O goodliest fellowship that the world has known, True hearts and stalwart arms! above your b.r.e.a.s.t.s Glitters no flash of wreathen amulet Forged against sword-stroke by the chanted rhythm Of charms accurst; but in each steadfast heart Blazes the light of cloudless purity, That like a splendid jewel glorifies With restless fire the gold that spheres it round, And marks you children of our G.o.d, whose lives He guards with the awful jealousy of love.

And even me that generous love has spared,-- Me, trustless knight and miserable man,-- Sad prey of dark and mutinous thoughts that tempt My sick soul into perjury and death-- Since His great love had pity on my pain, Has spared to lead these blameless warriors safe Into the desert from the blazing towns, Out of the desert to the inviolate hills Where G.o.d has roofed them with His hollow shield.

Through all these days of tempest and eclipse His hand has led me and His wrath has flashed Its lightnings in the pathway of my sword.

And so I hope, and so my crescent faith Gains daily power, that all my prayers and tears And toils and blood and anguish borne for Him May blot the accusing of my deadly sin From heavens high compt, and give me rest in death; And lay the pallid ghost of mortal love, That fills with banned and mournful loveliness, Unblest, the haunted chambers of my soul.

My misery will atone,--my misery,-- Dear G.o.d, will surely atone! for not the sting Of lacerating thongs, nor the slow horror Of crowns of th.o.r.n.y iron maddening the brows, Nor all that else pale hermits have devised To scourge the rebel senses in their shade Of caverned desolation, have the power To smart and goad and lash and mortify Like the great love that binds my ruined heart Relentless, as the insidious ivy binds The shattered bulk of some deserted tower, Enlacing slow and riving with strong hands Of pitiless verdure every seam and jut, Till none may tear it forth and save the tower.

So binds and masters me my hopeless love.

So through the desert, in the silent hills, I' the current of the battle's storm and stress, One thought has driven me,--that though men may call Me stainless Paladin, Knight leal and true To Christ and Our Lady, still I know myself A knight not after G.o.d's own heart, a soul Recreant, and whelmed in the forbidden sin.

For dearer to my sad heart than the cross I give my heart's best blood for are the eyes That long ago, when youth and hope were mine, I loved in thy still valleys, far Provence!

And sweeter to my spirit than the bells Of rescued Salem are the loving tones Of her dear voice, soft echoing o'er the years.

They haunt me in the stillness and the glare Of desert noontide when the horizon's line Swims faintly throbbing, and my shadow hides Skulking beneath me from the bra.s.sy sky.

And when night comes to soothe with breath of balm And pomp of stars the worn and weary world, Her eyes rise in my soul and make its day.

And even into the battle comes my love, s.n.a.t.c.hing the duty that I offer Heaven.

At closing of El-Majed's awful day, When the last quivering sunbeams, choked with dust And fume of blood, failed on the level plain, In the last charge, when gathered all our knights The precious handful who from morn had stemmed The fury of the mult.i.tudinous hosts Of Islam, where in youth's hot fire and pride Ramped the young lion-whelp, Ben-Saladin; As down the slope we rode at eventide, The dying sunlight faintly smiled to greet Our tattered guidons and our dinted helms And lance-heads blooming with the battle's rose.

Into the vale, dusk with the shadow of death, With silent lips and ringing mail we rode.

And something in the spirit of the hour, Or fate, or memory, or sorrow, or sin, Or love, which unto me is all of these, Possessed and bound me; for when dashed our troop In stormy clangour on the Paynim lines The soul of my dead youth came into me; Faded away my oath; the woes of Zion, G.o.d was forgot; blazed in my leaping heart, With instant flash, life's inextinguished fires; Plunging along each tense limb poured the blood Hot with its years of sleeping-smothered flame.

And in a dream I charged, and in a dream I smote resistless; foemen in my path Fell unregarded, like the wayside flowers Clipped by the truant's staff in daisied lanes.

For over me burned l.u.s.trous the dear eyes Of my beloved; I strove as at a joust To gain at end the guerdon of her smile.

And ever, as in the dense melee I dashed, Her name burst from my lips, as lightning breaks Out of the plunging wrack of summer storms.

O my lost love! Bright o'er the waste of years-- That bliss and beauty shines upon my soul; As far beyond yon desert hangs the sun, Gilding with tender beam the barren stretch Of sands that intervene. In this still light The old sweet memories glimmer back to me, Fair summers of my youth,--the idle days I wandered in the bosky coverts hid In the dim woods that girt my ancient home; The blue young eyes I met and worshipped there; The love that growing turned those gloomy wilds To faery dells, and filled the vernal air With light that bathed the hills of Paradise; The warm, long days of rapturous summer-time, When through the forests thick and lush we strayed, And love made our own sunshine in the shades.

And all things fair and graceful in the woods I loved with liberal heart; the violets Were dear for her dear eyes, the quiring birds That caught the musical tremble of her voice.

O happy twilights in the leafy glooms!

When in the glowing dusk the winsome arts And maiden graces that all day had kept Us twain and separate melted away In blushing silence, and my love was mine Utterly, utterly, with clinging arms And quick, caressing fingers, warm red lips, Where vows, half uttered, drowned in kisses, died; Mine, with the starlight in her pa.s.sionate eyes; The wild wind of the woodland breathing low To wake the elfin music of the leaves, And free the prisoned odours of the flowers, In honour of young Love come to his throne!

While we under the stars, with twining arms And mutual lips insatiate, gave our souls-- Madly forgetting earth and heaven--to love!

In desert march or battle flame, In fortress and in field, Our war-cry is thy holy name, Thy love our joy and shield!

And if we falter, let thy power Thy stern avenger be, And G.o.d forget us in the hour We cease to think of thee!

Curse me not, G.o.d of Justice and of Love!

Pitiful G.o.d, let my long woe atone!

I cannot deem but G.o.d has pitied me; Else why with painful care have I been saved, Whenever tossed and drenched in the fierce tide Of Saladin's victories by the walls profaned Of Jaffa, on the sands of far Daroum, Or in the battle thundering on the downs Of Ramlah, or the b.l.o.o.d.y day that shed Red horrors on high Gaza's parapets?

For never a storm of fatal fight has raged In Islam's track of rout and ruin swept From Egypt to Gebail, but when the ebb Of battle came I and my host have lain, Scarred, scorched, safe somewhere on its fiery sh.o.r.e.

At Marcab's lingering siege, where day by day We told the Moslem legions toiling slow, Planting their engines, delving in their mines To quench in our destruction this last light Of Christendom, our fortress in the crags, G.o.d's beacon swung defiant from the stars; One thunderous night I knew their miners groped Below, and thought ere morn to die, in crush And tumult of the falling citadel.

And pondering of my fate--the broken storm Sobbing its life away--I was aware There grew between me and the quieting skies A face and form I knew,--not as in dreams, The sad dishevelled loveliness of earth, But lighter than the thin air where she swayed,-- Gold hair flame-fluttered, eyes and mouth aglow With lambent light of spiritual joy.

With sweet command she beckoned me away And led me vaguely dreaming, till I saw Where the wild flood in sudden fury had burst A pa.s.sage through the rocks: and thence I led My host unharmed, following her luminous eyes, Until the east was grey, and with a smile Wooing me heavenward still she pa.s.sed away Into the rosy trouble of the dawn.

And I believe my love is shrived in heaven, And I believe that I shall soon be free.

For ever, as I journey on, to me Waking or sleeping come faint whisperings And fancies not of earth, as if the gates Of near eternity stood for me ajar, And ghostly gales come blowing o'er my soul Fraught with the amaranth odours of the skies.

I go to join the Lion-Heart at Acre, And there, after due homage to my liege, And after patient penance of the Church, And after final devoir in the fight, If that my G.o.d be gracious, I shall die.

And so I pray--Lord, pardon if I sin!-- That I may lose in death's embittered wave The stain of sinful loving, and may find In glory again the love I lost below, With all of fair and bright and unattained, Beautiful in the cherishing smile of G.o.d, By the glad waters of the River of Life!

Night hangs above the valley; dies the day In peace, casting his last glance on my cross, And warns me to my prayers. Ave Maria!

Mother of G.o.d! the evening fades On wave and hill and lea, And in the twilight's deepening shades We lift our souls to thee!

In pa.s.sion's stress--the battle's strife, The desert's lurking harms, Maid-Mother of the Lord of Life Protect thy men-at-arms!

TRANSLATIONS.

THE WAY TO HEAVEN.

FROM THE GERMAN.

One day the Sultan, grand and grim, Ordered the Mufti brought to him.

"Now let thy wisdom solve for me The question I shall put to thee.

"The different tribes beneath my sway Four several sects of priests obey; Now tell me which of all the four Is on the path to Heaven's door."

The Sultan spake, and then was dumb.

The Mufti looked about the room, And straight made answer to his lord, Fearing the bowstring at each word:

"Thou, G.o.dlike in thy lofty birth, Who art our Allah upon earth, Illume me with thy favouring ray, And I will answer as I may.

"Here, where thou thronest in thy hall, I see there are four doors in all; And through all four thy slaves may gaze Upon the brightness of thy face.

"That I came hither safely through Was to thy gracious message due, And, blinded by thy splendour's flame, I cannot tell the way I came."

COUNTESS JUTTA.

FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINRICH HEINE.

The Countess Jutta pa.s.sed over the Rhine In a light canoe by the moon's pale shine.

The handmaid rows and the Countess speaks: "Seest thou not there where the water breaks Seven corpses swim In the moonlight dim?

So sorrowful swim the dead!

"They were seven knights full of fire and youth, They sank on my heart and swore me truth.

I trusted them; but for Truth's sweet sake, Lest they should be tempted their oaths to break, I had them bound, And tenderly drowned!

So sorrowful swim the dead!"

The merry Countess laughed outright!

It rang so wild in the startled night!

Up to the waist the dead men rise And stretch lean fingers to the skies.

They nod and stare With a gla.s.sy glare!

So sorrowful swim the dead!