an anthology of australian verse-第21章
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A hundred years ago。
Perchance; he saw in dreams
Beside our sunlit streams
In some majestic hour
Old England's banners blow;
Mayhap; the radiant morn
Of this great nation born;
August with perfect power;
A hundred years ago。
We know not; yet for thee
Far may the season be;
Whose harp in shameful sleep
Is soundless lying low!
Far be the noteless hour
That holds of fame no flower
For those who dared our deep
A hundred years ago。
M。 A。 Sinclair。
The Chatelaine
I have built one; so have you;
Paved with marble; domed with blue;
Battlement and ladies' bower;
Donjon keep and watchman's tower。
I have climbed; as you have done;
To the tower at set of sun
Crying from its parlous height;
〃Watchman; tell us of the night。〃
I have stolen at midnight bell;
Like you; to the secret cell;
Shuddering at its charnel breath
Left lockfast the spectre; Death。
I have used your lure to call
Choice guests to my golden hall:
Rarely welcome; rarely free
To my hospitality。
In a glow of rosy light
Hours; like minutes; take their flight
As from you they fled away;
When; like you; I bade them stay。
Ah! the pretty flow of wit;
And the good hearts under it;
While the wheels of life go round
With a most melodious sound。
Not a vestige anywhere
Of our grim familiar; Care
Roses! from the trees of yore
Blooming by the rivers four。
Not a jar; and not a fret;
Ecstasy and longing met。
But why should I thus define
Is not your chateau like mine?
Scarcely were it strange to meet
In that magic realm so sweet;
So! I'll take this dreamland train
Bound for my chateau in Spain。
Sydney Jephcott。
Chaucer
O gracious morning eglantine;
Making the far old English ways divine!
Though from thy stock our mateless rose was bred;
Staining the world's skies with its red;
Our garden gives no scent so fresh as thine;
Sweet; thorny…seeming eglantine。
White Paper
Smooth white paper 'neath the pen;
Richest field that iron ploughs;
Germinating thoughts of men;
Though no heaven its rain allows;
Till they ripen; thousand fold;
And our spirits reap the corn;
In a day…long dream of gold;
Food for all the souls unborn。
Like the murmur of the earth;
When we listen stooping low;
Like the sap that sings in mirth;
Hastening up the trees that grow;
Evermore a tiny song
Sings the pen unto it; while
Thought's elixir flows along;
Diviner than the holy Nile。
Greater than the sphering sea;
For it holds the sea and land;
Seed of all ideas to be
Down its current borne like sand。
How our fathers in the dark
Pored on it the plans obscure;
By star…light or stake…fires stark
Tracing there the path secure。
The poor paper drawn askance
With the spell of Truth half…known;
Holds back Hell of ignorance;
Roaring round us; thronged; alone。
O white list of champions;
Spirit born; and schooled for fight;
Mailed in armour of the sun's
Who shall win our utmost right!
Think of paper lightly sold;
Which few pence had made too dear
On its blank to have enscrolled
Beatrice; Lucifer; or Lear!
Think of paper Milton took;
Written; in his hands to feel;
Musing of what things a look
Down its pages would reveal。
O the glorious Heaven wrought
By Cadmean souls of yore;
From pure element of thought!
And thy leaves they are its door!
Light they open; and we stand
Past the sovereignty of Fate;
Glad amongst them; calm and grand;
The Creators and Create!
Splitting
Morning。
Out from the hut at break of day;
And up the hills in the dawning grey;
With the young wind flowing
From the blue east; growing
Red with the white sun's ray!
Lone and clear as a deep…bright dream
Under mid…night's and mid…slumber's stream;
Up rises the mount against the sunrise shower;
Vast as a kingdom; fair as a flower:
O'er it doth the foam of foliage ream
In vivid softness serene;
Pearly…purple and marble green;
Clear in their mingling tinges;
Up away to the crest that fringes
Skies studded with cloud…crags sheen。
Day。
Like birds frayed from their lurking…shaw;
Like ripples fleet 'neath a furious flaw;
The echoes re…echo; flying
Down from the mauls hot…plying;
Clatter the axes; grides the saw。
Ruddy and white the chips out…spring;
Like money sown by a pageant king;
The free wood yields to the driven wedges;
With its white sap…edges;
And heart in the sunshine glistening。
Broadly the ice…clear azure floods down;
Where the great tree…tops are overthrown;
As on through the endless day we labour;
The sun for our nearest neighbour;
Up o'er the mountains lone。
And so intensely it doth illume;
That it shuts by times to gloom;
In the open spaces thrilling;
From the dead leaves distilling
A hot and harsh perfume。
Evening。
Give over! All the valleys in sight
Fill; fill with the rising tide of night;
While the sunset with gold…dust bridges
The black…ravined ridges;
Whose mighty muscles curve in its light。
In our weary climb; while night dyes deep;
Down the broken and stony steep;
How our jaded bodies are shaken
By each step in half…blindness taken
One's thoughts lie heaped like brutes asleep。
Open the door of the dismal hut;
Silence and darkness lone were shut
In it; as a tidal pool; until returning
Night drowns the land; no ember's burning;
One is too weary the food to cut。
Body and soul with every blow;
Wasted for ever; and who will know;
Where; past this mountained night of toiling;
Red life in its thousand veins is boiling;
Of chips scattered on the mountain's brow?
Home…woe
The wreckage of some name…forgotten barque;
Half…buried by the dolorous shore;
Whereto the living waters never more
Their urgent billows pour;
But the salt spray can reach and cark
So lies my spirit; lonely and forlorn;
On Being's strange and perilous strand。
And rusted sword and fleshless hand
Point from the smothering sand;
And anchor chainless and out…worn。
But o'er what Deep; unconquered and uncharted;
And steering by what vanished star;
And where my dim…imagined consorts are;
Or hidden harbour far;
From whence my sails; unblessed; departed;
Can memory; nor still intuition teach。
And so I watch with alien eyes
This World's remote and unremembered skies;
While around me weary rise
The babblings of a foreign speech。
A Ballad of the last King of Thule
There was a King of Thule
Whom a Witch…wife stole at birth;
In a country known but newly;
All under the dumb; huge Earth。
That King's in a Forest toiling;
And he never the green sward delves
But he sees all his green waves boiling
Over his sands and shelves;
In these sunsets vast and fiery;
In these dawns divine he sees
Hy…Brasil; Mannan and Eire;
And the Isle of Appletrees;
He watches; heart…still and breathless;
The clouds through the deep day trailing;
As the white…winged vessels gathered;
Into his harbours sailing;
Ranked Ibis and lazy Eagles
In the great blue flame may rise;
But ne'er Sea…mew or Solan beating
Up through their grey low skies;
When the storm…led fires are breaking;
Great waves of the molten night;
Deep in his eyes comes aching
The icy Boreal Light。
。 。 。 。 。
O; lost King; and O; people perished;
Your Thule has grown one grave!
Unvisited as uncherished;
Save by the wandering wave!
The billows burst in his doorways;
The spray swoops over his walls!
O; his banners that throb dishonoured
O'er arms that hide