ridge
The void, as low as where this earth 35
Spins like a fretful midge.
But in those tracts, with her, it was
The peace of utter light
And silence. For no breeze may stir
Along the steady flight 40
Of seraphim; no echo there,
Beyond all depth or height.
Heard hardly, some of her new friends,
Playing at holy games,
Spake, gentle-mouthed, among themselves, 45
Their virginal chaste names;
And the souls, mounting up to God,
Went by her like thin flames.
And still she bowed herself, and stooped
Into the vast waste calm; 50
Till her bosom’s pressure must have made
The bar she leaned on warm,
And the lilies lay as if asleep
Along her bended arm.
From the fixt lull of heaven, she saw 55
Time, like a pulse, shake fierce
Through all the worlds. Her gaze still strove,
In that steep gulph, to pierce
The swarm: and then she spake, as when
The stars sang in their spheres. 60
“I wish that he were come to me,
For he will come,” she said.
“Have I not prayed in solemn heaven?
On earth, has he not prayed?
Are not two prayers a perfect strength? 65
And shall I feel afraid?
“When round his head the aureole clings,
And he is clothed in white,
I’ll take his hand, and go with him
To the deep wells of light, 70
And we will step down as to a stream
And bathe there in God’s sight.
“We two will stand beside that shrine,
Occult, withheld, untrod,
Whose lamps tremble continually 75
With prayer sent up to God;
And where each need, revealed, expects
Its patient period.
“We two will lie i’ the shadow of
That living mystic tree 80
Within whose secret growth the Dove
Sometimes is felt to be,
While every leaf that His plumes touch
Saith His name audibly.
“And I myself will teach to him — 85
I myself, lying so, -
The songs I sing here; which his mouth
Shall pause in, hushed and slow,
Finding some knowledge at each pause
And some new thing to know.” 90
(Alas! to her wise simple mind
These things were all but known
Before: they trembled on her sense, -
Her voice had caught their tone.
Alas for lonely Heaven! Alas 95
For life wrung out alone!
Alas, and though the end were reached?
Was thy part understood
Or borne in trust? And for her sake
Shall this too be found good? - 100
May the close lips that knew not prayer
Praise ever, though they would?)
“We two,” she said, “will seek the groves
Where the lady Mary is,
With her five handmaidens, whose names 105
Are five sweet symphonies: -
Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen,
Margaret, and Rosalys.
“Circle-wise sit they, with bound locks
And bosoms covered; 110
Into the fine cloth, white like flame,
Weaving the golden thread,
To fashion the birth-robes for them
Who are just born, being dead.
“He shall fear haply, and be dumb. 115
Then I will lay my cheek
To his, and tell about our love,
Not once abashed or weak:
And the dear Mother will approve
My pride, and let me speak. 120
“Herself shall bring us, hand in hand,
To Him round whom all souls
Kneel - the unnumber’d solemn heads
Bowed with their aureoles:
And Angels, meeting us, shall sing 125
To their citherns and citoles.
“There will I ask of Christ the Lord
Thus much for him and me: -
To have more blessing than on earth
In nowise; but to be 130
As then we were, — being as then
At peace. Yea, verily.
“Yea, verily; when he is come
We will do thus and thus:
Till this my vigil seem quite strange 135
And almost fabulous;
We two will live at once, one life;
And peace shall be with us.”
She gazed, and listened, and then said,
Less sad of speech t
han mild: 140
“All this is when he comes.” She ceased;
The light thrilled past her, filled
With Angels, in strong level lapse.
Her eyes prayed, and she smiled.
(I saw her smile.) But soon their flight 145
Was vague ‘mid the poised spheres.
And then she cast her arms along
The golden barriers,
And laid her face between her hands,
And wept. (I heard her tears.) 150
THE CARILLON
ANTWERP AND BRUGES
(In these and others of the Flemish towns, the Carillon, or chimes which have a most fantastic and delicate music, are played almost continuously. The custom is very ancient.)
At Antwerp, there is a low wall
Binding the city, and a moat
Beneath, that the wind keeps afloat.
You pass the gates in a slow drawl
Of wheels. If it is warm at all 5
The Carillon will give you thought.
I climbed the stair in Antwerp church,
What time the urgent weight of sound
At sunset seems to heave it round.
Far up, the Carillon did search 10
The wind; and the birds came to perch
Far under, where the gables wound.
In Antwerp harbour on the Scheldt
I stood along, a certain space
Of night. The mist was near my face: 15
Deep on, the flow was heard and felt.
The Carillon kept pause, and dwelt
In music through the silent place.
At Bruges, when you leave the train,
- A singing numbness in your ears, - 20
The Carillon’s first sound appears
Only the inner moil. Again
A little minute though - your brain
Takes quiet, and the whole sense hears.
John Memmeling and John Van Eyck 25
Hold state at Bruges. In sore shame
I scanned the works that keep their name.
The Carillon, which then did strike
Mine ears, was heard of theirs alike:
It set me closer unto them. 30
I climbed at Bruges all the flight
The Belfry has of ancient stone.
For leagues I saw the east wind blown:
The earth was grey, the sky was white.
I stood so near upon the height
That my flesh felt the Carillon.
October, 1849
FROM THE CLIFFS: NOON (1850 VERSION)
The sea is in its listless chime:
Time’s lapse it is, made audible, -
The murmur of the earth’s large shell.
In a sad blueness beyond rhyme
It ends: sense, without thought, can pass 5
No stadium further. Since time was,
This sound hath told the lapse of time.
No stagnance that death wins, - it hath
The mournfulness of ancient life,
Always enduring at dull strife. 10
As the world’s heart of rest and wrath,
Its painful pulse is in the sands.
Last utterly, the whole sky stands,
Grey and not known, along its path.
PAX VOBIS (1850 VERSION)
’Tis of the Father Hilary.
He strove, but could not pray; so took
The darkened stair, where his feet shook
A sad blind echo. He kept up
Slowly. ’Twas a chill sway of air 5
That autumn noon within the stair,
Sick, dizzy, like a turning cup.
His brain perplexed him, void and thin:
He shut his eyes and felt it spin;
The obscure deafness hemmed him in. 10
He said: ‘The air is calm outside.’
He leaned unto the gallery
Where the chime keeps the night and day:
It hurt his brain, - he could not pray.
He had his face upon the stone: 15
Deep ‘twixt the narrow shafts, his eye
Passed all the roofs unto the sky
Whose greyness the wind swept alone.
Close by his feet he saw it shake
With wind in pools that the rains make:
The ripple set his eyes to ache.
He said: ‘Calm hath its peace outside.’
He stood within the mystery
Girding God’s blessed Eucharist:
The organ and the chaunt had ceased:
A few words paused against his ear,
Said from the altar: drawn round him,
The silence was at rest and dim.
He could not pray. The bell shook clear
And ceased. All was great awe, - the breath
Of God in man, that warranteth
Wholly the inner things of Faith.
He said: ‘There is the world outside.’
WORLD’S WORTH
’Tis of the Father Hilary.
He strove, but could not pray; so took
The steep-coiled stair, where his feet shook
A sad blind echo. Ever up
He toiled. ’Twas a sick sway of air 5
That autumn noon within the stair,
As dizzy as a turning cup.
His brain benumbed him, void and thin;
He shut his eyes and felt it spin;
The obscure deafness hemmed him in. 10
He said: ‘O world, what world for me?’
He leaned unto the balcony
Where the chime keeps the night and day;
It hurt his brain, he could not pray.
He had his face upon the stone: 15
Deep ‘twixt the narrow shafts, his eye
Passed all the roofs to the stark sky,
Swept with no wing, with wind alone.
Close to his feet the sky did shake
With wind in pools that the rains make: 20
The ripple set his eyes to ache.
He said: ‘O world, what world for me?’
He stood within the mystery
Girding God’s blessed Eucharist:
The organ and the chaunt had ceas’d: 25
The last words paused against his ear
Said from the altar: drawn round him,
The gathering rest was dumb and dim.
And now the sacring-bell rang clear
And ceased; and all was awe, - the breath 30
Of God in man that warranteth
The inmost utmost things of faith.
He said: ‘O God, my world in Thee!’
AN ALLEGORICAL DANCE OF WOMEN, BY ANDREA MANTEGNA IN THE LOUVRE
Scarcely, I think; yet it indeed may be
The meaning reached him, when this music rang
Clear through his frame, a sweet possessive pang,
And he beheld these rocks and that ridged sea.
But I believe that, leaning tow’rds them, he 5
Just felt their hair carried across his face
As each girl passed him; nor gave ear to trace
How many feet; nor bent assuredly
His eyes from the blind fixedness of thought
To know the dancers. It is bitter glad 10
Even unto tears. Its meaning filleth it,
A secret of the wells of Life: to wit: —
The heart’s each pulse shall keep the sense it had
With all, though the mind’s labour run to nought.
AN ALLEGORICAL DANCE OF WOMEN, BY ANDREA MANTEGNA
A VIRGIN AND CHILD, BY HANS MEMMELING IN THE ACADEMY OF BRUGES
Mystery: God, Man’s Life, born into man
Of woman. There abideth on her brow
The ended pang of knowledge, the which now
Is calm assured. Since first her task began,
She hath known all. What more of anguish than
Endurance oft hath lived through, the whole space
Through night till night, passed weak upon her face
While like a heavy flood the darkness ran?
All hath been told her touching her dear Son,
And all shall be accomplished. Where he sits
Even now, a babe, he holds the symbol fruit
Perfect and chosen. Until God permits,
His soul’s elect still have the absolute
Harsh nether darkness, and make painful moan.
A MARRIAGE OF ST KATHARINE, BY THE SAME IN THE HOSPITAL OF ST JOHN AT BRUGES
Mystery: Katharine, the bride of Christ.
She kneels, and on her hand the holy Child
Setteth the ring. Her life is sad and mild,
Laid in God’s knowledge - ever unenticed
From Him, and in the end thus fitly priced.
Awe, and the music that is near her, wrought
Of Angels, hath possessed her eyes in thought:
Her utter joy is her’s, and hath sufficed.
There is a pause while Mary Virgin turns
The leaf, and reads. With eyes on the spread book,
That damsel at her knees reads after her.
John whom He loved and John His harbinger
Listen and watch. Whereon soe’er thou look,
The light is starred in gems, and the gold burns.
A VENETIAN PASTORAL, BY GIORGIONE IN THE LOUVRE (1850 VERSION)
(In this picture, two cavaliers and an undraped woman are seated in the grass, with musical instruments, while another woman dips a vase into a well hard by, for water.)
Water, for anguish of the solstice, - yea,
Over the vessel’s mouth still widening
Listlessly dipt to let the water in
With slow vague gurgle. Blue, and deep away,
The heat lies silent at the brink of day. 5
Now the hand trails upon the viol-string
That sobs; and the brown faces cease to sing,
Mournful with complete pleasure. Her eyes stray
In distance; through her lips the pipe doth creep
And leaves them pouting; the green shadowed grass 10
Is cool against her naked flesh. Let be:
Do not now speak unto her lest she weep, -
Nor name this ever. Be it as it was -
Silence of heat, and solemn poetry.
‘Pastoral Concert’ by Giorgione, 1508
RUGGIERO AND ANGELICA, BY INGRES
I
A remote sky, prolonged to the sea’s brim:
One rock-point standing buffeted alone,
Vexed at its base with a foul beast unknown,
Hell-birth of geomaunt and teraphim:
A knight, and a winged creature bearing him,
Reared at the rock: a woman fettered there,
Complete Poetical Works of Dante Gabriel Rossetti Page 3
