The City of the Crimson Walls and other poems

Front matter

The City of the Crimson Walls AND OTHER POEMS The City of the Crimson Walls AND OTHER POEMS BY STEPHEN FOREMAN LONDON KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER & CO., Ltd. Paternoster House, Charing Cross Road 1S95 CONTENTS PAGE THE CITY OF THE CRIMSON WALLS ... ... 1 A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY 43 PISGAH ... ... 56 A VISION OF BLOOD ... ... 69 TWO GARDENS ... ... ... ... ... 82 LOVER AND FRIEND... ... ... ... ... 95 MAN AND THE WOMAN ... ... ... ... 116 THE SCULPTOR ... ... ... League upon league of sand, hot, burning sand, A sky of molten brass, a scorching wind, A desert limitless on either hand, Hell on before and trebly hell behind. In headlong haste, across the wilderness With swift unequal strides — his bloodshot eyes For ever fixed on the horizon, less In hope than fear — the malefactor flies. Between his black and swollen lips hangs out Bleeding and blistering 'neath the noonday sun His tongue.

Lips that were once in baby pout Held up for mother kisses ! Is there none To wipe the sweating agony away That trickles down his face with sorrow lined, Wounded and scarred through many an evil day, And leaves an escharotic stain behind , His feet are bare, and ever as he goes A blood trail marks the way, nor here alone, Adown his back a sluggish torrent flows, The scourge's harvest, blood, and flesh, and bone ; Nor is this all, his hands are bleeding too. The nails have torn the sinews, till they start B In palpitating knots, exposed to view, That bleed with each pulsation of his heart. Torn from the cross ere life had wholly gone, And bleeding, scourged through market-place and street, Then driven, with crushing blows of stick and stone, Into the waste on terror-winged feet. Is life worth living 1 No, yet still he flies From death, for who will dare to die alone, Unwept, unshrived, to face the mysteries That shroud the presence of The Great Unknown 1 'Tis past the noon, and now the sun goes down Behind a bank of copper-coloured cloud. 'Tis night, the stars upon the Wanderer frown, Or so it seems to him.

He calls aloud In agony of soul to God above, To slay and end this bloody travesty Of life ; but, though 'tis said that God is Love, God hears him not, God will not let him die. He flings himself upon the burning plain, And to his eyes the red-hot tears well up, He weeps in pity for himself, in vain He weeps with unavailing tears. His cup Is full of sorrows. O'er his tortured brain Despair has flung its mantle • and the past Impels him to his destiny amain. The present is too horrible to last. Th' approaching terrors on his vision loom ; God save him from the future ! Let him lie At least unconscious of his coming doom ! He prays for death, yet praying fears to die. At length, o'ercharged with thought, his reason yields, He joyful laughs, the wilderness is gone, And he is wandering through the smiling fields With one he loves, he is no more alone.

Part I

I The room was lofty, pendent lights, o'erhead, Threw a faint radiance on the girlish form Of her, who, by the fireside, held unread A book upon her knees. The rising storm ii Outside, disturbed her not ; the land of dreams, In which she journeyed, was the land of rest ; No storms were there, but peaceful, purling streams Sang heavenly melodies to charm the blessed. in Her form was youthful, but her stately grace Was womanly, and womanly her eyes That lent a sweet, grave sadness to her face, That told the story of self-sacrifice. Her face was pale, not an unhealthy hue, But warm, instinct with youthful life ; her lips Were ripe and red. She was perfection to The rosy nails upon her finger-tips. v This darling picture in my memory Holds the chief place ; the firelight's flickering fiare Glanced round her head, and, as it seemed to me, Glowed like a holy nimbus in her hair.

VI Thus did I gaze on her, with aching heart, That told me human happiness was vain ; I hardly knew my course. Should I depart ? Or should I try my fortune once again ? VII For, I had ridden through the stormy night In feverish haste, to tell her my decree, My stern, unchangeable resolve ; the sight Of her sweet beauty made the destiny vni That I had for myself — my last resource — Determined on, unbearable ; my life A desert, and my thoughts a curse, For thinking that she might have been^-my wife. » IX 'Twas strange, that I at midnight home should come. And, like a thief, go stealing softly through The empty hall — with sad foreboding dumb — In the faint hope that somebody I knew, x And loved so well, would hurry out to meet The master on his coming. Ah, the thought Was vain ! The mournful echo of my feet Came back to me, instead of hers I sought.

XI It was her father's home, and when he died, He left it to his brother, — he, to me, His son, bequeathed it • yet what right denied, My cousin would not take in charity. XII I had no right to hope for greeting, yet I thirsted for it. Was I not the cause Of her unhappiness ? Could she forget That I had ousted her ? It was the law's XIII Offence, not mine, that left her desolate, Without a home ; the place where she was born Was hers no more. I could have borne her hate, Though terrible ; I could have borne her scorn be XIV Of the usurper who had ta'en her place, But her meek gratitude I could not bear ; The yearning of her eyes, her patient face, Whene'er I saw it, drove me to despair. XV It was her rightful home, and I had thought, Now and again, she must have hated me, As the unconscious instrument that wrought Such havoc with her hopes.

Oh ! could there XVI Some other reason for the pensive shade That always hung upon her gentle brow, Some other, else than loss of home, that made Her sad 1 Alas ! I know that reason now. XVII I entered, and she rose with outstretched hand, And came to me across the shadowy room, Where I stood waiting, striving to command The beating of my heart. I read the doom XVIII Of all my fond desires, my hopes of love, In her meek eyes, as she saluted me With numbing calmness. Should I never move Her tender heart to feel some sympathy With my hot nature ? Was all passion dead Within that lovely form, or did it glow For some one else f I would not have it said That I constrained her love, who loved her so. xx If she had love to give, her own free will Should give it. When I looked into her face, I hungered for possession of her, still I would not take advantage of her place.

XXI I drew her unresisting to the door ; The moon was riding in a cloudless sky ; The storm had passed away, the moistened floor Of earth gave forth its perfume fragrantly. XXII We stood upon the old familiar spot, Where we in earliest childhood oft had played Together ; there the meek forget-me-not, With diffidence, its modest hue displayed. XXIII 'Twas an old-fashioned garden, old-world flowers Were planted there, and there in days long dead We had made merry through the sunny hours, Ere sorrow came and hope took wings and fled. I thought the mem'ry of the old, old days Might give me strength to speak, might give her grace To listen to me ; that the moon's soft rays Might lend some new expression to her face. xxv But it was not to be. 'Tis my belief She read my thoughts, and yet she gave no sign Of understanding, but I saw such grief In her dear eyes, as I thought only mine.

XXVI It was the time of parting. Who could say When we should meet again 1 For evermore The world would lie between us, till that day When we should meet upon the voiceless shore. XXVII There was no ecstasy of parting kiss, No loving lingering words, no bitter tears, To tell that hearts were breaking ; only this — A hopeless gazing through the coming years. XXVIII I turned and left her, cast no glance behind, Where she stood, silent, waiting ; for I knew That she was waiting, though I could not find The smallest reason for it. Headlong through The night I rode, the moon kept pace o'erhead With my wild journey. If one day she heard That in some far-off country I was dead, Could I believe her bosom would be stirred ? xxx I wondered would her eyes in pity fill With vain regret for me ; or would the thought That I was dead, her tender heart instil With charity for all the wrong I'd wrought.

Part II XXXI

The light is fading in an even grey That covers earth and sky ; the moaning sea Sobs out its sorrow to the dying day, That whispers back its plaintive misery. XXXII All Nature speaks of dying, and of death ; The autumn leaves are falling ; and the sound Of long, dead, waving grasses, like the breath Of phantoms, shivers through the burial-ground, For there I sit ; there is great solitude, The dwelling-place of death is all my own ; There is no living creature to intrude Upon my sorrow. I am left alone ; xxxiv Save, that beneath me in the loathsome clay Some one I love is buried out of sight ; Slain by my hand. Oh God ! blot out the day In which I, passion-blinded, took to flight xxxv From her who loved me. Over her there stands A marble cross, the symbol of her faith, Its two white arms seem like her angel hands Stretched out, to me, across the strait of death. xxxvi I left her in my pride ; I could not guess The passion hidden in her wondrous eyes ; I thought her cold, but how could she confess The love I took no care to recognize 1 XXXVII Through the fierce strife of war, the sulphurous breath Of blood-red battle, through the weltering sea Of crimson carnage, I have sought for death ; Where death was thickest, death was not for me.

XXXVIII Once with a little handful of my men I stormed a battery, where a hundred guns Belched forth their leaden torrent ; surely then I met with my desire ; but, when the sun's xxxix Dull ray broke through the reeking battle cloud, My men had perished, I stood scathless still, By shot or shell ; I called on God aloud To strike me dead, if man refused to kill. XL God heard me not. Throughout the whole campaign Men marvelled at my deeds • they little thought, When mad with blood, and heaped breast-high with slain, It was my own, not others' death I sought. XLI If I were dead, then might she happy be, The place she loved so well would be her own. Unless she loved me, what was life to me ] Death was the only way I could atone xlii For all her sorrow. Should I never die, Would death escape me, though I might aspire To sacrifice myself, for who was I To stand between her and her heart's desire I had no anger 'gainst her in my heart, Only deep sorrow, ne'er to be expressed ; I could not speak, our lives lay far apart, And by my act.

I did it for the best. XLIV And so I died, to her, and to the world ; The message of my death o'er ocean sped To where she dwelt. The battle-flag was furled ; The sword was laid to rest, for, I was dead. XLV In a religious life I sought relief From the world's troubles • there the dreary day^ Unmoved by joy, uninfluenced by grief, Passed with a dead monotony away. XLV I I lay one evening in my narrow cell, My living tomb. A deathly silence reigned ; Save the faint tinkle of the vesper bell, There was no sound. The desolation pained XLVII My spirit with excess of agony, My hands were red with blood of countless men Slain without pity, yet I could not die • The grave would never open for me. Then O'er my dulled faculties a feeling swept Of infinite repose ; the convent seemed To slip away in distance, as I slept ; And in its place a vision, as I dreamed, XLIX Rose on my sight.

It was a garden fair, I knew it well, the old familiar place Was as I left it, for she too was there. The sunlight shining on her wondrous face L Dazzled my sight ; I stepped towards her side ; When suddenly she vanished, she was gone ! And at my feet a chasm, deep and wide, And dark, had opened — I was left alone. LI Then, with a mighty shout of fear I woke, Leaped from my pallet, sped through echoing hall And ringing corridor ; the silence broke With my wild clamour. Answering to my call, LII The Brothers questioned me, but all in vain, For like a madman through their midst I fled, Back to the world, to life and hope again, Back to the woman who believed me dead. And thus I found her. When the message came, They told me that she drooped, and pined away ; In her last hour, my undeserving name Was on her dying lips.

She bade them pray LIV That, if I loved her, I would wait, and meet Her, entering on the journey up to God, And so sustain her, lest her faltering feet Should fail her, on the unaccustomed road. LV Oh ! God immortal ! Is there no recall From the dread land of death, but when we pass Beyond its gates, do they behind us fall, And leave no passage for return 1 Alas LVI That our own sin should be itself the cause Of death in us ! Yet it must ever be, Nature's supreme, inexorable laws Brook no denial of authority. LVII I would not have her back • my eyes were blind To all her grace of nature here below, Now Heaven receives this best of womankind, And God appreciates ; — 'tis better so. The love that guides the stars upon their flight, That stoops to shape our little destinies, That ever lives, has dawned upon her sight In the bewildering glory of God's eyes.

LIX In this old churchyard, where they made her grave, My heart is buried • but the time will come When God shall take again the life He gave, And I shall join my dear one in the tomb. LX This is the end of life. And, when I die, What better could there be, than buried deep In the warm earth, that wraps her round, to lie Beside her in God's garden — fast asleep ?

PART I

I The evening sky was rosy red With the warm light of setting sun ; The autumn day was nearly done, The sad farewells had all been said. a We stood where shore and ocean meet ; The shining sea, the yellow strand That stretched far up towards the land ; The wavelets rippled at our feet. in Far, far away, towards the west, Where the great orb of heaven dies, We gazed, with anxious, yearning eyes, Dim with a sorrow half confessed. rv There on the bosom of the sea A bark was riding with the gale ; The sunlight on its less'ning sail Bade sad farewell to her and me. v My brother and her love was there, An hour ago he left his home To seek a land beyond the foam, To breathe a freer, kindlier air. VI He could not brook the petty strife For fortune, in his native land, There were no means at his command To make a living for his wife.

VII The restless spirit of the time, That seized upon his fallow mind, Unsettled him j he went to find His level in a foreign clime. VIII We took him with us to the ship, I for my mother's mem'ry's sake ; She for the love she had, to take His last embraces, lip to lip. old, IX She, weeping, clung about his neck, He bore her on his kindly breast, Soothed her with sympathetic jest. We mounted with him to the deck. x My brother, though of tender heart, Was fierce of aspect ; at his glance The red-capped sailors looked askance To where with us he stood apart. XI My brother was no common man, Cast in no ordinary mould • When nature found the world grown She built him on a grander plan, XII That generations yet unborn Might know her glory was not dead, When he reared up his lofty head, And trod the weaklings down in scorn.

XIII And nature had endowed him more With intellect, than common folk ; Men listened when my brother spoke, And marvelled at his wealth of lore. n xrv We loved him for his honest heart, She, with a woman's tender joy, I, with the homage of a boy, Of my religion 'twas a part. xv A brother's love, that never dies, Forced me to manly tears. Nor less With him, the dew of tenderness Was shining in his fearless eyes. XVI But all his words were for the maid Who stood a-weeping at his side ; She looked on him with mournful pride, Through tears whose flow would not be stayed. XVII He bade her live a hopeful life, And keep his mem'ry ever sweet, Till in the future they should meet, And he could take her for his wife. XVIII And then my brother kissed us both, And made me swear to be a friend To her he loved ; and I to tend A charge so fair, was nothing loath.

And so we said our last farewell ; And when we stepped upon the strand, The ship was sailing from the land. When to return ? Ah, who could tell ! xx The air was chilling, one could trace The first faint breath of winter cold ; The sun, a disc of molten gold, Sank in the sea's refulgent face. XXI The dusk was gathering thick ; the bark, That bore our loved one out of sight, Was hidden in the coming night ; What use for gazing through the dark 1 XXII I took her hand and led her home ; The little farm was nigh the shore, So nigh, that oft against the door The storm drove up the yellow foam. XXIII The firelight in the little place Cast flick' ring shadows round about, For us — our light of life was out, We could not see his cheery face. The place where he was wont to be Was empty, I could scarcely bear The sense of desolation there ; And she was weeping silently. xxv We were alone, I must confess I loved this maid who was his love, But secretly ; yet what would prove The issue of our loneliness ?

PART II

i The spring is here, 'tis Easter Day, Five Christmas Days have come and gone Since she and I were left alone, When our belov'd one sailed away. ii Our love is tender as of yore, Our recollections just as sweet, And as in days of old our feet Go wandering up and down the shore. As Mary, weeping, sought her Son And found Him not within the grave, So do we scan the empty wave For token of our absent one. IV This is no peaceful Eastertide, The wind is raving through the land ; The billows thunder on the strand ; The foam is flying far and wide. v The surf is rattling on the shore, That shrieks against the in-drawn sea, Now striving for the mastery, Now smothered in the surge's roar. VI Low-hanging clouds of lurid hue, Portentous of impending doom, Extend a canopy of gloom, The vivid lightning flashes through.

VII The smoke of spray and sand and rain Obscures the ocean from our gaze, Save when the lightning's awful blaze Sunders the firmament in twain. The crackle of the thunder peal Rives the thick air with hideous voice, It dominates the tempest's noise, And makes the earth's foundations reel. IX We kneel amid the water's roar, Bewildered in the furious gale ; There, through the storm, a phantom sail Is driving madly on the shore. x She staggers through the seething wave, Now 'neath the billows lost to sight, Now visible in blinding light. O Jesu ! in Thy mercy save ! XI No aid is nigh ; for what are we To help them in their direful strait 1 But Thou canst mitigate their fate, For Thou, 0 Lord, art o'er the sea. XII The weak, unthinking human mind Can see but uselessness in death, 'Tis Thine to take, Who gavest breath, Yet let them now salvation find.

For clinging with despairing hands, Scarce recognized amid the storm, Yet, to our love, a well-known form, Upon the deck my brother stands. XIV There in the surf, to God above, Unconscious of the storm, we kneel, Hand locked in hand in mute appeal, To save this darling of our love. xv God hears us : in the lightning's flash We see the vessel lifted high, It looms a moment 'gainst the sky, Then sinks again with awful crash. XVI The ship has struck, and o'er her deck The billows leap triumphantly ; And now upon the tossing sea There floats the remnant of a wreck. XVII But he is fighting with the foam, And struggling manfully to land, And now we grip him by the hand ; Such is my brother's coming home. She kneels beside him, and her tears, Forced back before with bitter pain, Now fall upon his face like rain.

The longing of her heart, for years, XIX In dumb submission to her grief, Pent up within her aching breast, Now sobs its weariness to rest Upon his heart, and finds relief. xx Exhausted, there, he lies awhile, Unconscious on the storm-swept beach, Until at length our voices reach His deaden'd senses ; then a smile, XXI Manly and sweet as long ago, Dawns on his face, returning strength Sets his pulse throbbing, and at length He sees her face ; 'tis all aglow XXII With a wild rapture ; she is free To vent the passion of her soul Upon her love, without control • And neither has a word for me. A desolation smote my heart With numbing pain, for all those years I'd soothed her sorrows, quelled her fears, That he might set us far apart. XXIV God knows my love was ever true, No shameful thought e'er sullied it.

Beloved, am I quite unfit To claim a little love from you 1 xxv I ask not much, but grant me this, Some little of the love you bear My brother • you are his, yet spare, In chastity, a sister's kiss !

Part III

i Friend of our life, our soul's desire, Companion of our happiest day, Why have you cast our love away ? Why flung our longing in the mire Our love was all we had to give, We gave it, was it given in vain ? Return to the old days again ! And let your better nature live ! in Our truest, trustiest one on earth, Have you forgot the tears we shed Together o'er our holy dead ? Forgotten her who gave us birth 1 IV Forgotten your betrothed, who Now weeps for you in misery With breaking heart ? Forgotten me, Your brother, who would die for you 1 v Forgotten him, whose manful soul Shed on our path in life, a Hght To guide us upward to the right ? He lies beneath the surges' roll • VI He died in fight for victory, His sturdy heart refused to bend Unworthily ; and such an end You too can make, for, you can die.

Yes, death were better than disgrace, Self -execution better than To live a weak, unmanly man, Ashamed to meet one face to face. VIII Oh brother ! brother ! resolute And firm of purpose when you left, Returned, of everything bereft, A selfish, self-degraded brute ! IX She came to me at dead of night, My brother had not yet returned, A candle in the window burned To guide him with its friendly light. x I think that she had prayed to feel Less love for him who broke her heart ; But from him she could not depart, For loving, she was true as steel. XI He staggered to the cottage door, A belt he brought from o'er the sea Was in his hand ; he glanced at me, Then flung it on the sanded floor. :» XII He reared aloft his massive frame, A devilish light was in his eyes, He cursed us with his blasphemies, He called her an unworthy name.

XIII " There's money, money there ! " he cried, " Gold ! yellow gold for jealousy. I brought it with me o'er the sea To be a dowry for my bride. XIV " 'Tis hers, she shall not have my name, There's compensation, 'tis as well, But, may it drag her down to hell ! And steep her to the lips in shame." xv She picked it up and gave it him, With such a sorrow in her look, That e'en his coarser nature shook With pity, and his eyes grew dim. XVI Her woman's nature all confessed, She knelt before him in the dust ; I thought such adoration must Revive affection in his breast. But no, he seemed his soul to brace, And all his softer feelings fled : He swung the belt above his head And smote her with it in the face. XVIII She fell, a-weeping bitterly ; We stood while one might count a score, She lay between us on the floor : And then, the devil entered me.

XIX Our father's sword, to keep awake The recollection of the dead, Above the fireplace hung o'erhead ; We kept it bright for mem'ry's sake. xx I tore the sabre from the wall, And with a deadly thrust and true I pierced his bosom through and through : He fell— Oh God ! to see him fall ! XXI I know not how the moments fled, 'Twas morning light when I awoke To all the horror of the stroke, That left my brother lying dead. Beside his bloody corpse she stood ; The blood, that trickled from the wound, Had dyed the sand upon the ground, Her lips were crimson with his blood. XXIII Oh, Virgin Mother of our Lord ! Pure, undefiled, immaculate ! Pray for this victim of my hate, And let me only be abhorr'd. xxiv My soul is worthless, let it lie For all eternity in night ! But give him cognizance of light, And let him not for ever die ! xxv Oh, that 'twere possible to keep This dread remembrance in the tomb, And hide it in forgotten gloom ! The grave is shallow ! Hell is deep !

Part IV

i The night is fair, this summer night ! The moon upon the sleeping brine Shines tranquilly ; but soon 'twill shine Upon a hell-begotten sight. Far out to sea a silver road Leads us in dreams, away from earth, To where the universe had birth ; It seems the pathway up to God. in God omnipresent, yet unseen, Creator and Destroyer, when His hand is heavy on us, then We wish that God had never been. IV Yet, without God to kindle light Within our breasts of coming day, How could we blindly grope our way Through the world's labyrinth of night ? v The day will dawn, and we shall see, Oh God ! that sorrow has an end, That even suffering is a friend That leads us up to light and Thee ! VI The rippling waves with ceaseless drone Run slowly up the shining sand, That stretches out on either hand Far into darkness.

All alone Upon the beach a maiden strays, With pensive measure, to and fro ; Her gait, indicative of woe, Her agony of soul betrays. VIII She weeps not, but her tearless eyes A sadder tale than tears relate, Love warring with undying hate, And hate with love that never dies. IX Hard by the shore a little boat Swings at her anchor on the tide, On the expanse of ocean wide No other vessel is afloat. x The maiden starts, she hears the tread Of one approaching through the night ; The moon illumines, with its light, The living bearing forth the dead. XI The victim, by the murderer borne, Hangs with his face towards the sky, Serene in deathly majesty, Terrific in its marble scorn. He does not fear, for he has passed Death's dreaded river, from whose brink With frighted hearts we vainly shrink, For we must fathom it at last.

XIII And neither does the other fear, With steadfast face and sturdy stride He bears his burden to the tide, Where floats in solitude, the bier. XIV And there he lays his awful load With sad solicitude and slow. He would not let his brother go Alone before the bar of God. xv And now he pauses, where he stands, Between the living and the dead, She calls him, but his hands are red With blood — he dare not take her hands. xn A look instinct with agony, With dumb, despairing anguish, creeps Over his face ; aboard he leaps, And pulls with all his might to sea. I Oh moon, most pure and holy, fling A curtain o'er thy tranquil light ! Let night, deep, black, abhorrent night, Sole witness be of such a thing. XVIII Ye stars that spangle yonder sky ! Ye myriad lustrous eyes, be blind To-night, some other object find For spectacle, than tragedy.