LORD DE TABLEY. 1835-1895

AT THE COUNCIL

I stood to-day in that great square of fountains,
And heard the cannon of St. Angelo,

In many echoes towards the Alban mountains
Boom over Tiber's flow.

I saw the nations throng thy burnished spaces,
Cathedral of the Universe and Rome;
One purpose held those earnest upturned faces
Under the golden dome.

Tumult of light rolled on that human ocean;
Climax of sound replied in organ-storms,
And shook those altar Titans into motion
Bernini's windy forms.

They seemed to toss their giant arms appealing

Where Angelo with mighty hand has striven To paint his angels on an earthly ceiling, Grander than those of heaven.

Mid-air among the columns seemed to hover
Incense in clouds above the living tide.

Whence are these come who tread thy courts, Jehovah,
In raiment deep and dyed?

We are gathered thine elect among all races;
As at God's birth the Magian kings, afar

Thy whisper found us in our desert places,
Where we beheld thy star.

Ninth Piety of Rome, with whom the Keys are,
Regent to hold God's house, to feed His flock
Where Cæsar ruled; and thou, supplanting Cæsar,
Art firm on Peter's rock.

Nicæa's thunders yet are fresh as morning,

Beams in whose light the Church has gone and goes; To-day Nicæa peals in Rome her warning,

Pontiff, to curse thy foes.

We come, Armenia, Gaul, Missouri, Britain;
The chosen of the chosen priests are there:
To all men hath gone out his mandate written
Who fills St. Peter's chair.

Grey heads have waves Atlantic wafted scathless,
Weak feet have toiled o'er Libyan hills in fear;
Old Bishops from the regions of the faithless
Have crept on crutches here.

To far Canadian meres of ice-bound silence,
To cities lost in continents of sand,
To shoaling belts around Pacific islands,
The Pontiff raised his hand.

Then with one mind they came, the Bishop leaders, The outpost Captains of the Church at fight, From uplands clothed with Lebanonian cedars, From realms of Arctic night.

Lo! we are ready at thy summons, father;

Loose and we loosen, bind and we shall bind :
The conclave princes at thy blast shall gather,
As red leaves after wind.

Thunder the doctrine of this last evangel;

Clear as the note of doom its accents sound!
While men regard thine aspect as an angel
In the sun's orb and crowned!

At thy reproof let nations quail in terror,
And tremble at the pealing of thy word;

For God hath made thy mouth His own, and error
In thy voice is not heard.

Let all be doomed on whom thy curses thunder;
Let none be righteous whom thou dost withstand;
The priesthood of a word, we kneel in wonder,
And kiss thy sacred hand.

Hear, shade of Calvin, ghost of Luther, hearken !
Ye renegades of Northern yesterday;
Infidel bones, which years of silence darken,
Turn and salute one ray!

Leave vain philosophies, old dreamer Teuton,
Great drowsy fly in webs of logic weak;
We silenced Galileo, menaced Newton,
And Darwin shall not speak.

Behold a sign, ye sceptic sons of evil!

The dogma; raising which, as Michael brave, Our Pope confront their scientific devil

Over each unclosed grave;

Till Death and Doubt be thy tame sheep, O pastor,

Pontiff of souls and Vicar of God's choice

Infallible, in whom the spirit-master

Hath breathed his spirit voice.

"Explain our faith! all faithful hear thy mandate ;
Emperors watch in dread our world debate ;
Thy fear is on all peoples!" (but the bandit
Who plunders at thy gate).

NUPTIAL SONG

Sigh, heart, and break not; rest, lark, and wake not!
Day I hear coming to draw my love away,

As mere-waves whisper and clouds grow crisper,
Ah, like a rose he will waken up with day.

In moonlight lonely he is my love only,

I share with none when Luna rides in grey. As dawn-beams quicken, my rivals thicken The light and deed and turmoil of the day.

To watch my sleeper to me is sweeter

Than any waking words my love can say ; In dream he finds me and closer winds me! Let him rest by me a little more and stay.

Ah, mine eyes, close not; and though he knows not,
My lips, on his be tender while you may;
Ere leaves are shaken, and ring-doves waken,
And infant buds begin to scent new day.

Fair darkness measure thine hours, as treasure
Shed each one slowly from thine urn, I pray ;
Hoard in and cover each from my lover;
I cannot lose him yet; dear night, delay.

Each moment dearer, true-love lie nearer;

My hair shall blind thee lest thou see the ray; My locks encumber thine ears in slumber, Lest any bird dare give thee note of day.

He rests so calmly; we lie so warmly;
Hand within hand, as children after play;
In shafted amber on roof and chamber
Dawn enters; my love wakens; here is day.

A HYMN TO APHRODITE

Uranian Aphrodite, fair

From ripples of the ocean spray : Sweet as the sea-blooms in thy hair, Rosed with the blush of early day, O hear us from thy temple steep, Where Eryx crowns the Dorian deep.

Unfold the rapture of thy face,

No more thy lustrous eyes conceal; But from the rivers of thy grace

The rich abundant joys reveal. Give us the treasures of thy rest; Take us as children to thy breast.

Desired of all the ages long,

As Morning young, as old as Fate; The kneeling world with choral song

Has crowded round thy altar gate. Thine are the seasons past and dumb, And thine the unborn years to come.