PART IV
The ever-changing Moon had traced Twelve times her monthly round, When through the unfrequented Waste Was heard a startling sound; A shout thrice sent from one who chased 5 At speed a wounded deer, Bounding through branches interlaced, And where the wood was clear.
The fainting creature took the marsh, And toward the Island fled, 10 While plovers screamed with tumult harsh Above his antlered head; This, Ina saw; and, pale with fear, Shrunk to her citadel; The desperate deer rushed on, and near 15 The tangled covert fell.
Across the marsh, the game in view, The Hunter followed fast, Nor paused, till o'er the stag he blew A death-proclaiming blast; 20 Then, resting on her upright mind, Came forth the Maid--"In me Behold," she said, "a stricken Hind Pursued by destiny!
"From your deportment, Sir! I deem 25 That you have worn a sword, And will not hold in light esteem A suffering woman's word; There is my covert, there perchance I might have lain concealed, 30 My fortunes hid, my countenance Not even to you revealed.
"Tears might be shed, and I might pray, Crouching and terrified, That what has been unveiled to-day, 35 You would in mystery hide; But I will not defile with dust The knee that bends to adore The God in heaven;--attend, be just; This ask I, and no more! 40
"I speak not of the winter's cold, For summer's heat exchanged, While I have lodged in this rough hold, From social life estranged; Nor yet of trouble and alarms: 45 High Heaven is my defence; And every season has soft arms For injured Innocence.
"From Moscow to the Wilderness It was my choice to come, 50 Lest virtue should be harbourless, And honour want a home; And happy were I, if the Czar Retain his lawless will, To end life here like this poor deer, 55 Or a lamb on a green hill."
"Are you the Maid," the Stranger cried, "From Gallic parents sprung, Whose vanishing was rumoured wide, Sad theme for every tongue; 60 Who foiled an Emperor's eager quest? You, Lady, forced to wear These rude habiliments, and rest Your head in this dark lair!"
But wonder, pity, soon were quelled; 65 And in her face and mien The soul's pure brightness he beheld Without a veil between: He loved, he hoped,--a holy flame Kindled 'mid rapturous tears; 70 The passion of a moment came As on the wings of years.
"Such bounty is no gift of chance," Exclaimed he; "righteous Heaven, Preparing your deliverance, 75 To me the charge hath given. The Czar full oft in words and deeds Is stormy and self-willed; But, when the Lady Catherine pleads, His violence is stilled. 80
"Leave open to my wish the course, And I to her will go; From that humane and heavenly source, Good, only good, can flow." Faint sanction given, the Cavalier 85 Was eager to depart, Though question followed question, dear To the Maiden's filial heart.[663]
Light was his step,--his hopes, more light, Kept pace with his desires; 90 And the fifth[664] morning gave him sight Of Moscow's glittering spires. He sued:--heart-smitten by the wrong, To the lorn Fugitive The Emperor sent a pledge as strong 95 As sovereign power could give.
O more than mighty change! If e'er Amazement rose to pain, And joy's excess[665] produced a fear Of something void and vain; 100 'Twas when the Parents, who had mourned So long the lost as dead, Beheld their only Child returned, The household floor to tread.
Soon gratitude gave way to love 105 Within the Maiden's breast: Delivered and Deliverer move In bridal garments drest; Meek Catherine had her own reward; The Czar bestowed a dower; 110 And universal Moscow shared The triumph of that hour.
Flowers strewed the ground; the nuptial feast Was held with costly state; And there, 'mid many a noble guest, 115 The Foster-parents sate; Encouraged by the imperial eye, They shrank not into shade; Great was their bliss, the honour high To them and nature paid! 120
FOOTNOTES:
[650] Peter Henry Bruce, having given in his entertaining Memoirs the substance of this Tale,[666] affirms that, besides the concurring reports of others, he had the story from the lady's own mouth.
The Lady Catherine, mentioned towards the close, is[667] the famous Catherine, then bearing that name as the acknowledged Wife of Peter the Great.--W. W. 1835.
The title of this poem in the MS. copy by Mrs. Wordsworth is--
INA, OR, THE LODGE IN THE FOREST, A Russian Tale.
ED.
[651] Compare S. T. Coleridge's verses, _To a Lady_--
'Tis not the lily-brow I prize, Nor roseate cheeks, nor sunny eyes, Enough of lilies and of roses! A thousand-fold more dear to me The gentle look that Love discloses,-- The look that Love alone can see!
And Keats' lines beginning--
Woman! when I behold thee flippant, vain.
Also Wordsworth's _Jewish Family_, II. 25-28.--ED.
[652] 1835.
Yea, to the stars themselves, if born C.
[653] 1835.
... by gold unbarred,
MS. copy by Mrs. Wordsworth.
[654] 1837.
She hung upon ... 1835.
[655] 1837.
She led her Lady ... 1835.
[656] 1835.
And I must hide me from his wrath.
MS.
[657] 1850.
That here ... 1835.
[658] 1835.
And smiles, the sunshine of distress, That hide-yet more betray.
MS.
[659] 1835.
... serene; Exalting lowly grace, A Faith which does ...
MS.
[660] In the edition of 1835 the two preceding lines were placed within quotation marks, and the following added "From Golding's Translation of Ovid's _Metamorphoses_. See also his Dedicatory Epistle prefixed to the same work."-ED.
[661] "Not a Russian house, Bruce tells us, was, at his time, without a picture of the Virgin." (MS. note to a copy of this poem, in Mrs. Wordsworth's handwriting.)--ED.
[662] The Royal Palace at Moscow.--ED.
[663] 1835.
... the Cavalier Recounted all he knew, The sufferer's filial heart to cheer; Then hastily withdrew.
MS.
[664] 1837.
... third ... 1835.
[665] 1837.
And over-joy ... 1835.
[666] 1845.
of the following Tale 1835.
[667] 1837.
was 1835.
THE EGYPTIAN MAID
OR, THE ROMANCE OF THE WATER LILY
Composed 1830.--Published 1835
For the names and persons in the following poem, see the "History of the renowned Prince Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table"; for the rest the Author is answerable; only it may be proper to add, that the Lotus, with the bust of the Goddess appearing to rise out of the full-blown flower, was suggested by the beautiful work of ancient art, once included among the Townley Marbles, and now in the British Museum.--W. W. 1835.
[In addition to the short notice prefixed to this poem, it may be worth while here to say, that it rose out of a few words casually used in conversation by my nephew, Henry Hutchinson. He was describing with great spirit the appearance and movement of a vessel which he seemed to admire more than any other he had ever seen, and said her name was the Water Lily. This plant has been my delight from my boyhood, as I have seen it floating on the lake; and that conversation put me upon constructing and composing the poem. Had I not heard those words, it would never have been written. The form of the stanza is new, and is nothing but a repetition of the first five lines as they were thrown off, and is not perhaps well suited to narrative, and certainly would not have been trusted to had I thought at the beginning that the poem would have gone to such a length.--I. F.]
In the editions of 1835 and 1837 this poem was assigned a place of its own. In 1845 it was placed among the "Memorials of a Tour in Italy, 1837."--ED.
While Merlin paced the Cornish sands, Forth-looking toward the rocks of Scilly, The pleased Enchanter was aware Of a bright Ship that seemed to hang in air, Yet was she work of mortal hands, 5 And took from men her name--THE WATER LILY.
Soft was the wind, that landward blew; And, as the Moon, o'er some dark hill ascendant, Grows from a little edge of light To a full orb, this Pinnace bright 10 Became, as nearer to the coast she drew, More glorious, with spread sail and streaming pendant.
Upon this wingèd Shape so fair Sage Merlin gazed with admiration: Her lineaments, thought he, surpass 15 Aught that was ever shown in magic glass; Was ever built with patient care; Or, at a touch, produced by happiest transformation.[668]
Now, though a Mechanist, whose skill Shames the degenerate grasp of modern science, 20 Grave Merlin (and belike the more For practising occult and perilous lore) Was subject to a freakish will That sapped good thoughts, or scared them with defiance.
Provoked to envious spleen, he cast 25 An altered look upon the advancing Stranger Whom he had hailed with joy, and cried, "My Art shall help to tame her pride--" Anon the breeze became a blast, And the waves rose, and sky portended danger. 30
With thrilling word, and potent sign Traced on the beach, his work the Sorcerer urges; The clouds in blacker clouds are lost, Like spiteful Fiends that vanish, crossed By Fiends of aspect more malign; 35 And the winds roused the Deep with fiercer scourges.
But worthy of the name she bore Was this Sea-flower, this buoyant Galley: Supreme in loveliness and grace Of motion, whether in the embrace 40 Of trusty anchorage, or scudding o'er The main flood roughened into hill and valley.
Behold, how wantonly she laves Her sides, the Wizard's craft confounding; Like something out of Ocean sprung 45 To be for ever fresh and young, Breasts the sea-flashes, and huge waves Top-gallant high, rebounding and rebounding!
But Ocean under magic heaves, And cannot spare the Thing he cherished: 50 Ah! what avails that she was fair, Luminous, blithe, and debonair? The storm has stripped her of her leaves; The Lily floats no longer!--She hath perished.
Grieve for her,--she deserves no less; 55 So like, yet so unlike, a living Creature! No heart had she, no busy brain; Though loved, she could not love again; Though pitied, _feel_ her own distress; Nor aught that troubles us, the fools of Nature. 60
Yet is there cause for gushing tears; So richly was this Galley laden, A fairer than herself she bore, And, in her struggles, cast ashore; A lovely One, who nothing hears 65 Of wind or wave--a meek and guileless Maiden.
Into a cave had Merlin fled From mischief, caused by spells himself had muttered; And while, repentant all too late, In moody posture there he sate, 70 He heard a voice, and saw, with half-raised head, A Visitant by whom these words were uttered;
"On Christian service this frail Bark Sailed" (hear me, Merlin!) "under high protection, Though on her prow a sign of heathen power 75 Was carved--a Goddess with a Lily flower, The old Egyptian's emblematic mark Of joy immortal and of pure affection.
"Her course was for the British strand; Her freight, it was a Damsel peerless; 80 God reigns above, and Spirits strong May gather to avenge this wrong Done to the Princess, and her Land Which she in duty left, sad but not cheerless.[669]
"And to Caerleon's loftiest tower 85 Soon will the Knights of Arthur's Table A cry of lamentation send; And all will weep who there attend, To grace that Stranger's bridal hour, For whom the sea was made unnavigable. 90
"Shame! should a Child of royal line Die through the blindness of thy malice?" Thus to the Necromancer spake Nina, the Lady of the Lake, A gentle Sorceress, and benign, 95 Who ne'er embittered any good man's chalice.
"What boots," continued she, "to mourn? To expiate thy sin endeavour: From the bleak isle where she is laid, Fetched by our art, the Egyptian Maid 100 May yet to Arthur's court be borne Cold as she is, ere life be fled for ever.
"My pearly Boat, a shining Light, That brought me down that sunless river, Will bear me on from wave to wave, 105 And back with her to this sea-cave;-- Then Merlin! for a rapid flight Through air, to thee my Charge will I deliver.
"The very swiftest of thy cars Must, when my part is done, be ready; 110 Meanwhile, for further guidance, look Into thy own prophetic book; And, if that fail, consult the Stars To learn thy course; farewell! be prompt and steady."
This scarcely spoken, she again 115 Was seated in her gleaming shallop, That, o'er the yet-distempered Deep, Pursued its way with bird-like sweep, Or like a steed, without a rein, Urged o'er the wilderness in sportive gallop. 120
Soon did the gentle Nina reach That Isle without a house or haven; Landing, she found not what she sought, Nor saw of wreck or ruin aught But a carved Lotus cast upon the beach[670] 125 By the fierce waves, a flower in marble graven.
Sad relique, but how fair the while! For gently each from each retreating With backward curve, the leaves revealed The bosom half, and half concealed, 130 Of a Divinity, that seemed to smile On Nina, as she passed, with hopeful greeting.
No quest was hers of vague desire, Of tortured hope and purpose shaken; Following the margin of a bay, 135 She spied the lonely Cast-away, Unmarred, unstripped of her attire, But with closed eyes,--of breath and bloom forsaken.
Then Nina, stooping down, embraced, With tenderness and mild emotion, 140 The Damsel, in that trance embound; And, while she raised her from the ground, And in the pearly shallop placed, Sleep fell upon the air, and stilled the ocean.
The turmoil hushed, celestial springs 145 Of music opened, and there came a blending Of fragrance, underived from earth, With gleams that owed not to the sun their birth, And that soft rustling of invisible wings[671] Which Angels make, on works of love descending. 150
And Nina heard a sweeter voice Than if the Goddess of the flower had spoken: "Thou hast achieved, fair Dame! what none Less pure in spirit could have done; Go, in thy enterprise rejoice! 155 Air, earth, sea, sky, and heaven, success betoken."
So cheered, she left that Island bleak, A bare rock of the Scilly cluster, And, as they traversed the smooth brine, The self-illumined Brigantine 160 Shed, on the Slumberer's cold wan cheek And pallid brow, a melancholy lustre.
Fleet was their course, and when they came To the dim cavern, whence the river Issued into the salt-sea flood, 165 Merlin, as fixed in thought he stood, Was thus accosted by the Dame; "Behold to thee my Charge I now deliver!
But where attends thy chariot--where?"-- Quoth Merlin, "Even as I was bidden, 170 So have I done; as trusty as thy barge My vehicle shall prove--O precious Charge! If this be sleep, how soft! if death, how fair! Much have my books disclosed, but the end is hidden."
He spake; and gliding into view 175 Forth from the grotto's dimmest chamber Came two mute Swans, whose plumes of dusky white Changed, as the pair approached the light, Drawing an ebon car, their hue (Like clouds of sunset) into lucid amber. 180
Once more did gentle Nina lift The Princess, passive to all changes: The car received her:--then up-went Into the ethereal element The Birds with progress smooth and swift 185 As thought, when through bright regions memory ranges.
Sage Merlin, at the Slumberer's side, Instructs the Swans their way to measure; And soon Caerleon's towers appeared, And notes of minstrelsy were heard 190 From rich pavilions spreading wide, For some high day of long-expected pleasure.
Awe-stricken stood both Knights and Dames Ere on firm ground the car alighted; Eftsoons astonishment was past, 195 For in that face they saw the last Last lingering look of clay, that tames All pride; by which all happiness is blighted.
Said Merlin, "Mighty King, fair Lords, Away with feast and tilt and tourney! 200 Ye saw, throughout this royal House, Ye heard, a rocking marvellous Of turrets, and a clash of swords Self-shaken, as I closed my airy journey.
"Lo! by a destiny well known 205 To mortals, joy is turned to sorrow; This is the wished-for Bride, the Maid Of Egypt, from a rock conveyed Where she by shipwreck had been thrown; Ill sight! but grief may vanish ere the morrow." 210
"Though vast thy power, thy words are weak," Exclaimed the King, "a mockery hateful; Dutiful Child, her lot how hard! Is this her piety's reward? Those watery locks, that bloodless cheek! 215 O winds without remorse! O shore ungrateful!
"Rich robes are fretted by the moth; Towers, temples, fall by stroke of thunder; Will that, or deeper thoughts, abate A Father's sorrow for her fate? 220 He will repent him of his troth; His brain will burn, his stout heart split asunder.
"Alas! and I have caused this woe; For, when my prowess from invading Neighbours Had freed his Realm, he plighted word 225 That he would turn to Christ our Lord, And his dear Daughter on a Knight bestow Whom I should choose for love and matchless labours.
"Her birth was heathen; but a fence Of holy Angels round her hovered: 230 A Lady added to my court So fair, of such divine report And worship, seemed a recompense For fifty kingdoms by my sword recovered.
"Ask not for whom, O Champions true! 235 She was reserved by me her life's betrayer; She who was meant to be a bride Is now a corse: then put aside Vain thoughts, and speed ye, with observance due Of Christian rites, in Christian ground to lay her." 240
"The tomb," said Merlin, "may not close Upon her yet, earth hide her beauty; Not froward to thy sovereign will Esteem me, Liege! if I, whose skill Wafted her hither, interpose 245 To check this pious haste of erring duty.
"My books command me to lay bare The secret thou art bent on keeping: Here must a high attest be given, 249 _What_ Bridegroom was for her ordained by Heaven: And in my glass significants there are Of things that may to gladness turn this weeping.
"For this, approaching, One by One, Thy Knights must touch the cold hand of the Virgin; So, for the favoured One, the Flower may bloom 255 Once more: but, if unchangeable her doom, If life departed be for ever gone, Some blest assurance, from this cloud emerging,
"May teach him to bewail his loss; Not with a grief that, like a vapour, rises 260 And melts; but grief devout that shall endure, And a perpetual growth secure Of purposes which no false thought shall cross, A harvest of high hopes and noble enterprises."
"So be it," said the King;--"anon, 265 Here, where the Princess lies, begin the trial; Knights each in order as ye stand Step forth."--To touch the pallid hand Sir Agravaine advanced; no sign he won From Heaven or earth;--Sir Kaye had like denial. 270
Abashed, Sir Dinas turned away; Even for Sir Percival was no disclosure; Though he, devoutest of all Champions, ere He reached that ebon car, the bier Whereon diffused like snow the Damsel lay, 275 Full thrice had crossed himself in meek composure.
Imagine (but ye Saints! who can?) How in still air the balance trembled-- The wishes, peradventure the despites That overcame some not ungenerous Knights; 280 And all the thoughts that lengthened out a span Of time to Lords and Ladies thus assembled.
What patient confidence was here! And there how many bosoms panted! While drawing toward the car Sir Gawaine, mailed 285 For tournament, his beaver vailed, And softly touched; but, to his princely cheer And high expectancy, no sign was granted.
Next, disencumbered of his harp, Sir Tristram, dear to thousands as a brother, 290 Came to the proof, nor grieved that there ensued No change;--the fair Izonda he had wooed With love too true, a love with pangs too sharp, From hope too distant, not to dread another.
Not so Sir Launcelot; from Heaven's grace 295 A sign he craved, tired slave of vain contrition; The royal Guinever looked passing glad. When his touch failed.--Next came Sir Galahad; He paused, and stood entranced by that still face Whose features he had seen in noontide vision. 300
For late, as near a murmuring stream He rested 'mid an arbour green and shady, Nina, the good Enchantress, shed A light around his mossy bed; And, at her call, a waking dream 305 Prefigured to his sense the Egyptian Lady.
Now, while his bright-haired front he bowed, And stood, far-kenned by mantle furred with ermine, As o'er the insensate Body hung The enrapt, the beautiful, the young, 310 Belief sank deep into the crowd That he the solemn issue would determine.
Nor deem it strange; the Youth had worn That very mantle on a day of glory, The day when he achieved that matchless feat, 315 The marvel of the PERILOUS SEAT, Which whosoe'er approached of strength was shorn, Though King or Knight the most renowned in story.
He touched with hesitating hand-- And lo! those Birds, far-famed through Love's dominions, 320 The Swans, in triumph clap their wings; And their necks play, involved in rings, Like sinless snakes in Eden's happy land;-- "Mine is she," cried the Knight;--again they clapped their pinions.
"Mine was she--mine she is, though dead, 325 And to her name my soul shall cleave in sorrow;" Whereat, a tender twilight streak Of colour dawned upon the Damsel's cheek; And her lips, quickening with uncertain red, Seemed from each other a faint warmth to borrow. 330
Deep was the awe, the rapture high, Of love emboldened, hope with dread entwining, When, to the mouth, relenting Death Allowed a soft and flower-like breath, Precursor to a timid sigh, 335 To lifted eyelids, and a doubtful shining.
In silence did King Arthur gaze Upon the signs that pass away or tarry; In silence watched the gentle strife Of Nature leading back to life; 340 Then eased his soul at length by praise Of God, and Heaven's pure Queen--the blissful Mary.
Then said he, "Take her to thy heart, Sir Galahad! a treasure, that God giveth, Bound by indissoluble ties to thee 345 Through mortal change and immortality; Be happy and unenvied, thou who art A goodly Knight that hath no peer that liveth!"
Not long the Nuptials were delayed; And sage tradition still rehearses 350 The pomp, the glory of that hour When toward the altar from her bower King Arthur led the Egyptian Maid, And Angels carolled these far-echoed verses;--
Who shrinks not from alliance 355 Of evil with good Powers, To God proclaims defiance, And mocks whom he adores.
A Ship to Christ devoted From the Land of Nile did go; 360 Alas! the bright Ship floated, An Idol at her prow.
By magic domination, The Heaven-permitted vent Of purblind mortal passion, 365 Was wrought her punishment.
The Flower, the Form within it, What served they in her need? Her port she could not win it, Nor from mishap be freed. 370
The tempest overcame her, And she was seen no more; But gently, gently blame her-- She cast a Pearl ashore.
The Maid to Jesu hearkened, 375 And kept to him her faith, Till sense in death was darkened, Or sleep akin to death.
But Angels round her pillow Kept watch, a viewless band; 380 And, billow favouring billow, She reached the destined strand.
Blest Pair! whate'er befal you, Your faith in Him approve Who from frail earth can call you 385 To bowers of endless love!
FOOTNOTES:
[668] 1837.
... set forth with wondrous transformation. 1835.
[669] 1837.
... though sad not cheerless. 1835.
[670] 1837.
... shore 1835.
[671] Compare _Paradise Lost_,