Fringilla: Some Tales in Verse - Richard Doddridge Blackmore (read aloud books .TXT) 📗

/> Pausias

"Not swift alone, but passing sweet for me."

Glycera

"The world, that was so large, is you and I."

Pausias

"And shall be larger still, when it is 'We.'"

Glycera

(Aside) "Sweet dual! Alas, that this shall never be!"

Pausias

"A tear, bright Glycera in those eyes of thine,
Those tender eyes, that should with triumph shine!
When I, the owner of that precious heart,
Am shouting Ioe Paean of high art;
The noblest picture underneath the sun--
A few more strokes, and victory is won!"

Glycera

"Nay, heed me not. True pleasure is not dry;
The sunrise of the heart bedews the eye."

Pausias

"If that were all--but lately there hath been
A listless air beneath thy livery mien;
Thyself art all fair petal, and sweet perfume,
And smiles that light the damask of thy bloom;
Yet some, pale distance seems to chill the whole."

Glycera

"Forgive me, love, forgive a timorous soul.
Through brightest hours untimely vapours rise--
But while I prate, the lucky moment flies.
The work, the weather, and the world are fair;
A few more strokes--and fame flies everywhere."

Pausias

"Who cares for fame, except with love to share?"

Glycera

"To share! Nay every breath of it is mine,
Whene'er it breathes on thee; for I am thine.
But pardon now--if I have seemed sometime
Impatient, glib, too pert for things sublime,
Remember that I meant not so to sink;
Forgive your Glycera, when you come to think."

Pausias

"I'll not forgive my Glycera--until
She hath discovered how to do some ill.
Now don once more this coronet of bloom,
While lilies sweet thy sweeter breast illume."

Glycera

(Aside) "Ah me, what brightness wasted upon gloom!
(Aloud) Oh fling thy sponge across this wretched face,
A patch uncouth amid a world of grace."

Pausias

"Sweet love, thy beauty far outshineth them;
The tinsel they are, thou the living gem.
Great gift of Gods! Shall flowers of earth despise
Those flowers of heaven--thy tresses, and thine eyes?
Away with gloom I let no ill-boding make
My heart to falter, or my hand to shake.
One hour is all I crave. If that be long,
Sweet lips beguile it with my favourite song."

Glycera

"A song like mine, a childish lullaby,
Will close--when needed wide-awake--thine eye.
But since thou so demandest, let me try.

"In the fresh woods have I been,
Sprinkled with the morning dew;
And of all that I have seen,
Lo, the fairest are for you!

Take your choice of many a flower,
Lily, rose, and melilot,
Lilac, myrtle, virgin's bower,
Pansy, and forget-me-not.

Ladies'-tresses, and harebell,
Jasmin, daphne, violet,
Meadow-sweet, and pimpernel,
Maidenhair, and mignonette.

What is gold, that doth allure
Foolish hearts from field and flower?
If you plant them in it pure,
Will they keep alive an hour?

What is fame, compared with these,
Fame of wisdom, sword, or pen?
Who would quit the meadow breeze,
For the sultry breath of men?

These have been my childhood's love,
These my maiden visions were;
When I meet their gaze above,
These will tell me, God is there."

Pausias

"'Tis done! No more the palsied doubt molests;
The crown of glory on my labour rests.
Thy clear voice hath my flagging thoughts supplied,
My model thou, my teacher, and my bride!
Now stand, beloved one, where the soft glow lies,
Yet judge not rashly, ere the colour dries.
Find every fault, pick every flaw thou canst;
I'll not be vexed; true art is thus advanced.
So meek is art, that (when it comprehends)
It loves the carping of its dearest friends.
If my own bride condemns my efforts--let her.
A poor daub? Well let some one do it better."

Glycera

"My love, my lord, my monarch of high art,
Forgive a tongue held fast and bound by heart.
Not Orpheus, Linus, or great Hermes could
Find words to make their rapture understood.
No Muse, no Phoebus, hath this work inspired,
But Jove himself, with heaven's own splendour fired.
I see the nursing fingers of the day,
And night as well, upon their offspring play--
The silent glide of moon, that hushed their sleep,
(As mother at her infant steals a peep)
Anon, with pearly glances half withdrawn,
The gentle hesitation of the dawn;
I see the sun his golden target raise,
And drive in tremulous ranks the woodland haze;
Awakened by whose call the flowers arise,
With tears of joy and blushes of surprise;
From bulb and bush, from leaf and blade, spring up
Bell, disk, or star, plume, sceptre, fan, or cup;
A thousand forms, a thousand hues of bloom
Fill earth and heaven with beauty and perfume.
All this, by thine enchantment, liveth here;
Oh wondrous power, that chills my pride with fear!"

Pausias

"Thy praise, sweet critic, makes thee doubly dear.
But what of thy fair self--thy form, thy face,
The flower of flowers, the gracefulness of grace?"

Glycera

"I see why thou hast placed me among these;
I serve a purpose--'tis to scare the bees.
Sweet love hath right to place me anywhere;
And yet I mourn, to find myself so fair."

Pausias

"A maid lament her beauty! Thou hast shown,
A thousand times, a wit beyond mine own;
Yet is it kind to such a love as mine,
To grudge it refuge in a lovely shrine?"

Glycera

"No shrine, no throne, of earth or heaven above,
Can be too fair a dwelling-place for love.
But that which makes me grieve, myself to see,
Is memory of the bitter loss to thee;
That earthly charms--as men such things esteem--
Should tantalize thee, in a weeping dream!"

Pausias

"My own, my only love, what wouldst thou say?
My heart hath borne a heavy bode, all day."

Glycera

"I durst not tell thee, till thy work was done;
But now I must, before the setting sun.
Last night, when life was lapsed in quietude,
Beside my couch a stately figure stood--
A virgin form, in garb of chace arrayed,
With bow and quiver, baldric, and steel blade;
Majestic as a palm that scorns the wind,
And taller than the daughters of mankind
Twas Artemis, close-girt in silver sheen,
The Goddess of the woods, the Maiden-queen.
Cold terror seized me, and mute awe, the while
She oped her proud lips, with an icy smile--
'Whose votary art thou? Shall I resign
'To wanton Cypris this sworn nymph of mine?
'Have I enfeoffed thee of my holiest glen?
'To have thee tainted by the lips of men?
'Shall urchin Eros laugh at my decree?
'No Hymen torch, no loosened zone