Índice Geral das Seções Índice da Seção Atual Índice da Obra Atual Anterior: 7. Morte de Santo Estevão Seguinte: 9. A Janela de Oriel
(p. 32)
8.
NA LUZ DO FOGO
SWEETHEART, the wind is loud about the house,
The breakers hiss upon
the distant shore,
And through the tangled
clouds, the spectre moon
Flies headlong, like a
terror-stricken roe
Before
the demon hunters of the storm.
Ay, draw the curtains
close, ’tis bitter cold,
Put by that musty book,
and sit you here
Beside me in the
pleasant flickering
Of
the warm firelight. Now methinks we seem
To be ourselves the living
counterpart
Of those time-mellowed
pictures on the walls
That the old masters
painted, years gone by,
Half tender shadow and
half ruddy glow.
Nay, darling, lay those papers all aside,
I shall not write this
evening, I am sad,
For strangers, child,
have stolen my thoughts away,
And sung ‘my songs
before me, and my soul
Wrapt
in a cloak of silence stands apart;
(p. 33)
And they may laugh and
glory in their wit,
I care not, –– it was
mine as well as theirs,
Mine first, perchance;
but I will give no sign,
Lest they should think
me poor who robbed me most.
Your eyes reproach me,
darling; –– I am weak,
We all are foolish children
at the best,
I most of all; –– forgive
me, for I spoke
In bitterness, and I am
sick at heart.
Yet this becomes me
not, nor is it well
I should be jealous
that some wandering bard
Other than I, hath
haply seen and pluck’d
These flowers of fancy,
blooming in the spring
Of
fertile genius. I beheld them first,
Being far off, but he
who pluck’d was near.
Was he to blame? Should
I have done the like,
Or left them for
another? Ah, I know
I should have gathered
them, and justly too.
Come closer,
sweetheart, lay your hand in mine,
And tell me some sweet
tale of long ago,
That dreamy “long ago,”
that evermore
Seems fairer, –– like
the fair face of a bride, ––
Through the soft veil
of years,
Ah,
well-a-day!
We sit entranced beside
a golden lake
And shape sweet pictures
in its luminous depths,
Not knowing that the
glories we behold
Are but the mirage of a
purer sky
(p. 34)
Above us, –– the foreshadowing
of things
That shall hereafter
be.
But
better far,
Sweetheart, to stand as
now I seem to stand
Upon the summit of a
mighty hill,
The Mountain of the
Present Age, and view
Far off across the
misty
The broad low light of
coming Dawn, that grows
And
widens slowly up the murky sky.
Sweetheart! the day will break, but not for me,
I shall not look on it;
but it will come,
Ay, it will surely
come, –– a glorious day
Of knowledge and of
liberty, –– a day
Of universal
brotherhood and peace;
A day of truth and
wisdom, when these storms
Of petty strifes that set the world ajar,
These jealousies and
tyrannies of power,
Shall all be put to
silence, as of old,
The poets say, that at
the Voice of GOD,
Melodious Order robed
in Light arose
Through gloomy chaos,
and confusion ceased.
Índice Geral das Seções Índice da Seção Atual Índice da Obra Atual Anterior: 7. Morte de Santo Estevão Seguinte: 9. A Janela de Oriel