Classic Poem

CAPUTXX

Sunrise. Golden arrows aiming
At the mists which whitely hover,
Till they redden as if wounded,
And dissolve in light and splendour.

So the struggle ends in triumph,
And the day, the mighty victor,
Plants his foot in dazzling glory
On the vanquished mountain's neck.

And the noisy feathered people
In their hidden houses twitter,
And a smell of herbs arises
Like a concert of sweet odours.

With the early dawn we started,
And descended to the valley.
While Lascaro followed nimbly
On the traces of his bear,

I made shift to speed the passage
Of the moments with my musing.
Thought, however, only wearied,
Also saddened me a little.

Weary, sad, at last I flung me
On a soft and mossy bed
By a great ash overshadowed,
Where a little brook was flowing.

The mysterious, gentle murmur
Fooled and charmed my soul so strangely,
That the thoughts I had been thinking
From my head entirely faded.

And a frantic yearning filled me
For a dream, for death, for madness,
For those fair and phantom riders
In the cavalcade of ghosts.

Oh, ye lovely midnight faces
That the fires of morning banished,
I would know where ye have fleeted,
Where by day ye have your dwelling!

Under ruins of old temples,
In the ancient far Romagna
Hides Diana (so they tell us)
From the noonday sway of Christ.

In the dark of midnight only
From her hiding-place she ventures:
Tastes again the joy of hunting,
With her pagan playmates riding.

And the lovely fay Abunde,
Of the Nazarenes mistrustful,
Through the sunlit hours seeks shelter
In the Isle of Avalon.

In that magic island hidden
In the far and quiet ocean
Of Romance, that none can win to
Save on wingid steeds of fable:

By whose shore care never anchors,
Where no steamer ever calls,
Landing Philistines intrusive,
Pipe in mouth, intent on prying:

Where no echo ever pierces
From our tiresome gloomy bells,
With their dreary ding-dong jangle
So detested by the fairies.

There, in mirth and joy untroubled,
And in youth that blooms immortal,
Dwells our sweet and merry lady,
Dwells our gay and blonde Abunde.

And she strolls with happy laughter,
While the sunflowers nod above her,
Wooing Paladins for courtiers,
Long departed from the earth.

Ah! but thou, Herodias, tell me
Where thou tarriest? — I know it!
Thou art dead, and liest buried
By the town Jerusalem.

With the dead by day thou sleepest
In thy cold and marble coffin;
But at midnight thou awakest
To the crack of whips and shouting;

And the frantic host thou joinest,
With Diana and Abunde,
With thy merry fellow-hunters,
Who abhor both cross and anguish.

Ah, companionship how blissful!
Could I only follow after
Through the forests! Thou, Herodias,
Art the one that I would ride by

For 'tis thou I love the dearest!
More than stately Grecian goddess,
More than laughing northland fairy,
I adore thee, Jewess dead!

Yes, I love thee! By the trembling
Of my soul I know I love thee.
Love thou me, and be my darling,
Sweet Herodias, fairest woman!

Love thou me, and be my darling!
Hurl away the bloody charger
With the stupid head, and glut thee
On a dish of better savour.

I am just the knight thou needest —
What care I that damned already,
Dead and damned thou art for ever —
Free from prejudice am I —

As regards my own salvation
There's some hitch, I rather fancy,
I am often very doubtful
Of my place among the living.

As thy faithful knight engage me —
As thy cavalier servente —
I will bear thy mantle gladly,
And thy whims, without a murmur.

Every midnight I will gallop
In the reckless rout beside thee;
We will talk and laugh together
At my wild and foolish speeches.

I will while away and shorten
Thus the night; but joy will vanish
With the dawn of day; then, weeping,
I will sit upon thy tomb.

I will sit me down and weep there
On the crumbled tomb of kings,
On the grave of my beloved,
By the town Jerusalem.

And the ancient Jews, in passing,
Will imagine that I mourn
The destruction of the Temple
And the town Jerusalem.