The Poems and Prose of Ernest Dowson, With a Memoir by Arthur Symons Part 7

Nay! She is gone, and all things fall apart; Or she is cold, and vainly have we prayed; And broken is the summer's splendid heart, And hope within a deep, dark grave is laid.

As man aspires and falls, yet a soul springs Out of his agony of flesh at last, So love that flesh enthralls, shall rise on wings Soul-centred, when the rule of flesh is past.

Then, most High Love, or wreathed with myrtle sprays, Or crownless and forlorn, nor less a star, Thee may I serve and follow, all my days, Whose thorns are sweet as never roses are!

CHANSON SANS PAROLES

In the deep violet air, Not a leaf is stirred; There is no sound heard, But afar, the rare Trilled voice of a bird.

Is the wood's dim heart, And the fragrant pine, Incense, and a shrine Of her coming? Apart, I wait for a sign.

What the sudden hush said, She will hear, and forsake, Swift, for my sake, Her green, gra.s.sy bed: She will hear and awake!

She will hearken and glide, From her place of deep rest, Dove-eyed, with the breast Of a dove, to my side: The pines bow their crest.

I wait for a sign: The leaves to be waved, The tall tree-tops laved In a flood of suns.h.i.+ne, This world to be saved!

_In the deep violet air, Not a leaf is stirred; There is no sound heard, But afar, the rare Trilled voice of a bird._

THE PIERROT OF THE MINUTE

_THE CHARACTERS_

A MOON MAIDEN PIERROT

_THE SCENE_

_A glade in the Parc due Pet.i.t Trianon. In the centre a Doric temple with steps coming down the stage. On the left a little Cupid on a pedestal.

Twilight._

[_Pierrot enters with his hands full of lilies. He is burdened with a little basket. He stands gazing at the Temple and the Statue._]

PIERROT My journey's end! This surely is the glade Which I was promised: I have well obeyed!

A clue of lilies was I bid to find, Where the green alleys most obscurely wind; Where tall oaks darkliest canopy o'erhead, And moss and violet make the softest bed; Where the path ends, and leagues behind me lie The gleaming courts and gardens of Versailles; The lilies streamed before me, green and white; I gathered, following; they led me right, To the bright temple and the sacred grove: This is, in truth, the very shrine of Love!

[_He gathers together his flowers and lays them at the foot of Cupid's statue; then he goes timidly up the first steps of the temple and stops._]

PIERROT It is so solitary, I grow afraid.

Is there no priest here, no devoted maid?

Is there no oracle, no voice to speak, Interpreting to me the word I seek?

[_A very gentle music of lutes floats out from the temple. Pierrot starts back; he shows extreme surprise; then he returns to the foreground, and crouches down in rapt attention until the music ceases. His face grows puzzled and petulant._]

PIERROT Too soon! too soon! in that enchanting strain, Days yet unlived, I almost lived again: It almost taught me that I most would know-- Why am I here, and why am I Pierrot?

[_Absently he picks up a lily which has fallen to the ground, and repeats:_]

PIERROT Why came I here, and why am I Pierrot?

That music and this silence both affright; Pierrot can never be a friend of night.

I never felt my solitude before-- Once safe at home, I will return no more.

Yet the commandment of the scroll was plain; While the light lingers let me read again.

[_He takes a scroll from his bosom and reads:_]

PIERROT "_He loves to-night who never loved before; Who ever loved, to-night shall love once more._"

_I_ never loved! I know not what love is.

I am so ignorant--but what is this?

[_Reads:_]

"_Who would adventure to encounter Love Must rest one night within this hallowed grove.

Cast down thy lilies, which have led thee on, Before the tender feet of Cupidon._"

Thus much is done, the night remains to me.

Well, Cupidon, be my security!

Here is more writing, but too faint to read.

[_He puzzles for a moment, then casts the scroll down._]

PIERROT Hence, vain old parchment. I have learnt thy rede!

[_He looks round uneasily, starts at his shadow; then discovers his basket with glee. He takes out a flask of wine, pours it into a gla.s.s, and drinks._]

PIERROT _Courage, mon Ami!_ I shall never miss Society with such a friend as this.

How merrily the rosy bubbles pa.s.s, Across the amber crystal of the gla.s.s.

I had forgotten you. Methinks this quest Can wake no sweeter echo in my breast.

[_Looks round at the statue, and starts._]

PIERROT Nay, little G.o.d! forgive. I did but jest.

[_He fills another gla.s.s, and pours it upon the statue._]

PIERROT This libation, Cupid, take, With the lilies at thy feet; Cherish Pierrot for their sake: Send him visions strange and sweet, While he slumbers at thy feet.

Only love kiss him awake!

_Only love kiss him awake_!

[_Slowly falls the darkness, soft music plays, while Pierrot gathers together fern and foliage into a rough couch at the foot of the steps which lead to the Temple d'Amour. Then he lies down upon it, having made his prayer. It is night._]

PIERROT [_Softly._]

Music, more music, far away and faint: It is an echo of mine heart's complaint.

Why should I be so musical and sad?

I wonder why I used to be so glad?

In single glee I chased blue b.u.t.terflies, Half b.u.t.terfly myself, but not so wise, For they were twain, and I was only one.

Ah me! how pitiful to be alone.

My brown birds told me much, but in mine ear They never whispered this--I learned it here: The soft wood sounds, the rustlings in the breeze, Are but the stealthy kisses of the trees.