Chapter VII

Be sped, my Canzon, through the bitter air!
To him who speaketh words as fair as these,
Say that I also know the “Yearly Slain.”

KORÈ

From the “Poems of Frederic Manning,” published by John
Murray, with whose permission we here reprint it.

Yea, she hath passed hereby and blessed the sheaves
And the great garths and stacks and quiet farms,
And all the tawny and the crimson leaves,
Yea, she hath passed with poppies in her arms
Under the star of dusk through stealing mist
And blest the earth and gone while no man wist.

With slow reluctant feet and weary eyes
And eyelids heavy with the coming sleep,
With small breasts lifted up in stress of sighs,
She passed as shadows pass amid the sheep
While the earth dreamed and only I was ware
Of that faint fragrance blown from her soft hair.

The land lay steeped in peace of silent dreams,
There was no sound amid the sacred boughs
Nor any mournful music in her streams,
Only I saw the shadow on her brows,
Only I knew her for the Yearly Slain
And wept, and weep until she come again.

CANZON: THE SPEAR

[This fashion of stanza is used by Jaufre Rudel in the song
“_D’un amor de lonh_.”
The measure is to be sung rather than spoken.]

I

’Tis the clear light of love I praise
That steadfast gloweth o’er deep waters,
A clarity that gleams always.
Though man’s soul pass through troubled waters,
Strange ways to him are opened.
To shore the beaten ship is sped
If only love of light give aid.

II

That fair far spear of light now lays
Its long gold shaft upon the waters.
Ah! might I pass upon its rays
To where it gleams beyond the waters,
Or might my troubled heart be fed
Upon the frail clear light there shed,
Then were my pain at last allay’d.

III

Although the clouded storm dismays
Many a heart upon these waters,
The thought of that far golden blaze
Giveth me heart upon the waters,
Thinking thereof my bark is led
To port wherein no storm I dread;
No tempest maketh me afraid.

IV

Yet when within my heart I gaze
Upon my fair beyond the waters,
Meseems my soul within me prays
To pass straightway beyond the waters.
Though I be alway banished
From ways and woods that she doth tread,
One thing there is that doth not fade,

V

Deep in my heart that spear-print stays,
That wound I gat beyond the waters,
Deeper with passage of the days
That pass as swift and bitter waters,
While a dull fire within my head
Moveth itself if word be said
Which hath concern with that far maid.

VI

My love is lovelier than the sprays
Of eglantine above clear waters,
Or whitest lilies that upraise
Their heads in midst of moated waters.
No poppy in the May-glad mead
Would match her quivering lips’ red
If ’gainst her lips it should be laid.

VII

The light within her eyes, which slays
Base thoughts and stilleth troubled waters,
Is like the gold where sunlight plays
Upon the still o’ershadowed waters.
When anger is there minglèd
There comes a keener gleam instead,
Like flame that burns beneath thin jade.