The Poems And Prose Of Ernest Dowson, With A Memoir By Arthur Symons - The Poems and Prose of Ernest Dowson, With a Memoir by Arthur Symons Part 9
Library

The Poems and Prose of Ernest Dowson, With a Memoir by Arthur Symons Part 9

PIERROT Then, sweet Moon Maiden, in some magic car, Wrought wondrously of many a homeless star-- Such must attend thy journeys through the skies,-- Drawn by a team of milk-white butterflies, Whom, with soft voice and music of thy maids, Thou urgest gently through the heavenly glades; Mount me beside thee, bear me far away From the low regions of the solar day; Over the rainbow, up into the moon, Where is thy palace and thine opal throne; There on thy bosom--

THE LADY Too ambitious boy!

I did but promise thee one hour of joy.

This tour thou plannest, with a heart so light, Could hardly be completed in a night.

Hast thou no craving less remote than this?

PIERROT Would it be impudent to beg a kiss?

THE LADY I say not that: yet prithee have a care!

Often audacity has proved a snare.

How wan and pale do moon-kissed roses grow-- Dost thou not fear my kisses, Pierrot?

PIERROT As one who faints upon the Libyan plain Fears the oasis which brings life again!

THE LADY Where far away green palm trees seem to stand May be a mirage of the wreathing sand.

PIERROT Nay, dear enchantress, I consider naught, Save mine own ignorance, which would be taught.

THE LADY Dost thou persist?

PIERROT I do entreat this boon!

[_She bends forward, their lips meet: she withdraws with a petulant shiver.

She utters a peal of clear laughter._]

THE LADY Why art thou pale, fond lover of the moon?

PIERROT Cold are thy lips, more cold than I can tell Yet would I hang on them, thine icicle!

Cold is thy kiss, more cold than I could dream Arctus sits, watching the Boreal stream: But with its frost such sweetness did conspire That all my veins are filled with running fire; Never I knew that life contained such bliss As the divine completeness of a kiss.

THE LADY Apt scholar! so love's lesson has been taught, Warning, as usual, has gone for naught.

PIERROT Had all my schooling been of this soft kind, To play the truant I were less inclined.

Teach me again! I am a sorry dunce-- I never knew a task by conning once.

THE LADY Then come with me! below this pleasant shrine Of Venus we will presently recline, Until birds' twitter beckon me away To mine own home, beyond the milky-way.

I will instruct thee, for I deem as yet Of Love thou knowest but the alphabet.

PIERROT In its sweet grammar I shall grow most wise, If all its rules be written in thine eyes.

[_The lady sits upon a step of the temple, And Pierrot leans upon his elbow at her feet, regarding her._]

PIERROT Sweet contemplation! how my senses yearn To be thy scholar always, always learn.

Hold not so high from me thy radiant mouth, Fragrant with all the spices of the South; Nor turn, O sweet! thy golden face away, For with it goes the light of all my day.

Let me peruse it, till I know by rote Each line of it, like music, note by note; Raise thy long lashes, Lady! smile again: These studies profit me.

[_Taking her hand._]

THE LADY Refrain, refrain!

PIERROT[_With passion._]

I am but studious, so do not stir; Thou art my star, I thine astronomer!

Geometry was founded on thy lip.

[_Kisses her hand._]

THE LADY This attitude becomes not scholarship!

Thy zeal I praise; but, prithee, not so fast, Nor leave the rudiments until the last.

Science applied is good, but 'twere a schism To study such before the catechism, Bear thee more modestly, while I submit Some easy problems to confirm thy wit.

PIERROT In all humility my mind I pit Against her problems which would test my wit.

THE LADY [_Questioning him from a little book bound deliciously in vellum._]

What is Love?

Is it a folly, Is it mirth, or melancholy?

Joys above, Are there many, or not any?

What is love?

PIERROT[_Answering in a very humble attitude of scholarship._]

If you please, A most sweet folly!

Full of mirth and melancholy; Both of these!

In its sadness worth all gladness, If you please!

THE LADY Prithee where, Goes Love a-hiding?

Is he long in his abiding Anywhere?

Can you bind him when you find him; Prithee, where?

PIERROT With spring days Love comes and dallies: Upon the mountains, through the valleys Lie Love's ways.

Then he leaves you and deceives you In spring days.

THE LADY Thine answers please me: 'tis thy turn to ask.

To meet thy questioning be now my task.

PIERROT Since I know thee, dear Immortal, Is my heart become a blossom, To be worn upon thy bosom.

When thou turn me from this portal, Whither shall I, hapless mortal, Seek love out and win again Heart of me that thou retain?

THE LADY In and out the woods and valleys, Circling, soaring like a swallow, Love shall flee and thou shalt follow: Though he stops awhile and dallies, Never shalt thou stay his malice!

Moon-kissed mortals seek in vain To possess their hearts again!

PIERROT Tell me, Lady, shall I never Rid me of this grievous burden!

Follow Love and find his guerdon In no maiden whatsoever?

Wilt thou hold my heart for ever?

Rather would I thine forget, In some earthly Pierrette!

THE LADY Thus thy fate, whate'er thy will is!

Moon-struck child, go seek my traces Vainly in all mortal faces!

In and out among the lilies, Court each rural Amaryllis: Seek the signet of Love's hand In each courtly Corisande!

PIERROT Now, verily, sweet maid, of school I tire: These answers are not such as I desire.

THE LADY Why art thou sad?