Índice Geral das Seções Índice da Seção Atual Νndice da Obra Atual Anterior: 4. Hylas Seguinte: 6. Pensamentos do Entardecer
(p. 20)
5.
TRΚS ENTARDECERES
IT WAS the hour of twilight, the sweet hour
Of holy calm, that
steals on human souls
Like the soft music of
an angels harp,
Heard in lifes sudden
pauses; a wild hymn
Of strange unearthly
sweetness, echoed down
From the celestial
portals, and anon
Sinking
to silence in a dying fall.
Slowly athwart the grey
empurpling heavens
The bearded evening
clouds swept slowly by
With ghostly arms
outstretched, and shadowy robes
Curling around them;
one by one they passed
In sad procession,
solemnly and still;
A crowd of phantoms
following to the tomb
The fair departed Day.
Far
in the west
Through hazy vapours and ascending mists
Of coming night, the
blood-red winter sun
Sank like a burning
ship into the sea,
Blazoning the heavens
with flame, and through the vault
(p. 21)
Of sombre
waters, kindling as it fell
A
fiery column, into darkness blent.
Southward, the surges
of a little bay
Slept in the ruddy
light, and evermore
The white-robed waves
like sleepy choristers
Beat out upon the shore
a drowsy chant,
Slow and monotonous,
and yet withal
So heavenly sweet that
every passing breeze
Folded its rustling
wings and paused awhile
Listening,
to catch the murmured harmony.
Beyond, a long white
line of rugged cliffs
Circled the little bay,
and at their base
Lay blocks of sandstone,
scattered up and down
Among the shingle,
motionless and stark,
Like Polydectes and his spell-bound guests
Beneath
the crumbling rafters of their hall.
Inland, some hundred
paces from the shore,
Just where the hollow
of a breaking hill
Shelved backward from
the summit of the cliff,
A tiny coppice cradled
in the rocks
Lifted its nut-brown
head, and there, hard by,
A lonely homestead like
a sea-gulls nest
Peeped
from the riddled sandstone. Here beneath
The moss-grown, lichened gable of the porch,
Full in the mellow
light of eventide,
Two stood together
silent, hand in hand
As lovers stand, a
fair-haired maiden, she,
(p. 22)
With trustful eyes of
blue like shaded wells
That
mirror all the heavens in silent depths;
He, a tall stalwart
youth, whose swarthy brows
Told of long toils
beneath a summer sun,
Misfortunes bravely
met, laborious days,
And
nights of weary watching out at sea.
Long time they stood
there silent, with their hands
Linked fast together like
a lovers knot;
She, full of tender
thought, and happy dreams
Of sweeter summer days
to come; and he
Gazing with earnest
eyes upon her face,
Like one that dares
not, and yet longs to speak.
Then breaking from her
suddenly, with a sigh,
Good night, he said,
good night, I must be gone,
Hester will wait for me
at home, good night;
One kiss before we part, and so farewell.
Must you go, Mark? it is not late, she said,
One moment, for the
sun is scarcely set,
We will not part so soon,
why look so strange?
What ails you? is there evil news afloat?
He took her hand in
his. O, Ellinor,
You love me, as you
say, and you will be
My wife, my wife,
the word is very sweet
And I must say it
often; O, my wife!
Nay, do not look at me,
for if I meet
(p. 23)
Those tender eyes of
yours, my coward lips
Will leave unsaid what
I have come to say.
You know me, Nelly; I
am very poor,
Ay, very poor, but I
have youth and strength,
And these can buy me
riches. Ellinor,
Say, can you trust me,
love? for we must part.
Part?
And the deep blue eyes looked up in his,
Half sad, half
doubtingly, as if they fain
Would read another
meaning on his lips;
Part? she said, lost
in wonder; and he gazed
Into her face and
answered, I have said.
And yet not I, it is
your fathers will;
He would not have you
wed with poverty,
And for the love he
bears you, we must part.
A few short years, no
more, and I return
No longer poor; across
the seas, they say,
Industry always reaps a
golden crop.
And we will have our
homestead on these hills,
You and I, Ellinor, my wife and I,
And
Hester and your father. But she gave
No sign nor answer, for
her heart was full
Of sudden dread and
bitterness, and then
A sense of rising tears
that choked all words,
Like notes of discord
breaking harshly in
On
lingering chords of tender melody.
You are not angry, Ellinor? you know
I love you more than
life, ay, how much more!
(p. 24)
Tell me; but no, not
now, not now, good night,
I heard your father
calling from the house,
Go to him, Nelly, I
have stayed too long.
And so they parted, and
adown the cliff
With faltering step he
passed, nor dared again
To turn and meet her
glance, lest he should read
Reproach or sadness in
it, and so yield
In one faint-hearted
moment of regret
His
wiser resolution to her tears.
Silent and motionless
meanwhile, she stood
Where he had left her,
with uncertain gaze
Watching him down the
pathway of the hill,
A mist before her eyes,
and at her heart
A strange dull sense of
cloudiness and gloom,
A falling darkness like
a shadow cast
By
some approaching evil.
Suddenly
Athwart her reveries
there came a voice
Calling her name, Ellinor! Ellinor!
Come hither, child, the
evening air grows cold,
Mark Anderson is gone,
why do you wait?
It was her fathers
voice. She turned, one look,
Ay, he was gone and
through the porch she passed.
Winter was spent, the last day now was gone,
And evening came, the
last sweet eventide:
(p. 25)
They sat together, Mark
and Ellinor,
Together on the
seaward-looking cliff,
Among the creviced
rocks and scattered crags
Of rifted boulder,
shadowy and weird
In
the strange glamour of the twilight fall.
And westward through
the white sea fog, the sun
Went down behind the
clouds, all round and red,
Shaping its image in
the glassy tide;
And he beheld it, and
anon his eyes
Sought out her face,
and passionately he broke
The silence of their
sorrow, speaking thus:
Nelly, see yonder, how
the setting sun
Now almost sunken in
those dusky clouds,
Yet leaves behind it,
its bright shadow, blent
In the dark waves; even
so, though we must part,
My thoughts, dear love,
shall bear you in their depths,
For you are all my
glory and my sun!
Alas! she answered,
GOD in heaven forbid!
For look you, Mark,
already, though the sun
Is scarcely hid, the
image of the moon
Sleeps in the fickle
waters: and she stole
Her hand in his, and
looked into his face,
Whispering, Mark,
shall it be thus with you?
A year was spent:
another winter passed,
And April smiled again
across the land,
Hanging the boughs with
blossom, and the earth
(p. 26)
Stood queenly, robed in
loveliness and crowned
With all the golden
glories of the Spring.
Filled were the woods
with music, and the air
Was sweet with perfume;
bright-eyed daffodils
Peered from the meadow
grass; the butterflies
Burst their dark prison
chrysalids, and soared
With
untried wings into the joyous light.
And homeward from the
sunny far-off south,
Came back the swallows,
and the woodlands thrilled
With newly wakened
carols; earth and heaven
Together laughed and
sang for very joy
That spring was come,
and winter was no more.
Mark Anderson was gone,
and Ellinor
Sat with his sister in
the cliff-built house
That had been his, (but
it was Hesters now,
For they were orphans,)
and again the sun
Set in the sea, and
through the open door
Streamed in the rosy
westward light, and fell
Askant the threshold, flooding all
the room.
O, Hester, what a
glorious sunset, look
How red the clouds are,
how the breakers flame
Along the shingle! I remember
well
It was an evening, just
as bright as this,
When Mark and I sat
last upon the cliff,
The day before he
sailed; a year agone:
(p. 27)
A year, ah me! how slowly time goes by!
And there has been no
letter for so long!
Nelly, I had a letter
yesterday.
A
letter! and from Mark? and
not for me?
What none for me? no message? not a word?
Why do you grow so
white, and turn your eyes
So
strangely on me? Sweet, what have I said?
Something is wrong. I
know! I know it all!
That letter, Hester,
it was not from him,
A stranger wrote it,
nay, for I am strong,
And I can bear to hear
it, Mark is dead!
Not dead! not that; O Nelly, would to heaven
Not dead! O GOD, what then? no, do not speak,
I read it in your face,
and mine own heart
Tells me at last the
evil day has come.
He wrote, Mark wrote
himself, but not to me.
I could have borne it,
had it been but death,
For death can part
indeed, but not estrange.
Have I guessed rightly?
Hester, Hester, speak!
O, Nelly, can you bear
it? GOD is good,
And we are weak and
foolish in our grief;
And sometimes, Nelly,
when we think it least,
GOD stands beside us, watching us, and yet
Like Mary Magdalen, we know Him not,
(p. 28)
Because our eyes like
hers are dimmed with tears,
And we are blind with
our own bitterness.
Ay, darling, lay your head upon my breast,
And put your hand in
mine, that I may know
You love me still. Ah,
me! and did I say
Mark was not dead? Ay,
he is dead to you,
For lie has found himself a wife, abroad,
And you may never think
on him again.
Then fell a sudden hush
upon the room,
A silence that was strange
and terrible,
Like a great shadow,
and the sun went down
And twilight fell
around, and they were left
Together
in the gloaming, all alone.
Índice Geral das Seções Índice da Seção Atual Νndice da Obra Atual Anterior: 4. Hylas Seguinte: 6. Pensamentos do Entardecer