THE DELUGE

AND OTHER POEMS

BY

JOHN PRESLAND

AUTHOR OF "MANIN AND THE DEFENCE OF VENICE"
"MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS," ETC.

LONDON
CHATTO & WINDUS
1911

All rights reserved

CONTENTS

The Deluge

Sonnets—
    To J. F. W.
    To Andrew Chatto
    November
    To a Robin in December
    A January Morning
    February
    To April—I
    To April—II
    To Daniel Manin

To the Leaders of both Parties
Consolation
Tapestry
Wisdom and Youth
A Villa on the Bay of Naples
A Song
The Ballad of a Sea-Nymph
Chrysanthemums
A Courtly Madrigal
In Arcadia
A Ballad of King Richard
In the Valley of the Shadow

THE DELUGE

"The Sons of God saw the daughters of men, that they were fair."—Genesis vi. 2.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

The Seeker after Truth
His Wife
His Mother
Chorus

SCENE I

The wife and the mother spinning

THE WIFE (sings)

Love, it is dark among your roses,
The face of the moon is turned away,
The nightingale is silent and lonely;
Lean from your window a little way!—

Lean but a little way towards me,
Out of the window where jasmines twine,
Open the lattice, softly, slowly,
Till the light of your eyes shall gladden mine.

Love, it is dark among your roses;
And how, since the nightingales are fled,
Can I tell your heart how my heart is lowly,
To touch the ground where your sandals tread?

This is your garden; these your flowers;
These stars have seen you; these dews have known;
And now your eyes and your smile you give me—
Give me your love, and be all mine own!

THE MOTHER

Sing that again, the music soothes my ear.

THE WIFE

My husband made it for me ere we wed,
And sang it in my garden; I arose
And leaned down to him, and my fingers gave
To all his kisses. Ah! those days were sweet.

THE MOTHER

Not sweet now?

THE WIFE

I am happy in his love
And thank God for it, nay, propitiate
With vows and offering; I fear a wrath
Called down on too great happiness; I fear—
I know not what—Oh, I possess a gift
So rare and precious, that, like men who go
Laden with rubies, I am grown suspect
Of all the earth and heaven, feel the stars
Peer covetously on me. Every hour
That he is from my side a cloud of woe
Settles upon me like a swarm of bees.
Ah, is it possible that we can sin
In happiness, against a jealous God?

THE MOTHER

Nay, nay, these foolish thoughts! your wits are strayed
With too much brooding: let me bind afresh
The knot of scarlet lilies in your hair;
They fade already, for the sun is high
Towards the noon: Ah, child, what waits for you
But love, and yet more love, and happiness,
And children of delight, and in old age
Respect of all the peoples, and at last
Death in his arms and burial in peace?
Still do you tremble, what is it you fear?

THE WIFE

Can you not feel a something in the air,
A warning, or a presence, or the weight
Of some unguessed-at horror, that, like dust
Impalpable and deadly, clings and kills?
There is some terror—'tis my heart that speaks
And warns me—ah! would God indeed, your son,
(My love and husband) had another father
Than that celestial being. This it is
That puts eternal sadness on his brow,
And shade within his eyes I cannot lift,
Even with kisses; 'tis the angel nature
That makes him sit spell-woven in a trance,
Chin in his hand, and eyes on vacancy,
And lips all bare of love, the while his soul
Struggles against the bonds of finity.

THE MOTHER

Ah, how you love him!

THE WIFE