Personae.

by Ezra Pound.

Grace before Song

Lord G.o.d of heaven that with mercy dight Th' alternate prayer-wheel of the night and light Eternal hath to thee, and in whose sight Our days as rain drops in the sea surge fall,

As bright white drops upon a leaden sea Grant so my songs to this grey folk may be:

As drops that dream and gleam and falling catch the sun, Evan'scent mirrors every opal one Of such his splendour as their compa.s.s is, So, bold My Songs, seek ye such death as this.

La Fraisne[1]

SCENE: _The Ash Wood of Malvern._

For I was a gaunt, grave councillor Being in all things wise, and very old, But I have put aside this folly and the cold That old age weareth for a cloak.

I was quite strong--at least they said so-- The young men at the sword-play; But I have put aside this folly, being gay In another fashion that more suiteth me.

I have curled mid the boles of the ash wood, I have hidden my face where the oak Spread his leaves over me, and the yoke Of the old ways of men have I cast aside.

By the still pool of Mar-nan-otha Have I found me a bride That was a dog-wood tree some syne.

She hath called me from mine old ways She hath hushed my rancour of council, Bidding me praise

Naught but the wind that flutters in the leaves.

She hath drawn me from mine old ways, Till men say that I am mad; But I have seen the sorrow of men, and am glad, For I know that the wailing and bitterness are a folly.

And I? I have put aside all folly and all grief.

I wrapped my tears in an ellum leaf And left them under a stone And now men call me mad because I have thrown All folly from me, putting it aside To leave the old barren ways of men, Because my bride Is a pool of the wood, and Though all men say that I am mad It is only that I am glad, Very glad, for my bride hath toward me a great love That is sweeter than the love of women That plague and burn and drive one away.

Aie-e! 'Tis true that I am gay Quite gay, for I have her alone here And no man troubleth us.

Once when I was among the young men....

And they said I was quite strong, among the young men.

Once there was a woman....

.... but I forget.... she was....

.... I hope she will not come again.

.... I do not remember....

I think she hurt me once, but....

That was very long ago.

I do not like to remember things any more.

I like one little band of winds that blow In the ash trees here: For we are quite alone Here mid the ash trees.

[Footnote 1: Prefatory note at end of volume.]

Cino

_Italian Campagna_ 1309, _the open road._

Bah! I have sung women in three cities, But it is all the same; And I will sing of the sun.

Lips, words, and you snare them, Dreams, words, and they are as jewels, Strange spells of old deity, Ravens, nights, allurement: And they are not; Having become the souls of song.

Eyes, dreams, lips, and the night goes.

Being upon the road once more, They are not.

Forgetful in their towers of our tuneing Once for Wind-runeing They dream us-toward and Sighing, say, "Would Cino, Pa.s.sionate Cino, of the wrinkling eyes, Gay Cino, of quick laughter, Cino, of the dare, the jibe, Frail Cino, strongest of his tribe That tramp old ways beneath the sun-light, Would Cino of the Luth were here!"

Once, twice, a year-- Vaguely thus word they:

"Cino?" "Oh, eh, Cino Polnesi The singer is't you mean?"

"Ah yes, pa.s.sed once our way, A saucy fellow, but....

(Oh they are all one these vagabonds), Peste! 'tis his own songs?

Or some other's that he sings?

But _you_, My Lord, how with your city?

But you "My Lord," G.o.d's pity!

And all I knew were out, My Lord, you Were Lack-land Cino, e'en as I am, O Sinistro.

I have sung women in three cities.

But it is all one.

I will sing of the sun.

.... eh?.... they mostly had grey eyes, But it is all one, I will sing of the sun.

"'Pollo Phoibee, old tin pan, you Glory to Zeus' aegis-day, Shield o' steel-blue, th' heaven o'er us Hath for boss thy l.u.s.tre gay!

'Pollo Phoibee, to our way-fare Make thy laugh our wander-lied; Bid thy 'fulgence bear away care.

Cloud and rain-tears pa.s.s they fleet!

Seeking e'er the new-laid rast-way To the gardens of the sun....

I have sung women in three cities But it is all one.