Poems by George Meredith Volume Ii Part 26

The horn of their obstructive debt!

But quit the stage, that note applies For sermons cosmopolitan, Hernani. Have we filched our prize, Forgetting . . .? O the horn! the horn!

The horn of the Old Gentleman!

THE NUPTIALS OF ATTILA

I

Flat as to an eagle's eye, Earth hung under Attila.

Sign for carnage gave he none.

In the peace of his disdain, Sun and rain, and rain and sun, Cherished men to wax again, Crawl, and in their manner die.

On his people stood a frost.

Like the charger cut in stone, Rearing stiff, the warrior host, Which had life from him alone, Craved the trumpet's eager note, As the bridled earth the Spring.

Rusty was the trumpet's throat.

He let chief and prophet rave; Venturous earth around him string Threads of gra.s.s and slender rye, Wave them, and untrampled wave.

O for the time when G.o.d did cry, Eye and have, my Attila!

II

Scorn of conquest filled like sleep Him that drank of havoc deep When the Green Cat pawed the globe: When the hors.e.m.e.n from his bow Shot in sheaves and made the foe Crimson fringes of a robe, Trailed o'er towns and fields in woe; When they streaked the rivers red, When the saddle was the bed.

Attila, my Attila!

III

He breathed peace and pulled a flower.

Eye and have, my Attila!

This was the damsel Ildico, Rich in bloom until that hour: Shyer than the forest doe Twinkling slim through branches green.

Yet the shyest shall be seen.

Make the bed for Attila!

IV

Seen of Attila, desired, She was led to him straightway: Radiantly was she attired; Rifled lands were her array, Jewels bled from weeping crowns, Gold of woeful fields and towns.

She stood pallid in the light.

How she walked, how withered white, From the blessing to the board, She who would have proudly blushed, Women whispered, asking why, Hinting of a youth, and hushed.

Was it terror of her lord?

Was she childish? was she sly?

Was it the bright mantle's dye Drained her blood to hues of grief Like the ash that shoots the spark?

See the green tree all in leaf: See the green tree stripped of bark! - Make the bed for Attila!

V

Round the banquet-table's load Scores of iron hors.e.m.e.n rode; Chosen warriors, keen and hard; Grain of thres.h.i.+ng battle-dints; Attila's fierce body-guard, Smelling war like fire in flints.

Grant them peace be fugitive!

Iron-capped and iron-heeled, Each against his fellow's s.h.i.+eld Smote the spear-head, shouting, Live, Attila! my Attila!

Eagle, eagle of our breed, Eagle, beak the lamb, and feed!

Have her, and unleash us! live, Attila! my Attila!

VI

He was of the blood to s.h.i.+ne Bronze in joy, like skies that scorch.

Beaming with the goblet wine In the wavering of the torch, Looked he backward on his bride.

Eye and have, my Attila!

Fair in her wide robe was she: Where the robe and vest divide, Fair she seemed surpa.s.singly: Soft, yet vivid as the stream Danube rolls in the moonbeam Through rock-barriers: but she smiled Never, she sat cold as salt: Open-mouthed as a young child Wondering with a mind at fault.

Make the bed for Attila!

VII

Under the thin hoop of gold Whence in waves her hair outrolled, 'Twixt her brows the women saw Shadows of a vulture's claw Gript in flight: strange knots that sped Closing and dissolving aye: Such as wicked dreams betray When pale dawn creeps o'er the bed.

They might show the common pang Known to virgins, in whom dread Hunts their bliss like famished hounds; While the chiefs with roaring rounds Tossed her to her lord, and sang Praise of him whose hand was large, Cheers for beauty brought to yield, Chirrups of the trot afield, Hurrahs of the battle-charge.

VIII

Those rock-faces hung with weed Reddened: their great days of speed, Slaughter, triumph, flood and flame, Like a jealous frenzy wrought, Scoffed at them and did them shame, Quaffing idle, conquering nought.

O for the time when G.o.d decreed Earth the prey of Attila!

G.o.d called on thee in his wrath, Trample it to mire! 'Twas done.

Swift as Danube clove our path Down from East to Western sun.

Huns! behold your pasture, gaze, Take, our king said: heel to flank (Whisper it, the war-horse neighs!) Forth we drove, and blood we drank Fresh as dawn-dew: earth was ours: Men were flocks we lashed and spurned: Fast as windy flame devours, Flame along the wind, we burned.

Arrow javelin, spear, and sword!

Here the snows and there the plains; On! our signal: onward poured Torrents of the tightened reins, Foaming over vine and corn Hot against the city-wall.

Whisper it, you sound a horn To the grey beast in the stall!

Yea, he whinnies at a nod.

O for sound of the trumpet-notes!

O for the time when thunder-shod, He that scarce can munch his oats, Hung on the peaks, brooded aloof, Champed the grain of the wrath of G.o.d, Pressed a cloud on the cowering roof, Snorted out of the blackness fire!

Scarlet broke the sky, and down, Hammering West with print of his hoof, He burst out of the bosom of ire Sharp as eyelight under thy frown, Attila, my Attila!

IX

Ravaged cities rolling smoke Thick on cornfields dry and black, Wave his banners, bear his yoke.

Track the lightning, and you track Attila. They moan: 'tis he!

Bleed: 'tis he! Beneath his foot Leagues are deserts charred and mute; Where he pa.s.sed, there pa.s.sed a sea.

Attila, my Attila!

X

- Who breathed on the king cold breath?

Said a voice amid the host, He is Death that weds a ghost, Else a ghost that weds with Death?

Ildico's chill little hand Shuddering he beheld: austere Stared, as one who would command Sight of what has filled his ear: Plucked his thin beard, laughed disdain.

Feast, ye Huns! His arm be raised, Like the warrior, battle-dazed, Joining to the fight amain.

Make the bed for Attila!

XI

Silent Ildico stood up.

King and chief to pledge her well, Shocked sword sword and cup on cup, Clamouring like a brazen bell.