Poems by George Meredith Volume I Part 16

V

Juggling's no sin, for we must have victual: Nature allows us to bait for the fool.

Holding one's own makes us juggle no little; But, to increase it, hard juggling's the rule.

You that are sneering at my profession, Haven't you juggled a vast amount?

There's the Prime Minister, in one Session, Juggles more games than my sins 'll count.

VI

I've murdered insects with mock thunder: Conscience, for that, in men don't quail.

I've made bread from the b.u.mp of wonder: That's my business, and there's my tale.

Fas.h.i.+on and rank all praised the professor: Ay! and I've had my smile from the Queen: Bravo, Jerry! she meant: G.o.d bless her!

Ain't this a sermon on that scene?

VII

I've studied men from my topsy-turvy Close, and, I reckon, rather true.

Some are fine fellows: some, right scurvy: Most, a dash between the two.

But it's a woman, old girl, that makes me Think more kindly of the race: And it's a woman, old girl, that shakes me When the Great Juggler I must face.

VIII

We two were married, due and legal: Honest we've lived since we've been one.

Lord! I could then jump like an eagle: You danced bright as a bit o' the sun.

Birds in a May-bush we were! right merry!

All night we kiss'd, we juggled all day.

Joy was the heart of Juggling Jerry!

Now from his old girl he's juggled away.

IX

It's past parsons to console us: No, nor no doctor fetch for me: I can die without my bolus; Two of a trade, la.s.s, never agree!

Parson and Doctor!--don't they love rarely, Fighting the devil in other men's fields!

Stand up yourself and match him fairly: Then see how the rascal yields!

X

I, la.s.s, have lived no gipsy, flaunting Finery while his poor helpmate grubs: Coin I've stored, and you won't be wanting: You shan't beg from the troughs and tubs.

n.o.bly you've stuck to me, though in his kitchen Many a Marquis would hail you Cook!

Palaces you could have ruled and grown rich in, But our old Jerry you never forsook.

XI

Hand up the chirper! ripe ale winks in it; Let's have comfort and be at peace.

Once a stout draught made me light as a linnet.

Cheer up! the Lord must have his lease.

May be--for none see in that black hollow - It's just a place where we're held in p.a.w.n, And, when the Great Juggler makes as to swallow, It's just the sword-trick--I ain't quite gone!

XII

Yonder came smells of the gorse, so nutty, Gold-like and warm: it's the prime of May.

Better than mortar, brick and putty, Is G.o.d's house on a blowing day.

Lean me more up the mound; now I feel it: All the old heath-smells! Ain't it strange?

There's the world laughing, as if to conceal it, But He's by us, juggling the change.

XIII

I mind it well, by the sea-beach lying, Once--it's long gone--when two gulls we beheld, Which, as the moon got up, were flying Down a big wave that sparked and swelled.

Crack, went a gun: one fell: the second Wheeled round him twice, and was off for new luck: There in the dark her white wing beckon'd:- Drop me a kiss--I'm the bird dead-struck!

THE CROWN OF LOVE

O might I load my arms with thee, Like that young lover of Romance Who loved and gained so gloriously The fair Princess of France!

Because he dared to love so high, He, bearing her dear weight, shall speed To where the mountain touched on sky: So the proud king decreed.

Unhalting he must bear her on, Nor pause a s.p.a.ce to gather breath, And on the height she will be won; And she was won in death!

Red the far summit flames with morn, While in the plain a glistening Court Surrounds the king who practised scorn Through such a mask of sport.

She leans into his arms; she lets Her lovely shape be clasped: he fares.

G.o.d speed him whole! The knights make bets: The ladies lift soft prayers.

O have you seen the deer at chase?

O have you seen the wounded kite?

So boundingly he runs the race, So wavering grows his flight.

- My lover! linger here, and slake Thy thirst, or me thou wilt not win.

- See'st thou the tumbled heavens? they break!

They beckon us up and in.

- Ah, hero-love! unloose thy hold: O drop me like a cursed thing.

- See'st thou the crowded swards of gold?

They wave to us Rose and Ring.

- O death-white mouth! O cast me down!

Thou diest? Then with thee I die.

- See'st thou the angels with their Crown?

We twain have reached the sky.

THE HEAD OF BRAN THE BLEST