A VENETIAN LOVER Ye voices wanderin g forlorn in space, Swee t echoes from celestial sweep of orbs...

EDW ARD KING .

H Véneflian Imbuz

LONDON

KEGAN PAU L,TR ENCH CO .

1,PATERNOSTER SQUARE,1

L’

amor eke muovc {1 sale e l’

a ltrc sfelle .

DANTE Amman -m1.

A VENETIAN LOVER.

We part to -morrow.

Now ve pallid keys,Wake from your mute and brooding e cstasy,Wake into stormy passion,and proclaim

With moving eloquence my great despair l

Ye spirits troubled and invisible

That beat w ith restless win gs the realms of air,

A VENETIAN LOVER

Ye voices wanderin g forlorn in space,

Swee t echoes from celestial sweep of orbs

Unutterably distant— join,and make

One harmony to soften my soul’

s plaint ;

One song to sing my love and my regret

One threnody for my poor heart that die s

Ton ight,and knows no resurrection I

Se e !

The young moon pales before approaching dawn,

And soon the touch of opalescent morn

Sha ll thrill the dim horizon,till it glows

Rose red,as first her face glowed when I touched

My Q8 to hers !

The tender little face !

Oh,agony of parting l— emptiness

Of weary ways where I shall walk algae !

Sackcloth and ashes of my ruined days !

Oh,forehead that I may no more caress

A VENETIAN LOVER

I Q — v "m

Arms that I may not feel !

What man is this

Who moans,and dreads the light,and knows that tears

Burn on his paling cheek

Come music,come

Awake ari se let thy resounding chords

Refresh my faltering soul’

Twas here we met

Here in this ancient! quaint,delightful roomWith painted ceilings and w ith sculptured walls

Here,where the echoes of her footfalls seem

To haun t me,as I muse and mourn,and touch

The old piano’s consecrated keys.

There was a passionate September moon

That ca st its glory on the silent streets

Of gleaming water,on that night of nights

When from the gloomy gondola she stept,Q

And like some vision that our Dante saw

1 2° A VENETIAN LOVER

Tutta fulge n te through the palace door

Passed like a saint,w ith slow harmonious grace.

I stood above her,on the marble stair,

Upholding tremulously the huge lamp

Half glad,half sad — to welcome to these halls

Where once my ancestors abode like kings,’

Mid treasures of the rifled Orient,These strangers from beyond the Western Se a,

These Opulent,sincere,and honest folk

Who fled their freakish climate,and with gold

Healed up my poverty and salved my pride .

And when I felt the beauty of her eyes,

And knew the rapture of her parted lips,

And saw the whiteness of her sweet low brow,

My heart be at loudly,and she heard its throbs,

As past me to the great hushed room she stole .

Then,as upon some thrilled midsummer morn

When our Venetian skies are jubilan t,

A VENETIAN LOVER

—n

A roseate hue spri ngs in the white faint

And burns to dazzling splendor,so there

Into her lilied cheeks a sudden flame

That seemed to penetrate my very soul .

Oh,night of blessing !

H ow my being glowed

H ow all the pent up current of my life

Flowed to her

Never,in divinest dream,

Or maddest,most transcendent rhapsody,

Or in the rush and sweep of organ fugues,

Or’mid enchanting and delirious sway

Of w ild Tedescan waltzes full of love,

Never in waking or in sleeping bliss,

In pant of music or in peace of prayer

Be fore San Marco’s alabaster shrine,

Never upon the luminous lagoons,

Vyhen witching and ethereal moonlight wove

A VENETIAN LOVER

Vast spheres in which th’ imagination swam,

Fearless,rejoicing in the Infinite,

Oh,never had I caught supremest joy,

And moun ted heavenward on its sweeping wings

Until I stood beside her,and she looked

With timid; startled gaze upon me

Dear memory I

The tender little face

Now came the father,bustling eager man,

Grey bearded,with harsh wrinkles on his brow,

Alert w ith care for her he cherished most.

I bent me to my duties as a host,

Here held a light,and here a curtain raised

To English tamed my unaccustomed tongue,

And told them how I learned their golden speech

A VENETIAN LOVERfi-fi —fl n

Rich with its grave sonorous emphasis,Am id the mists o f mighty London .

When

I knew them cloistered in their several rooms,

I felt a longing burn upon my brow,

Nor tri ed to check it. Down I sat,and mused,While on a carven table,in a nook

Close by a balcony,that overhung

The sad dark water,old Anina spread

The simple supper bread and meat and gra pes ;

One wickered flask of red Chian ti cheer

Such as our narrow household rarely knew .

Oh but to see her.

for a moment more 1

So ran my thought and as I mused,she drew

Backward the tapestries that hid a doo r

Orn ate wi th porphyri es that Dandolo

Gave to my ancestors who fought w ith him

The day that Byzan ce fell,and fluttered forth,

A VENETIAN LOVER

A fairy thing of draperies and lace

And subtle perfumes that embalmed the air

Such odors as the great Doge Loreda n

Brought with him from the spicy Cypri an isle ;

Or such as lingered in the rustling robes

Of Catherine Cornaro scents like tho se

That turned the heads of our Venetian dames,

When,at the end of their historic cruise,

The beaked ga lleys home from Asia came,

Their labored sides distended with the stores

Of precious gums and liquids prest from flowers

Culled in the depths of dewy Syrian vales,

Or plucked upon the steep Armenian hills.

The soft light played upon her russe t hair,

And frolicked on the diamond at her throat.

The picture was too beautiful 1 I lost

A VENETIAN LOVER

My eyes in dream . I did not see her pa ss

A moment later ; ye t I think I rose

And murmured some dull courtesy. I heard

Her father clink his glass at table ; knew

He sat at meat— a prosy modern man .

But she

I saw her in a vision bright,

A fair Venetian of the golden time

When Venice was the m istress o f the seas .

Benea th a sa tin canopy she sat,W ithin a swiftly moving gondola

Bedecked w ith richest stufl’

s from Samarcand.

The scarlet dresses of her gondoliers,

The damask flags that fluttered from the roofs,

And all the gleaming train o f darting boats,

Proclaimed her wedding day.

I saw her glide,

Clad in her silken robe of spotless white

A VENETIAN LOVER

Gemmed with its lavish rows of priceless

Across the marbles to the Doge’

s throne .

Musicians softly played on silver pipes,

And matrons stood behind her,while she bowed

Her gentle head.

Her hand was locked in mine

Mv kinsmen backed me,in their ruddy robes

W ith velvet stoles o f black ! patrician - wise

They held their heads erect. Then to the church

Magnificent we moved,a sparkling throng

O f plumed and jewe led ca valiers a nd dames,

Thro’ l iving lanes of maidens passion - browed,

And scarred and limping veterans of wars,

An d laughing workers from the arsenal.

And oh ! the sweetly smelling in cense ! Oh,

The voices singin g in the hidde n choirs !

So passed the vision,and a fire crept in

About my heart and bur ned it.

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20 A VENETIAN LOVER

W ith tanned and gilded leathers all aglow,

And light the angles of this alcove dim

W ith silken hangings starred with countless pearls ;

Here let the Lombard magic gleam anew

In mantles decorated w ith the forms

Of sirens,weird chimeras,airy loves ;

W ith golden roses strew the ceilings blue ;

W ith silver vases and with shining blades,

With cymbals,lutes and medals,heap the boards

Of richly carven tables. Copper lamps,

W ith w inking crystals lavishly bedight,

From chiseled colored beams should ge n tlv swing,

And lan te r ns filled with mirrors should re fl ect

The gracious forms of Roman goddesses

Imprisoned in the faultless marble ; aye,

And you should sip the win e o f Cyprus from

Transparent goblets of Muran ian glass,Poured out of rosy fl agon s softly chilled

A VENETIAN LOVER 2 1

In metal coolers o’er which artisans

In far Damascus had for weary years

Knit their swart brows.

Or when your spirits craved

To thread the storied and romantic past,

On parchments dainty with the pictured wealth

Of monkish fancy ; on the missals rare

Where priests their chaste imaginations fine

Had lavished in their soundless cloister nooks,

Your e yes might feast.

Your lives should daily

Abreast with beauty,from the dawning'

s blush,

Ti ll blessed sleep came with the midnight calm

To press your eyelids down .

Then to your rest,

Through corri dors where webs of costly hues

Were stretched o’er wainscoting yet costlier ;

And where the coffers painted with the deeds

2 2 A VENETIAN LOVER

O f mighty men of Venice in the wars

Of Egypt,Greece,remotest Pale stine,Were ranged in rows ; and o

'

er the pavements wide

Encrusted w ith the marbles of the East,

An d past the dazzling w indows flushe d with shields

And coats of arms,contented should you go.

In oratories where the aureoles

Of imaged saints a heavenly brightness made,

Before the altars might you kneel at prayer ;

Then might you in luxurious couches dream ;

While in re cesses gi lded caryatids

Seemed thoughtfullv to bend upon their toil

Lest thev m ight wake you.

And w ithin the courts

The softly flowing fountains'

lullaby

Should through the tranquil night hours murmur on .

Would that I might w ith quick enchantment bring

For you,my Western gue sts,these marvels back

A VENETIAN LOVER 2

These wonders of the city of the isles

The isles engirdled by th e weird lagoons.

Great Venice is but lost in reverie

Forgive us i f we cannot quite forget

H er fourteen centuries of glory I

Stay

Loud rang the father’s quick imperious tones,

And on the table danced the j ingling glass ;

While o’

er the old man’s face a ripple ran

Instinct with anger,which he strove to check,

And clumsily b emasked beneath a smile

Sir,you w il l set our fancies all aglow,

And take the blush from Venice e'

er we thread

Her mazy lan es of wate r. It is well

You have your pride the past was great and fair.

Yet all this catalogue of luxury

Stirs up a kind of protest in my blood.

I pray you,do not set me down a churl,

A VENETIAN LOVER

If I proclaim your jeweled ancestors

Improvident and thoughtless . Hardy men

Like those of early Venice might have kept

The empire of the seas.

Perhaps I err,

Daughter,your l ips are pale’

Tis very late .

And so he rose and brushed aside the crumbs,

And tossed his napkin down .

I answered thus

Forgive me,sir. Your journey has been long ;

My house is yours. As for my ancestors,

Venice shall teach you in an hundred ways

To love them better. Sir,my servants wait

Upon the lady and yourself."Then she

W ith one coy gesture turned her father’s gaze

To where the pleading moonlight glorified

A VENETIAN LOVER

The ancient panes within the sculptured nooks.

Prosaic man, she murmured,! dare you go

Bedward,while lovely Venice woos the moon !

Come,let us muse upon the balcony ;

I think such perfect nights be rare in life .

He scowled,but followed her. With ne rvous hand

I swung the easeme n t Open,and we saw

Black - fronted palaces o’er which pale gleams

Went wandering serenely lengths of wave

Across which shot belated gondolas,With singing lovers ’neath their canopies .

Cool blew the wind that came in from the sea ;

And as we stepped upon the balcony

Her hand touched mine,and I was thrilled

And in my n ew- born ecstasy was mute

Before th’ unwitting girl,whose gaze was fixed

On the Guidecca in its midnight swoon .

I wonder if there be sad me n who reach

2 5


The dusky gateway of our final house,Not having known the painful joy of love

If there be one who never knew the pang

And bliss of setting all his fiery soul

To contemplation of one woman’s face,

Until for him that face outshone the sun,

And dimmed the chastened radiance of the moon,And put n ew harmonies into the world !

Oh,those first moments when the knowledge comes,When the transforming passion fills the veins,

When the rhapsodic revelation thrills

The grateful heart— would that they might return

That half- hour on .my palace balcony

Was worth a life time of pale loveless hours .

The girl was happy in that moonlit time.

My inspiration rose to meet her mood,Gaining n ew courage from her courte sy,

Which bade her ask me of the olden days


28 A VENETIAN LOVER

On some grea t m iss ion for the j ea lous Sta te,

Grew so e n amored of the Northern Sta r

Tha t he forgot the risks of wi n d a n d tide,

The pa tien t oa r a n d n ervous sa i l forgot,

A n dfixed h is soul upon tha t bea uteous sta r

Wh i le ga z i ng skywa rd,he wa s ca st away

Upon a rocky shore,a n d he ld a sla ve

By cun n i ng en em ies.

Long y ea rs ha d sped

E re he wa s rescued ; a n d the ma n wa s ma d,

Ra n k ma d,a n d ba bb led like a ba be i n a rms.

11e sa id the g lory of the sta r wa s hot,

A n d slowly did con sume h im .

So he died

A begga r a n d the Sta te forgot h is n ame .

i ' l ; i i i i i i Q i i i i i i

I smiled,and bade the ancient crone begone

Be early at thy work,Anina,lest

A VENETIAN LOVER 29

Our northern visitors awake to find

Thee wanting in attention .

!

Then she said

O l ittle signor,by thy music bide,

Nor gaze too long upon the Northern Star.

But while she frowned anew,my heart leaped up,

For in the corridors I heard a voice

A fresh young voice,a singing voice that thril led

My senses. Yet I bent above my toil,

And sought with hasty fingers to portray

By notes and lines the harmony that ra n

Alon g my soul’s chords .

Oh the morn was fair

At te n I threw my toilsome pen a side,Put on brave garments,smoothed my rumpled locks,

Sighed as I saw the silver in my hair

And went in timid mood— irresolute,

To bid my guests good -morrow l

Ave ’tis well

30 A VENETIAN LOVER

The father said my bed was over stocked

With antique draperies,and on my head

I feared a gilded caryatid might fall .

But not a ghost came to disturb my sleep,

And if I heard the squeaking o f a mouse

I wager ’twas in dream . We like the place,

Serene and hoary w ith its memories.

But I am cursed with most unlucky news

Of tumbling stocks ; a dripping gondolier

Came from the consulate an hour agone

!Vith this despatch ! it does n ot marry well

With what you call your Cin que Cento calm .

Sir,I am modern,and I feel depressed

Among your storied stones.

What mav we d o

To fall into Venetian wavs,and so

Court rest— much ne ede d

Good sir,breathe the a ir ;

A VENETIAN LOVER 3 1

Drink in the sunlight,float in gondolas,

Gaze on a picture,linger at a shrine ;

Note how the trustful pigeons downward fly

From the ta ll Campanile in the square ;

Watch the tanned mariners who flock about

The old Dogana ; view the arsenal ;

Sup on afish,and sip a glass of wine,

And pass the late hours at the Opera

Such is our l ife— we cannot Offer more .

Oh may the sunshine of this blessed place

Smooth out the wrinkles on your troubled brow.

SO said the girl,as to her fa ther’

s side

She stole,an d placed a white hand on his head.

In closely fitting garb Of neutral grey

Her slender form was clothed ! her face was bright,

Her eyes were mutinous ! joy danced within

The dimples in her cheeks . But when her gaze

32 A VENETIAN LOVER

Met mine,a hasty sorrow came and went

Acro ss the summer heaven Of her brow,

As goes a light breeze thro’ a garden fair

Rufilin g the flowers .

The tender little

That night the father bade me to his room .

Sir,dine w ith us ;’tis fit in vour own house

You should preside at table We have he ard

Much talk o f you today. My countrymen

Who linger here — idling their davs awav,

Playing with pain ted sun se ts— say you’

re wise

In music,and can make an English song

Catch a n ew glory from Italian art .

I'

ve heard the sunburnt fishers on our coast,

Trollin g for spoil outside the Golden Gate,

Chan t many a pre tty trifle but I knew

A VENETIAN LOVER

N0 word of what they meant.

Sir,we will stav

Sn ug in the palace,for the wind blows cool

Tonight,and my Old bones are querulous.

We dined in state. Anina spread the board

With heirloom treasures,silver,gold,and glass

I had not seen them since my boyhood hours.

Her old hands trembled as she placed my chair,

But she was keen,alert,and dign ified ;

And at dessert she brought strange syrups dropt

In water,saying that my ancestors,Who scourged the Orient an hundred years

Before our house declined,had served them thus,

And so the fashion had been handed down .

Then,fri ghten ed at herself,she slipped away

To light the candles in the music room.

Hither we passed.

33

A VENETIAN LOVER

The father in his chair

Ha lf dozed,half listened,while I sang.

The girl

Ne stled beside him,and her silken robe,

Rustling,made sweeter music to mv ears

Than an y song I knew .

Thus ran the lay

Here let me write it down ; I love to dwell

Upon the first faint words I sang to her


A VENETIAN LOVER

Will our spirits dimly yearn,

As they burn

In Infinity on high,For each old familiar grace

Of this place

Where we l ingered but to die 9

Will our souls remember well

What befell

On that moonl it night in June

Nature swooning into bliss,

And the kiss

That put heart - beats into tune

A VENETIAN LOVER

when I ceased I heard the father’

s ton e s,

Muffl ed and fretful,as one speaks in sleep’

Tis pretty sentiment ; this is the place

For cooing words and melancholy moods.

Thev do not stir our An glo - Saxon hearts.

Is’

t not so,daughter

But she answered not .

A VENETIAN LOVER

Then I bethought me of a song I heard

Among the hills of Upper Austri a,When in my youth I took a pilgrimage

Thro’ that stran ge land,for which I hold

But much stern enmity.

’Twas summer time,

And war was near. It was a woman sang

Te ars in her voice. I think I see her n ow

White - l ipp'

ed,protestin g’

gain st the sacrilege

O f battle for the statesmen’

s fantasies

And one dull day in London,when I met

A poet who was hungry for a theme,

I gave him this heart- broken woman ’s wail,

Prison ed in dialect like gold in quartz,

And strung upon a quaint pathetic air

SO he .w ith English touch transformed it thus

A VENETIAN LOVER

Oh Emperor ! Great Emperor !

Your cruel trumpets cry for war,Ta rauta ra,tan ta ra,ta n ta rc

‘

z !

The wheat is nodding in the sun,The harvest work is just begun

But,mighty Emperor,I hear

A clash of sword,a clink Of spear ;

A VENETIAN LOVER

Down thro’

the fe rtile valley comes

An echo from the beaten drums,

And up among the mountains ring

Voices of those who riding sing"Now hy lo ho the trumpets blow !

The horse s go in pacing row

Across the ben ding grasses

Now by 10 ho ! the bugles blow !

And what care we for lasses !

Oh Emperor ! Great Emperor !

Tell me what God made women for !

Ta rauta ra,tan ta ra,ta n ta ra .’

Was it to hear these trumpets play

To call our lovers to the fray !

A VENETIAN LOVER

Was it to know the wind- blown rain

Falls on our wounded and our slain,Where they lie heaped in foreig n lands

Was it in vain to stretch our hands

To those who shall return no more !

May we not curse the can non’s roar !

But by lo ho ! the trumpets blow

The world must know you hate your

Your splendid army passes !

But hy lo ho ! your bugles blow !

And what care you for lasses !

Oh,Emperor ! Great Emperor !

Last night I had a visitor ;

Ta rauta ra,tan ta ra,ta n ta ra .’

A VENETIAN LOVER

In sleep I heard the bugles scream,My lover came to me in dream ;

In reddest blood his hands were dyed,

A gapin g wound was in his side ;

My heart cried to him,an d he said

I am arisen from the dead !

0 love ! forget your grief and pain,

And let me sing you this refrain

Now hy lo ho ! the trumpets blow

With laurels strew the field of woe

Whe re comrades brave are lying !

Then,by 10 ho ! the bugles blow !

An d soldiers’

trade is dying !


A VENETIAN LOVER

We,sir,live in the sunshine,like yourselves ;Our fragrant land beside the western se a

Is bloomy,full Of fruits and lustrous greens ;

But there’

s a Vigor in the atmosphe re

That makes our hearts beat to heroic tune .

Deep falls the snow along our mountain sides

In the capricious winter ; and wild rains

Grossen the torrents in the canyons vast,

And hurl themselves upon the thirsty sand.

Nature oft spurs us w ith ungentle hand

To utmost energy. We cannot sit

With fawning fingers to caress a lute,

Wooing unseen ideals with our lips

And so we better like your latest son g

Albeit a mortal sadness freights its rhyme

Than all your sweet Venetian barcaroles.

Forgive me,father,but the first song fell

With truer music on this Southern a ir.

A VENETIAN LOVER

So said the girl,and timidly uprose

And caught her laces round her.

Lo ! the moon

Came to ca ress her forehead virgin al,

Putting to shame . the can dles’ feeble glare.

I mutely gazed on her tran sfigured form,And all the father's prating was forgot

In presence of her b e autv.

From that night

I date the consecration of our love,

Although she gave'

no sign .

The days sped o n,

Wh ile Venice wove its grave idyllic charm

About her soul . She took a little maid

From an oldfisher’s household,and these twainFlitted thro’ churches and thro

’

ga lleries

In the warm afternoons.

The father dozed,

A VENETIAN LOVER

Or read his crackling prints from

Or,with a patient protest on his

Unloosed his purse strings at his

In shops and pa in ters’ garrets.

And at n ight

I read them legen ds of histori c days

Shrined by my poet fri end in English verse °

Oh happy momen ts,will ye come no more 9

At last the longed for revelation came

Let me muse on it .

would that I might die

Dreaming of that del irious night !

We read

Stories of Venice from this manuscript

Which lies before me as tonight I muse

Upon this anguish of my broken love.

A VENETIAN LOVER

My poet,wearied wi th unfin itful strife,Died in a London hospita l .

His will

Was sad an d cyn ical as‘

was his end

Lo,friend,I give to thee my all my verse

Burn it or keep it,as thou wilt. Farewell .

On that eventful night I read the

Of Loredan the Captain . Let me

The pages over. H ow the letters

Instinct with action !

Truly poets live

Mysteriously after they are dead.

A VENETIAN LOVER

CAPTA IN LOREDAN .

Old Venice grappled with the Turk

In fourteen hundred n inety - nine ;

In truth it was a troubled work,And ruddy were the seas as wine ;

For dread Bajaze t set afloat

A VENETIAN LOVER

Against our flee t three hundred sail ;

And when he took a fishing boat,

Remorselessly his soldiers smote

Our helpless men and poure d their blood

Upon the Adriati c s flood.

His cruisers left a bloody trail.

Our Admiral Grimani lay

In hesitating silence till

While yet irresolute,one day

He heard our flock of galleys thrill

With lusty,manly singi ng,With clamor loud and long ;

And through his brain went ringing

This burden of the son g

0h,where is Capta i n Loreda n

For he wi ll show the way I

Give us our Capta i n Loreda n,

50 A VENETIAN ! LOVER

A n d we wi ll tempt the fray !

Now liste n to th is hoa ry ma n

Who lea n s upon h is oa r

H e’ll te ll y ou how bra ve Loreda n

Slew twe n ty Ta rks a nd more

So through the ships the story ran,And o

'

er the seas the glory ran

The story Of

The glory of

Victorious great Loredan

Grimani felt his cheeks white,

But n ot w ith fear it was with rage ;

For he had sworn that in this fight

He’d blot proud Loredan’

s bright page.

What is this Captain Loredan


A VENETIAN LOVER

H e wi ll n ot b id us stay


t o lea n s upon h is oa r

Ife’/l te ll y ou how sta un ch Loreda n

H a s swept the wa ves before .

SO through the ships the story ran

And o’er the seas the glorv ran,

The story of

The glory of

Victorious great Loredan .

Nor day nor night Griman i stirred ;

The Turkish fleet,grown bold,drew ne ar.

Our me n,impatien t,begged the word

For action,but Griman i’

s sneer

Froze up their hearts ; until one morn,

A VENETIAN LOVER

Out from the shimmering splendor broke

A blood- red dawn for battle born

And haughtily,as if in scorn,

The Crescent’

s pennant fluttered h igh

Upon a mighty craft,close by,Standing alone.

Then,with one stroke

Of springing oars,a ga lley sped

Out from our midst a second came

To join her — and like lightning fled

Beyond Griman i’

s cry of Shame !

What are those oarsmen singing

Who my command disdain 9

Back came the answer,ringing

In strange ecstatic strain

Th is is the Capta i n Loreda n

These be h is ga lley s twa i n

53

A VENETIAN LOVER

Lo here is Capta i n Loreda n,Whom fools ca n n ot restra i n


Who to i ls upon h is oa r

A n d wi n with Capta i n Loreda n,Or Ven ice see n o more

SO through the ships the story ran

And through all hearts the glory ran

The story Of

The glory of


The Turkish monster thri lled with life

From her gigantic sides rained down

Huge missiles w ith destruction rife

And many a fighter fell to drown

A VENETIAN LOVER 5

Be tween the galleys' sides that shook

As if wi th frenzied laughter,when

The thunders of our cannon took

The’

yellow . from the Turk's wild look,And brought the ashes to his lips.

He could not fight these bellowing ships,Nor war with these enchanted men

Who climbed along his galleon'

s rail ;

Who swam,and sank,an d sprang in space,Still fighting ; men who scorned to wail,Tho

' ca rved by swords ; and who with grace

Kept up their rhythmic singing

With dying lips that bled,San g— to the galleys clinging

With fingers battle - red

Th is is the Capta i n Loreda n,A nd we a re a ll h is me n

bl

A VENETIAN LOVER

flow like y ou Capta i n Loreda n,Whofights y ou on e to te n

Now liste n to th is hoa ry ma n,Who sti ll is a t h is oa r ;

A n d fl y from Capta i n Loreda n,Or By za n ce see n o more

So through the ships the story ran,And o

’

er the seas the glory ran

The story of

The glory of


Swift sail ing from the roseate East

Came kindred ships the Turks to aid.

And n ow the struggle’

s rage increased ;

A VENETIAN LOVER

Wild flames broke forth to make afra id

The Moslems on their conquered craft.

Just as the banner of Saint Mark

Was raised upon her,fore and aft

Came a weird shudder ; and abaft

The wretched Turks ran quakingly

To leap into the crimsoned sea.

Then came vast thunder.

It was dark.

The ship,our Splendid galleys,all

Went skyward— rending friends and foes,

As fire burst through the wooden wall

TO stores of powder.

Then arose

Out of the chaos bringing

A harmon y‘omple te

A soun d of voices singin g

This chorus strong and sweet

A VENETIAN LOVER

To die wi th Capta i n Loreda n

Is j oy en ough for me n

Who would n ot die for Loreda n,No ma tter how or when

Oh,listen to th is hoa ry ma n

Who fl oa ts upon h is oa r

H e s i ngs the dea th of Loreda n

Who n e’er wi ll lea d us more f

!

To Venice so the story ran,And through the world the glory

The story of

The glory of

Victorious dead Loredan !


A VENETIAN LOVER

By angry illn ess,rang a warning bell

;I‘

hat jangled loudly r,the corridor.She rose,obedient to his petulance

Bade me good night ! I kissed her on her lips

I ’ faith,’twas natural I know not how

Or why I !Ed it and I held her,flushed

And cold by turns,a moment to my heart.

Then she awoke the maid,and stole gway,

Nor cast a backward look.

First kiss of Love !

Life holds no othe r gift so dear as thine !

Thereafter all the days were fine.

0 sweet

The tremulous sudden meeting of our hands,

The silen t wedding of our pleading eyes,

The surge of hearts’

blood when our garments touched !

Sweet to arise at morn from dreams of her

A VENETIAN LOVER

Sweeter to long for her beloved face

Than fully to possess some grosser joy

Oh sweet to sit beside her in the dark

While to Torcello rowe d our gondolier,

Pi ercing w ith melodies the Odorous night,

And writin g ripplin g couplets w ith his oar

On the respon sive water !

Sweet to feel

The round world throbbin g into harmon y

With the majestic me asures of our bliss

O passion ately and divinely sweet

To know that high enraptured love was ours ;

And thro’ it half to guess Infinity

By that strange vast enlargement Of the soul

Which comes with love

To feel a scorn of Death,

Because there is one treasure richer far

Than Orient depths of sea agleam w ith pearl

62 A VENETIAN LOVER

Than ga lleons laden with encrusted spoil

Of pillaged monasteries ri cher still

Than sacristies heaped with the crowns of kings,

An d priceless gems of pope s and ca rdinals,

One treasure that this same ungracious death

May neve r ravi sh from us

Love,that mocks

At fatal severance of our feeble breath,

And knows eternal youth beyond the tomb !

We part tomorrow,and for ever ! Stay,

0 cruel dawn put Off thy rosy march,

And let me woo remembrance in the dark !

Aye,moments when the sensuous joy Of l ife,

The play of muscle and the heat of veins,

Delight Of vision and con tent of nerve,

When all these glorie s of existe nce palled

A VENETIAN LOVER

Before the base and trenchant fear of death,

Ye can return no more.

Fled are the doubts

Misshapen creatures from the hidden world

Gone are the mockeries that nature brought

To sting me in to madness.

Love has come

To make my days and nights one golden dream .

Rude Time and ruder Circumstance,jog on,

O fatal twain,in sullen pilgrimage ;

I will not listen to your weary tread

I will not mark the turns of Fortune 3 wheel,

Nor hear the shouting in the market- place,Nor tremble at the battle shock,nor blanch

At pestilence .

For wha t can harm me n ow 9

Do I not loVe,and am I not beloved !

Why have I cri ed against my fate that bids

64 A VENETIAN LOVER

Forth from my arms the woman I adore !

Upon their eager wings our spirits mount

To luminous and boundless fields of a ir,

To heights sere ne where earthly passion’s thrill

Were profanation

Yet I shall regret,

Perchance,when Venice knows her face no more,

That w ild night whe n she came into my arms

And clung an instant there— then kissed and fled

Ere I could give her kisses back again

Fle d past the startled waving tapestries,

And hid her coy confusion in her room .

I shall start up when I am here alone

And think I hear her footstep.

Coward heart

Wilt not be still !


Oh death in life ! I cannot let her go '

A VENETIAN LOVER

Grea t souls that strive to ri se upon their fl ight

To noblest course have strongest need of love.

They do but sublima te their passions. Se e,My English poet taught this in his verse,While musing on the mighty Florentine

Who probed Eternity and mocked at space ;

May n o t my heart find comfort in the rhyme .9

So run s it in the ghostly manuscript

A VENETIAN LOVER

Some say that Dante sang as one

Who wept while singing ; but I think

That when he trod the dreadful brink

Of Hell,and felt the vapors dim


68 A VENETIAN LOVER

Of his pure love struck higher strain

Than momentary wail of pain,

And thrilled Inferno w ith its kiss.

even he,who set his feet

On ways no other mortal knew ;

Whose fine imagin ation fl ew

Heavenward,eternity to greet ;

Whose rapt poetic vision bent

Downward,where death and shadows meet

Not even he,as forth he went,

The sad - browed Titan,to explore

That sea that n ever had a shore

Dared to neglect Love’

s sacrament.

A VENETIAN LOVER

The love he knew on earth below

Walked with him ’mid the choiring stars ;

Cheered him,as past the dismal bars

Of Death’

s dark portal,with a slow

Yet dauntless pace his course he took,

Intent the mysteries to know .

Nor ghost nor god his courage shook ;

And when his spirit seemed to swoon

In splendor of supemal noon

On Beatrice would he look .

70 A VENETIAN LOVER

One day a shadow fell . The father came,Frowning and pale with pains,not yet o

’

e rcome

By all his daughter’s studied loving ca re,To pluck my sleeve and ask an interview

Sir,I do th iqk you are a gentleman

As one who bears a good historic name,As one who lives a cleanly life,who wri tes

Fair music as my host n ay as a man,I do respect you. Sir,I will say more

A VENETIAN LOVER 7 r

I like you he agtily. Come ! there’s my hand,

Now let me say a bitter,cruel thin g

! ou ca nn ot wed my daughter.

She is pledged.

When she came here she kn ew it not.

Last n ight

I told her all. If I have been a fool,It is too late my folly to correct .

And then he paused,and leaned again st the

And mopped his brow and eyed me wi th a

That cut me like a keen wind.

’

Not a word

Came from my lips.

He frowned as if my thought

Sat o n my brow defiant.

In my land

We trust our ma idens utterly to lay

Suspicion on their movements were to doubt

72 A VENETIAN LOVER

Ourselves ; our love demands no guargn te e .

Sir,I have se en you twain together read

From many books,have heard you sing sweet son gs ;Have let you go unwatched along the ways

At eve or morn ; have hired no servant’s eye ;

To do a slavish spying. Now I think

The magic of your Venice,or your voice,Or many things together,have entranced

My daughter’s heart .

Mayhap the blame is mine

I had fo rgot she is m more a child

The years glide n o iseLe ssly.

I give you pain

I bowed,and took his trembling hand in mine.

Few words I spoke ; but they were touched with

And though he scowled,he listened.

I do love

The gentle lady with a love as true

A VENETIAN LOVER 73

As soul that never knew a baleful scar

Of wrongful passion e’er can Offer her ;

And with humility I here confess

That so my love is woven with my life,So is it woun d about my faithful heart

That nought but death could make its rapture cease

And when my breath is stilled,I do believe’

Twill l inger on in some celestial form

More potent e'

en than n ow.

We stood apart,

Eying each other like two men who meet

Upon a narrow precipice's brink,

Each one resolved to cast the other down

And to pass on to safety.

Have you had

Confession from her lips he asked,l ike one

Who dreads to hear the answer.

Is it so !

A VENETIAN LOVER

On rushed the current of his heated Speech .

Then you shall kn ow,for yours are honest

An d I would stand acquitted in your sight

Of any tyrann y.

I had n ot dreamed

Love was so near. Sir,I will tell you all.

Sit in your nook while I walk to and fro ;

It cools the dancing fever in my blood.

I was a common man,and am so still

But I have lived a rude adventurous life.

Thrice have I stare d disaster in the face,And thrice the same hand saved me.

I have known

A love of friendship passing that Of maid

Or mother.

Thirty years ago,I toiled,


A VENETIAN LOVER

Was big with danger,and the heat by day

Drank up our blood. On e torrid aftern oon

When,crazed with thirst,I wan dered from the

I saw a cooling lake before me rise

With grateful palm tre es on its reedy banks,And on the blue horizon skimmed a sail .

It was the ocean’s ghost,the dread mirage,

The somber peril of the desert. On

And on I staggered,with my eyes ablaze,

Until I fell face downward.

.What was death

In those wild days to men who saw her face

Peeping from every dusty clump of sage 9

Sir,I had died forgotten on that waste,

But for one man,a n ew - found friend,who traced

My wavering steps,and with such sudden strength

As pioneers alon e can muster,raised

My dying form,and packed me on his back

A VENETIAN LOVER

And bore me into camp.

We touched our goal

We wrested gold and silver from the rocks,And joy was w ith me,for that faithful man

Toiled ever at my side .

Ten years swept by .

We reached the city at the Golden Gate

Waxed ri ch in - trade. I took a wife,and she,My child,the idol of my heart,was born ;And as the crown of my felicity,

The fri end abode w ith us.

There came a time

When nature,maddened at our empire,rose

With fearful shocks to drive us from our homes ;

The solid earth rebelled against our tread ;

My roof- tree fell ; my wi fe was crushed ; I ran,Clutchingmy in

fant daughter to my breast,Desolate

’mid the ruins ; and the crash

77

78 A VENETIAN LOVER

Of fal ling houses would have whelmed us both

Had not two strong arms borne us from the wreck

They were the brave arms of my friend.

Once more

We toiled together,storing up n ew wealth .

We learned to play with million s ; i n our hands

All prospe red ; time'

s relentless current made

No warning noises in our heedless ears.

Pausing an instant in our upward course,We saw my daughter grown to womanhood,

More be autiful than we had dared to hope,

And then we knew our beards were fl e cked with white .

Well,in those moments I grew over bold

Men’

s minds were changed ; a fatal madness ran

Thro’

every mart ; we played with paper stocks

As gamblers play at cards . My prudent friend

Shunned every glittering chance ; but 1,poor fool,

A VENETIAN LOVER 79

Mocked at his wi sdom staked my ample hoard

Upon a giddy hazard. Then the storm

Broke forth an hundred weighty names were wrecked,And mine was tottering. Sir,unseen hands,Ere I could check them,showered in my path

The wealth I needed,and I stood the strain,Outrode the tempest,and retrieved my loss ;

They were the true hands of my ea rnest friend

That held me back from ruin l

Thrice he came

As sen t by Fate,and thrice he bound me thus

In forfeit to him.

Then I took an oath

Upon my l i fe and honor saved by him,

And thus I phrased it

Friend,my all is yours ;

H e n oeforth I hold it but in trust. I pledge

The whole to you,and by my love I swear

80 A VENETIAN LOVER

To give you whatsoever I possess

With glad a lacri ty,if aught Of mine

Can bring you comfort or content.’

What

Could man have done

A soft light filled his eyes.’

Give me the gi rl to wife !

In loving you

I so have learned to love her,that I feel

My life enlinked most tenderly with hers.’

SO said my friend. She yet has looked upon

No youth with favor. Tho’ my face . be Old,My heart is young. I ask it of your love,Not Of your fond and foolish gratitude

Give me the maid to wife ! She does not look

Un kindly on me !’

So the girl was pledged.

And as I strive to be an honest man,

A VENETIAN LOVER

I swear I thought t’was honor,peace,del ight

To which I pledged her.

But she knew it not,Nor dreamed or any marri age. So we came

Eastward,across the fat lands and the sea,And every day I whispered to myself

My fri en d,my well- beloved fri en d,shall wed

My daughter,in some Old fantastic town

Of EurOpe,whither he shall follow us

Then we will wander up and down the world,A blessed trio,triply bound in love,Until our hearts cry for our home again .

An d n ow the charm Of Venice,or your voice,

Or man y things together Sir,you know

All you must know my frien d comes on apace ;

We soon shall see him here ; the gi rl is pledged,

In extricably pledged the fault is mine ;

82 A VENETIAN LOVER

But all her l ife she has revered the man

Who comes to wed her ; after reveren ce love

Will follow. Le t us dwell on this no more

I pray you,set aside an idle dream ;

Still read your books and sing your pretty songs

Together,but unlearn your love for her ;

Think of it as a vi sion o f the night,

For e’er this month is old we shall be gone

From Venice. Let me n o t disturb you,Sir,W ith farther b’abble.

Then he bowed and went .

I have seen days so black with thick despair

NO sun could cheer them .

This was such a

I sat with folded hands l ike some poor girl

Who reads a letter fallen into her lap,

An d finds therein news of her lover’s death


84 A VENETIAN LOVER

And fell back to mute hopelessness.

The mom

Went slowly,and I hated it. I rose,And idly played wi th an unfinished score,

Then tore it into fragments,wi th distrust

Of my perturbed brain grown quickly sharp

And all the strength seemed taken from my

while I mused disconsolate,I heard

A fresh young voice that sang a sweet sad song

The song I set to music for the girl

I think the words are graven on my soul

VENETIAN LOVER

Oh the happy afternoon,When,upon the lon e lagoon,In a gondola we rode,

Thou and I

86 A VENETIAN LOVER

H ow the merry sunshine glowed

In the spray that fled and flowed,

Rippled,tinkled,fell to die

On the water ! Oh,the swoon

Of the earth and air and sky !

Oh,the cry

Of the swaying gondolier,As he sang his toil to cheer !

Oh,the color on thy cheek !

Love ! did not try to speak ;

We could only sigh.

Oh the midnight sweet with moon,When across the pale lagoon

A VENETIAN LOVER 87

In the gondola we fl ed

Thou and I .

H ow the melancholy dread

Of our parting bowed thy head

H ow the moments seemed to fly !

Love,I cried,’

tis yet too soon,And I dare not say good- bye !

Let us try

All our sorrow tOforget

But my coward eyes were we t.

Oh,the pa llor on thy brow !

Love ! that nigh t reca lling n ow,Are thine own eyes dry !

88 A VENETIAN LOVER

I ca ught a fleeting courage the song.

Methought she sang it not as one who took

With limp Obedience her father’s wish

And made it her’

s. And yet,I knew not whyShe sang it. All that day I saw her not ;

But,on the morrow,in San Marco's square,

I found her all b e - ribboned and as bright

With laughter as a fairy ; not a hint

Of broken love was in her tripping tones.

A VENETIAN LOVER

Her maid was laden down with pictures,gems,

Mosa ics silly trifl es doubly paid

To graspin g merchan ts and her father came

Behind the girl,a letter in his hand.

Good news,! he cri ed ; my fri end,my dearest friend,

Him of the thirsty Ari zon ian waste,Him Of the earthquake— he— the helpful on e,

Whose tale I told you,he will soon be here

Se e,how he writes,the tyrant,as he ta lks

I come to Ven ice ; meet me at the ball

Given six nights hence in honor of a duke

In some Old palace on the Grand Canal,

By that good Lady Lowkn ot,whom we met

At Monterey one summer. You are bid,

You and your daughter when cool midnight sounds

Amid the dancers at that merry ball,

A VENETIAN LOVER

There mee t me— n ot before.

I wish it so .

Long years ago I dreamed on’

t. You and I,

Our girdles filled with good gold from the

Meeting in ancient Venice in a crowd

Of masqueraders— gravely as two Iews

On the Rialto ! To your daughter say,So ran the letter’s sense to just this point

Where moving jealousy awoke myfi'own,When,wi th a tremor in her voice,the girl

Cried to him, Do not vex our kindly host

With this weak fancy,planned by telegraph

From far- Off London,w ith romantic zest,By idle lords for idle ladies

’ routs.

I like not meeting Old fri ends in a thron°

g

Of gapin g dandies."

Yet it shall be so,

The father said.


A VENETIAN LOVER

That banished appre hen sion .

So we sang

And read once more together,eagerly,Yet with a certa in tenderness that cast

A holy light on our felicity.

The father bustled in and out,nor took

Apparent heed of our companion ship ;

And so we bolder grew,and talked of love,

And daintily philosophized on death,

The darksome future a nd the spirit l ife,Bereavement’s somber pang and then I read

A legend from my poet’

s manuscript ;

The last,alas that I shall read to her

A VENETIAN LOVER

TH E PATRI GIAN’

S CHO ICE .

H ow still the sweet youth lay upon his couch !

Tho’

Death had touched his lovely body,none

Amid the weeping and the woe - struck throng

Of his patrician kindred owned despair ;

93

A VENETIAN LOVER

And thro’ each brain there ran the mun n urous thought

The gen tle boy,heir of the noble house,

The peer of princes,Fortune'

s chosen on e,

He cannot die he is too young,too fair,He is not dead he lingers in a dream.

Outside the waters lapped the palace steps

Sweet Venice seemed to swoon away in bliss

Of sensuous summer sunset drown ed in waves,

And tremulously sang the gondoliers

In underbreath the lines Of Tasso’

s song.

The women on the balconies forgot

Their evening chatter,and the beggars had

A newer sorrow in their pleading tones,

For all the town was trembling for the boy .

A VENETIAN LOVER

C Q

H ow could the angel of the sepulchre

Sweep with his sable wing the brow untouched

By thri ll of love,or passion’s angry hand ;

Those lips inviolate of siren’

s.kiss ;

The arm which never ra ised a brawling sword

Death should not dim the splendor of this pearl

Till it had gleamed for many proud decades

Upon Venetia’s bosom ; so

’twas said

By peer and fisher in San Marco’

s square .

Now slowly came the purple afterglow

To play upon the hundred marble walls,

95

96 A VENETIAN LOVER

And on the dresses of the waiting crowd ;

And i ts delirious magic put a joy

And lust for all the witchery orlife!

In every beating heart. With one accord

The people cried, The boy,the peerless boy !

Death sh all not taste the sweetness of his breath ;

Let’s to the palace with the Saint.

Then solemnly unto the ancient church

In long procession went the eager folk ;

And there,within the,prayerful atmosphere,Before an agate shrine with jasper gemrn ed,

They found the Saint a wondrous holy man,On whom ren own of miracles had cast

A VENETIAN LOVER 97

A halo of the supernatural

And through the panting accents Of their fear

He caught their wish— that he should save the youth .

A l ittle time he dwelt on bended knee

His fa in t words,floating on the chastened air,Whi lom he prayed,brought to the troubled men

A confidence which thrilled their hearts.

At

He rose,and undern eath the gorgeous dome,Ruddy with rich mosaics Byzantin e,H e stood a momen t in the fading light,Clasping his han ds,and ga zing upward then

He girt his robe,and murmured

Follow me

A VENETIAN LOVER

SO forth they went,exultant with the hope

That he who led them on would crown their w ish

And,as they left the church,the shadows fell

Upon the gleaming marbles of the East,

And on the dusky bron zes in the nooks,

And on the richly carven capitals

Of stately columns while a gentle ray

Of fading daylight touched the pictured ston es

And gilded horses at the portal’

s top .

Full hurriedly thev swept across the square,

And through the labyrinthine avenues

The bridges seemed to spring beneath their feet ;


A VENETIAN LOVER

Passe d like a vision through their shrinking ran ks.

S traightway the many marble steps he climbed,

And to the dead youth’

s bed he softly stole.

The weeping mother at his feet fell down.

Alas,the pity ! Ah,the dread ! The doom !

My gentle son is lost is dead indeed !

Our love beguiled us,and we though t‘h e lay

But in a trance. If Heaven hatll sent the e here’Tis n ot too late to work a miracle.

Oh,call him back to love and jocund life,

That he may crown his name w ith mighty deeds,And warm me w ith the lustre Of his eyes.

!

A.VENETIAN LOVER IOI

So plead the mother,whi le around her pressed

Blonde maids,with chestnut eyes and russet hair,Who thought w ith murm ured words to stay her grief.

But tenderly the Saint unloosed the hands

Which tugged,irriploring,at his gan n e n t’

s hem,

And pushing past the sacramental priests

Whose gowns still smelled of the anointing Oil,And past the kneeling cava l iers and dames,He fixed his eyes upon the dead youth’s face.

With shaking hand an ancien t friar began

To light the tapers,and their solemn sheen

102 A VENETIAN LOVER

Fell on the gilded samite on the walls,

Upon the bent and striving ca ryatids,

On Grecian marble an d on damask cloths,On bronze an d silver bells,and chandeliers ;

The golden cups and coppe r basins caught

A faint reflection of the sacred gleam ;

An d pa inted co fl'

ers richly seemed to. glow.

The carven couch whereon the dead boy lay

Was studded o’

er with turquoise,gold,and pearl

Dense perfumes from the silken canopies

Filled all the air ; the satin coverlet

With golden fri n ges and with webs of lace

Was dazzling but the Saint saw none of these

He gazed upon the beautiful dead face


A VENETIAN LOVER

Beyond an ebon y in crusted door,

Swun g open,was a panoplied array

Of halberds and of lances damascened,

Of bucklers,standards,trophies,banderoles

Of arms which Ghisi the gre at Mantuan

Had wrought wi th subtle skill the cupboards shone

With precious stones and in the n iches

Majolicas and statuettes and gems,Or

The legacies of war- like ancestors.

A window in this princely arm ory

O’

er- looked a garden in a spacious court ;

The scent Of jasmine and Of orange came

A VENETIAN LOVER re 5

Deliciously adrift through colonnades

Of Oriental jasper foun tains san g

Their idylls to the statues on their brinks ;

Here life was poetry ; and here to die

Se emed dire misfortune,for the heart was wooed

To highest pleasures in this gracious place.

! VI I

A mystica l exalted purpose se t

A halo on the gri m Saint'

s wrinkled brow

And when he spoke,his voice was that Of

Who feels an inspira tion move his soul

And dare n ot disobey it.

Thus he said

Dead one,who died when'

on life’

s threshold,wake !


Great Venice cannot think thee dead ; return

To all who love thee,and to love itself

To love,to fame,to glory,and to joy.

! VIII

Then came to pass a thing most wonderful

The dead face softened,and the closed eyes

Opened,and fixed their gaze upon the Sa int.

Quick color tinged the yet unbearded cheek

The breath came,and the sweet boy lived again ;

Yet while his half appalled mother ye am ed

With outstretched arms,the eyes seemed to regret

Some vast effulgence they had lately seen,And longed once more to see without delay.



If death be but the cloud behind which light

Unspeakable,and pleasures infinite,

Tranqui lities sublime,divine repose,

Celestial ecstacy,await us — then

I charge thee,lovely boy,seal up thine eyes,

Put this poor world behind thee,an d return

Into the glories that we know not of.

The youth’s eyes with a sudden rapture filled ;

Unutterable splendor clothed his brow ;

He raised his white right hand and put away

Life from him,as i f it were poorer far,Tho’ it might linger thro ’ a century,Than one half- glimpse Of that eternity

A VENETIAN LOVER

Whence he returned a moment,at behest

Of this pure se'

i in t ; then,’mid the go lden

And laces of the couch,he fell back— dead !

I10 VENETIAN LOVER

H ad he but known the infinite delightOf love,poor youth!he would have ca ught

As drowners pluck at air that g urgles up

Before their dying eyes

would not have cared

For Paradise,without his soul’

s twin there

Beside him would have come down from the stars

And starved in hovels to be n ear his love.


A VENETIAN LOVER

Hardest of all in Venice here to die ;

For this embodied and enchan ted dream,This gem of art in Nature

’s fairest frame,Unique and dazzling,adds n ew joy to life,

And to mine own,that here has found love’

s crown,

A sacred bliss that nought i n the Beyond

Could compensate for loss of.

Then with tears

And sobs tumultuous,she pledged agai n

Her love to mine,and on her brow there sat

A holy tenderness.

Next morn her eyes

were dulled wi th weeping,for the father’s plan,

Ripen ed in haste to thwart our souls’ desires,Was curtly placed before her.

Ere the noon

Was hot,I saw a hateful gondola

Beating its prow against our palace steps,

A VENETIAN LOVER r13

And soon wi th boxes,pictures,trinkets,books,’

Twas filled by tripping servants.

O’

er my face

Dark shadows brooded,when the father came

To pay me gold and ask for a receipt

With cold commercia l courtesy.

I signed

The paper that my ho t eyes scarcely saw.

My fingers trembled,and my heart leaped

With its Ita lian quickness.

The n the man,

With something like a quave r in his voice,Wished me good thin gs,and said my fame was sure,If all the babble of Ve netian lips

Were half confirmed he hoped I would not dwell

On bygone episodes ; and so Good day.

He sought a hostelry there to prepare

His daughter for her meeting wi th h is friend ;8

r14 A VENETIAN LOVER

Bade me to come and see them,and was gone,Like on e who feared to tarry

Ah ! my love !

I could n ot fly to take thee mine arms,

And urge thy yielding heart cry to mine

For instant rescue.

But I groped my way

Thro ’ the glad sun light that oppressed mine eyes

With insolent rejoicing,down the stairs,

And stood beside thee,saying murmurous things

Conventional,nor daring once to look

On thine appealin g beauty.

Thou wert

I heard the ripple Of the feathered oar,

And then Anin a took me by the han d

And led me,unresisting,to my books.

I shuddered,then was calm.

Great grief is calm !


1 r6 VENETIAN LOVER

Love in the night,love in the day,Love that goe s with me all the way,

Strong love that will not let me stray,That is the love for me .

A VENETIAN LOVER

Touch han ds and lips an d sa il afar,My love shall guide thee l ike a star ;

Nor time nor space my love shall mar,For I love only thee.

know thy heart and soul are mine ;

know my will,my prayers are thine ;

need nor word n or wri tten Sign

To tell me what I know.

Sometimes I hunger for thine eyes,But then my faithful s pirit fl ies


To thine,and tells thee Of my sighs

And of my passion’

s

brings me safely to thine arms,

Shelters me from hundred harm s,

keeps for ever n ew thy charms

And conse crates our bliss.

Love in the dusk,love at the dawn ;

Sweet Love that placed our hearts in pawn,When down to death we two have gone

We sti ll shall feel thy kiss



Love,I am not overbold ;

Chide me not if I invite thee

Love,I would not have thee hold

Me,thine own,as coy or cold

Come ! thy presence shall delight me

Meet me in the sun or storm,

A VENETIAN LOVER

Meet me in the solemn gleamin g

Of the moonlight,pouring,streaming

Over waves that still are warm

From the day’s impetuous kiss

Meet me when thou wi lt and where !

Say the word ; I’

ll follow gladly !

Oh ! thy hand in mine were bl iss !

What for thee may I n ot dare

For my love,I love thee madly !

Rose upon my bo som worn,

GO to him and say I love him

Perfumed tinted peta ls torn,Whisper to him not to mourn ;

Naught on ea rth I prize above him’Tis my duty and my pri de

Thus with faithful lips confessing


All the beauty and the blessing

Of our loves,no thought to h ide

From the ido l of my soul .

Se e him where I may and when,

At his look my he art beats faster

Why should I my wo rds contro l 9

He’s the very pearl of men

He’s my life,my lord,my master !


A VENETIAN LOVER

NO man can know his strength,

Can feel the manhood sacred in his veins

Till he has known the deep religious fa ith

Of one true woman in his offered love ;

Till he has seen her set it like a gem

Upon her forehead,and in public ga ze

Full proudly wear it.

Message o f the rose,What wealth of ecstasy didst thou bestow !

So it be fell that ere the day was old

My love had answered hers,and we were met

In that Old Pantheon where sleep the men

Who once were dukes of Venice .

Thither came

In rustling robes the pacing Senators

To witness the entombment o f a Doge,

A VENETIAN LOVER

After that mighty po tentate had laid

His wand of Office in Death '

s bony hand.

With heavy stones they'

walled the warriors in,

The warri ors,the stately men who wed

With legendary ring the fruitful sea

The sea which once our conquering galle ys swept.

There sleeps a Loreda n,my ancestor.

There was his body from the palace borne

Followed by n oblemen in scarlet clad,

By mourning brethren from the faithful schools,With bann ers floating o’er them ;

magi strates,

Patricians,and the ruddy throng of those

Who wi n their food from the capricious wave .

Be side that tomb I met her,and we he ld

Our bre aths,and seemed to hear the so lemn bells

Of ancient Venice tolling as they to lled

When Loredan passed from the world Of sound

res


Into the world of silence.

There we stood

The mutual caresses of our gaze

Awoke a tremulous passion in our hearts

I think our lips had been most eloquent

Of kisses,had the sacred place not kept

Our love in awe ; b ut words were slow to come.

The perfume of her garments,and the pale

And wistful beauty of her sweetest face

Stirred up a lawless might within my veins

Some brief time after,and I might have pled

For hasty fl ight toge ther,for some rash

Romantic folly,later to repent

In dust and ashes but a great faith came,As sunshine sweeps resistless thro ' a mist

To cheer the fisher when he gropes at sea.

At last she spoke

Love,i f I meet thee here


A VENETIAN LOVER

Then she told

H ow quick disa ster with tumultuous swoop

Had gulfed her fathdr in the mire of woe .

His paper thousands in the crisping fl ame

Of some wild panic on the Golde n Coast

Had va nished ; he had risen a beggared man

That day at dawn ; had come to her and read

The cruel message flashe d across the se a,And curse d his lot and wrung his empty hands.

His prudent friend had warned h im — but in vain .

Once,when his fortune trembled in the surge

Where wrecks were plentiful,that friend had steered

His failing bark,and saved him .

But

To double wealth alre ady vast enough

To found a colony,or freight a fleet,

Had marred his judg me nt.

And the friend would come,

A VENETIAN LOVER r29

Glad with high plans for their de cl ining days,

To find his comrade stripped of all his gains

Save certain piteous hundreds— none too much

To hold them fre e from present misery.

So then the father,hot wi th gri ef and fear,

Anew had urged his daughter to accept

The ple dged betrothal had imposed his will,

Had wept and raged,and told her he must die

O’

ercome with shame,were not his pledge fulfilled ;

And we re he dead,his Spirit could not rest

Unle ss he knew her wedded to his friend.

Full timidly,yet with consummate grace

And mode sty,these things she said.

I kissed

H e r trembling hands,and bade he r take my love

My que stionless devotion,nor to bre ak

On e l ink in duty’s chain because o f me

Or my poor heart,which,to its latest throb,


Was hers— all he rs,nor e ve r would relax

Its loyalty.

The tears were in her eye s,

But a proud color tingled in her cheeks.

She murmured, Courage

Then a prating group

Of tourists entered, stole away.

I felt like o n e who melody

Melt in to silence.

And I left the place

Still - footed,lest perchance I might arouse

Some chiding ancestor to knit his brows,And in the name o f our old house,forbid

My farther brooding on this pain of love,This exquisite delirium o f love

And faith commingled.

Twas an idle thought ;

So I took gondo la,and seaward sped,


A VENETIAN LOVER

The old sa t in the Bucen taur

On great Ascension Day ;

And lightly the galley glided o’

er

The sunlit watery way ;

The brawny rowers bent and rose,

And made the long keel thrill

With their oar blade s’ quick and steady

O

A VENETIAN LOVER

Struck with united will.

Grey was the Doge and grand with age,As good men Often be ;

A saintly warrior an d sage

In cloak of cramoisie

And his pages twain held up h is train

As he went to wed the sea.

He mused on the pirates Nare n tin e

Whom Venice overcame ;

He gazed on the wave- engirdled line

Of towers tipped with flame.

The bishops sat on left and right

And blessed him with their smiles

O

A VENETIAN LOVER

And the bark with crimson all bedight,

Sped out beyond the isles .

Uprose the Doge with solemn grace

And sta te ly courte sy ;

A holy light was on his

He bent a reve rent knee °

Then he stooped to fl ing o 'er the side the

And to it the se a .

Now round about the galley swept,

And back to the Lido fl ew ;

Below blue waters foamed and crept ;

Above the sky was blue.

In Santo NicolO the mass



Meantime the gondola,w ith noi seless speed,Stole out across a shimmering lagoon,And paused upon the midmo st water,where

We seemed afloat in mighty lengths of sky.

My soul aro se and trembled on its wings,

Seeking return into that Infinite

Which n e’er had been apparent to my sense

As n ow.

All earthly passion fell away,

Ashamed and frightened at this quick approach

A VENETIAN LOVER

Of spiri tual presence.

From the world

I seemed remote ; and pa laces and me n,

Ambition and the appetite for fame,

Were like forgotten dre ams.

Great harmonies,

Oft vaguely heard when o’

er my blotted score

By n ight I labored,n ow were wondrous clear.

The spheres were moving to celestial tun e ;

The rhythmic grandeur overtopped my thought ;

I could n o t measure,but was merged in,it.

Oh joy of death,if thus it do th unlock

The noble secrets of the universe !

And so in spiritual swoon I lay,

The oarsman n ear me thoughtful on his perch,

Till suddenly there came a subtle light,

And out of it there flashed the lovely face,

The russet hair,the diamond at the throat,

A VENETIAN LOVER

The sweet low brow.


Ah ! not without thee,soul's twin,would I go

Were Paradise to open all its gates

I roused the gondolier,and homeward went,

And to my lips,like some o ld melody,

W ith soft enchantment in its slumbrous no tes,

Arose this little legend of true love .

It was a mild priest in a si lken gown,

In some chaste chamber o f the Vatican,

Who penned it first . A stately cardinal

Mouthed it full roundly in mv w illin g ear

One day when walking o n the Pincian hill

The sentiment was pretty,tho’

profane,

He thought ; and so he bade me write it down


x4c A VENETIAN LOVER

A pious scroll with holy verses writ.

The lady marveled and her brows she knit,

But nothin g of the Latin could she make,

Until one day love’

s hazard made her take

A ca reful scrutiny between each line,

And there she saw the friar’

s devotion shine.

Along the rich illumination ran

These words,hot from the heart of loving man

Oh Love my love is like a spri ng i ng fl ame

Oh Love God gra n t my love bri ng thee n o shame

Love let my love before th i n e hon or hn ee l

Love I let sweet love my hea rt’

ga i n st long i ng stee l

Love let my con sta n t soul n o tempter hn ow

Love pray forg ive me tha t I love thee so

Love ! I wi ll love thee ti ll the y ea rs a re don e

Love I wi ll love thee whe n,bey on d the sun,

A VENETIAN LOVER

Our sp iri ts a re qommi ng led i n the sweep

Of in disti ng uzkha ble wi nds wi ll keep

Thy memory holy,if thou diestfirstWi ll love thee a lway s,be thou blest or curst

As thou wert m i n e before the world

So I am th i n e — th i n e on ly,for the spa n

Of th is weak life,a n d for the time to be !

S lay me or ha te me,Love I must love thee !

14 1


And time crawls on

Ah when will it

And when ’tis dawn,how shall my soul

The glaring eye of that intruding day

Which shall unmask my sorrow !

Since we met

Beside that marble shrin'

e where Loredan

Li es mouldering in his monumental calm,


A VENETIAN LOVER

Athwart thy withered lips

There crawls a mockery of my despair.

Leave me,I pray thee.

What ! A letter ! Give !

H ow my hands tremble ! God ! It is from her.

What say’

st thou ! T wa s a masker in a cowl,

O’

e r merry wi th champagne,whose gondola

Over the bre eze - fl ushed water to our steps

Came hastily, who brought it !

Se e — the lights

Burn dimly. Open yondercaseme n t ! Air !

Forgive me,good Anina !

Thanks,thanks ! Go !

Alone,at last !

Sweet missive,hast thou brought

Life— life and love,or death— death and despair !

VENETIAN LOVER

H E R L E T T E R .

!H E READS.!

M ine own beloved one,my heart is hushed

And full of reverence which chastens bliss,And dims my gra teful eyes with sudden tears.

0 read with patience these few startled words,

Pen‘ned.nervously with han ds that scarce obey

IO

145


My eagerness to greet thee with great news.

Read,and give blessing to a soul that left

This morn our earth for far sublimer Spheres,And ere it fled the prison of our dull

Restrained human ity,made sacrifice

W ith glad devotion . Such a soul must shine

For ever in our tender memori es

As shines a bright sta r in some summer n ight,Whe n tropic perfumes load the heated air.

I toy with words ! Forgive me !

Let the glow

And moving rapture of thi s radiant hour

Bear all the blame .

At twelve the tryst was kept.

My father,petulant and an xious - eyed,

Half vexed the toiling gondolier who tapped

His light craft’s prow at Lady Lowkn ot’

s steps.

The palace portal was a blaze of lights ;



Bo rn of his gratitude .

I dared n ot look ;

Befo re me rose thy face,and seemed to plead

The lights dan ced,and my heart sank slowly

But then I took my life into my hands,

And with supreme appeal to thy dear face

To guide me and inspire my trembling lips,

1 did look up

'

,and saw my father’

s friend,

His form a trifle bent,h is silver beard

Rippling below his mask ; his knotted hands,

That oft had been so prodigal for us,

Clenched ner vously.

I knew him,tho' he wore

Thick flowing draperies,l ike a senator

Of Venice when she ruled an hundred coasts

So forward stept,and placed my hand in his,

Nor fretted at my father'

s last appeals,

Half like faint menace s.

A VENETIAN LOVER

And n ow he took,A bit confusedly,as one who treads

Fo r the first tiare an unfamiliar wood,

His way across the marbles,where the masks

Already balanced in the stately dance,

And held my hand as firmly as when once

Upon a Californian precipice

He led me safely through a blinding mist ;

And prese n tb' we stood within a niche

Where windows Opening on a balcony

Let in a hint and murmur o f the sea,

The sound of distant song,and plashing oars.

Here let us cast these silly baubles down,

He said,and doffed his mask. I did the same.

A tremor overran his massive frame,

149

ISO A VENETIAN LOVER

And o’er his furrowed cheeks an ashen grey

Stole slowly.

Then he said in broker;voice

Why,child,your eyes are misty as with te ars,

And there’

s a n ew romance upon your face,

And either ’tis your heart,or mine,that beats

Loud as a Chinese gong.

Come ! what’

s amiss !

I charge ye,tell me truly.

So he leaned

Against the ea seme n t,and upheld his mask

To hide his changing face.'Twas three hours since,

And yet it seems a century.

My love

Arose an d buoye d me on celestial wi'

irgs ;

My courage came,and so I told him a ll.

Ah,love,I blush to write it,but I pled


r52 VENETIAN LOVER

A pretty ba rcarole,so rhythmica l

Its melody seemed tinglin g in my veins.

My strength failed,and I sank upon a chair.

The knotted hands care ssed my paling brow

A mome nt ; then the grave vo ice gen tly said

Go,child,your way in joy and peace.

dream

Was but a dre am.

’

Twill vanish like a dream .

I love your fathe r,and I love his child

Too tende rly to wrest he r from her love .

Forget the idle project which had bound

Your body,not your Spirit.’

Twas a dre am,A go ld gleam in the mottled lump of quartz,

A vagrant thread of sunshine in the mine,

A VENETIAN LOVER

A glimpse of heaven thro’

the moving mists,A blossom in the canyon

’

s sullen depths,

A precious memory !

Sweet child,forget !

Those were his very words.

And next he kissed

My forehead,after which he raise d his hand

As i f in benediction .

I am faint,

He murmured All this heat and masquerade

Trouble my se nse s. Listen,ch ild seek out

Your father mid the dancers ; b id him here,

While I ca tch breath upon yon balcony.

I hear he has been mad among the stocks

Once more,but mayhap we may save him yet.

For all I have is his and freely given .

Go,da ughter

If I live an hundred years


Never shall I forge t those simple words

Embodying his final sacrifice.

0

When I returned,my father in my train

Anxious for import of the interview

We found the easeme n t open,and we heard

The maskers trolling still their barcarole.

Deep in the shadow on the b alcon v

Seated upon an ancient carven bench,

My father found our fri e n d,his white ned face

Serene and n oblv upturned to the sky.

He sleeps,we whi spered ; then a bitter cry

Rang through the night,and down my father fel l

Before his friend,and sobbe d and wept and moaned,

For ’twas not sle ep,but Death’Twas three hours sin ce,

And I am ca lmer n ow. 0

Ah,sweet my love,


r5 6 A VENETIAN LOVER

As out! I said when all the way was dark,And both our souls were faint

I love.my love

love love me tha t Time,n or Cha n ce,e’er un do us.

Love,I come.

VENETIAN LOVER

Why,so’tis and all the sky

’

s agleam,

And all my being thri lls with rapture ! Aye,

And so the old man’

s great soul went adri ft

Because his dream of love was but a dream !

’Tis sad and strange — the han d of Fate,

I hear

A footfall ! Is it hers 9 She comes— she comes !

A fairy form in rustling draperies

Is it indeed thyself,my love,my own

Oh joy to clasp thee in these faithful arms !

What ! Are these tears !


IS7


NOTICES OF TH E PRESS

me la n cho ly care e r of the un happy Max imi l ian,who was Empe rorof Me xico for a seaso n .

NEW ! ORK EVENING POST .

Mr. K in g writes poe try wi th vigo rous pass ion,rich imagin at io n,a nd a certa in simple sin ce rity wh ich is n o t common wi th the poe tsof our t ime! I t i s to be sa id i n his pra ise,a n d the pra ise is n ot

sma l l,tha t he who l ly e sca pe s the bl ight of fa n c i fuln e ss wh ichhas ove rtake n so man y mode rn poe ts. The re is n ot a trace,n ota touch,not a sugge st io n i n h is poems of art ifi cia l i ty,of me trica lor ve rba l tricks,o f in ge n iously devise d e ffe cts,or o fa ny a fl

'

ecta t ion .

H e i s n obly simple,ea rn e st,an d ho n e st ly fe rve n t . H is is the

poe t ry o f a stro n g man,move d to write by a poe t ic impulse too

sin ce re for frivo l it ie s a nd frippe rie s o f art. The thought,thepicture,the emo t ion,which he would pre se n t i s mo re to h im

than the me thod o f pre se n t in g it,a n d such de co ration as he give sto h is poems i s the spon tan e ous wo rk of a lovin g han d wh ichde co rates the thought for the thought ’s sake,n ot for the sake of

the de cora t ion . H e n owhe re fa l ls in to the pa ltry habit o f thet ime,

‘

which is to make the poe t ic con ce pt io n a so rt o f peg to hangfin e ve rba l c lo the s upon .


If we emphasize this n ega t ive side of our comme n dat ion,i t i sn ot be cause Mr. K in g’s poems a fl

'

ord n o occasion for mo re po si t ivepra ise,but be cause i n th is way we may most re adi ly makeappa re n t a fact o f the firstfin porta n ce . Be l ie ving as we do tha tthe frippe rie s a ndfin e c lo the s of mode rn poe try— the e xce ssiveatte n tio n to ve rba l and me trica l de ta i ls,the l i tt le a fl

'

ecta tion s of

a rt istic a t titude s,an d all the rest o f i t— are no t on ly hurtful,butpositive ly destruct ive of ge n uin e poe t ry,i t seems to us to be

our first duty to Mr. Kin g to emphasize h is un ifo rm avo idan ceo f such th in gs . In do in g so we say,mo re c le arly tha n by directasse rt ion,tha t h is poe try has the too ra re charms o f simpl ici ty,si nce ri tv a nd ma n ly fe rvour o f in spiration .

The first poem,ca l le d ‘The So rrow of Man ol,’

is a stran ge lyroma n t ic story,foun de d upo n a Rouma n ia n lege n d,of a n arch itec twho made a te rrible sacrifice of love to art,i n obe d ie n ce to the

de cre e o f a supe rn a l powe r. The secon d,ca l le d An Idy l Amo n gthe Rocks,

’

which is by Odds the be st of the poems,is a somewha te xte n ded story to ld i n te n brie f can tos of varyin g fo rm. It is byturn s fin e ly picture sque a n d fie rce ly passio n ate . Night i n the

He rze govin a ’ is a supe rb pie ce of de scriptive work.

It is a ma tte r of rejo ic in g whe n a youn g ma n write s poe tryo f this man ly,ge n uin e sort,i n a t ime whe n the poe t ic art is so

common ly made a ma tte r o f me re word - mo n ge rin g,whe n co n cep

t io n is tra in e d,an d expre ssio n is a thin g of tricks a nd me chan ica lde vice s . The se poems are l ike a bla st o f the fre sh,who lesomeoute r a ir i n a room fil le d wi th sti fl in g pe rfume s .

NOTICES OF THE PRESS

NEW ! ORK NATION .

Echoes from the Orie n t ’

owe a good dea l,doubt less,to the

roman t ic n a ture of the lege n ds they emba lm,but i t is to be n ot icedtha t they do much more than show a sympathe t ic apprec ia tion o f

the se— they de cora te an d dign ity,in care ful a nd n a tura l ve rse,the storie s and se n time n ts which they tre a t . An Idyl Amon gthe Rocks ’

has gre a te r me trica l varie ty,an d burn s with loca lpa trio t ism. Mr. K in g’s sympa th ie s wi th oppre sse d n a tion a l i ties areke e n,a n d on e of the be st poems i n h is vo lume is A Woman

’

s

Exe cut ion,Paris,

NEW ! ORK GRAPH IC.

The d ist in guishing characte rist ics of Mr . K ing’

s ve rsificationare i ts fre shn ess and s impl ic ity,and the utte r abse n ce about i t ofa nyth in g l ike force d e ffe cts,or an a ttempt to make more of a

theme than i t n atural ly pre se n ts . If he e rrs at a ll i n this direct ioni t is i n be in g too studie d an d re stra in e d,i n dec l in in g to make use

of the le gi timate orn ame n ta t ion wh ich poe try is usua lly thoughtto dema n d . Th is,howeve r,far from we ake n ing the e ffect of h is



love so n n e ts, few a nd re se rved as they are,dese rve a placebe s ide the famous son n e ts from the Portugue se,an d show qui tea n o the r ve i n of ge n ius.

LONDON ACADEM ! .

Mr. K in g is an a rde n t admire r of the subje ct populatio n s of theBa lka n Pe n in sula,a n d h is Echoe s from the Orie n t ’ are prin cipa llydevo te d to e ulogie s o f the ir vi rtue s an d pictures of the i r l ife .

‘

An Idy l Amon g the Rocks ’

has some n arra tive me ri t . The

misce l lan e ous poems,howe ve r,se em to us to re ach a h ighe rpoe t ica l le ve l,wh ich is,pe rhaps,surprisin g. The first,some ve rse so n a Pétro le use,owe s Mr. Brown in g roya lty,but is ve ry fa ir ;B irds tha t Fl it by Oce an ’s Rim,

’

a short so n g,has some of the

simpl icity and sugge st ive ri e ss of thought,the m iss in g o f which i sthe fault o f mode rn so n g - wri t in g.

TH E SCOTSMAN .

In Echoe s from the Orie n t,’ Mr. Edward K i n g give s us word

picture s o f the sce n e ry of Europe an Turkov,a n d of i ts subje ctrace s,exh ibit in g a ke e n faculty of obse rva tion,a nd a true po e t’s


appre ciation of the roma n t ic an d the beautiful . In spirite d an d

grace ful ve rse he re cite s Se rvian a nd Rouman ian lege n ds.

The re is origin a l i ty i n most o f his theme s,a nd fre shn e ss and

fe e l in g i n his tre a tme n t of them.

PALL MALL GA! ETTE .

To turn to the works o f Mr. K i n g,is to e n te r a n ew worldand to bre a th a n ew a tmosphe re . Mr. Kin g’s turn of min d is a t

on ce be l l icose a nd roman t ic ; he doe s h is be st to write l ike a

warrior a nd poe t. H is ta lk is of Bosn ian ma ids a nd gipsie s,dwe l l ing a ll n ight i n re ve rie o n the Rouma n ian pla in ; of pa trio t icbriga n ds a nd se n t ime n ta l Tziga n e s ; o f n oble mo n ks an d he ro iccommuua rdes ; and Moslem tyra n ts’ rocky de n s. Occa sion a l ly he isa l i t t le absurd,occasiona l ly a l i t t le dul l usua l ly his ve rse is spiri tedand e a rn est,a nd he is qui te re adable . In ‘Prin ce Laza rus ’

an d

‘The So rrows' o f Man ol,’

h is humo r is n a rra t ive ; he te lls n o t

i ll a couple o f popular lege n ds. In‘The Fa ir Bosn ia n,

’

i n‘

An

Idyl Amo n g the Rocks,’

i n‘No l No !

’

a nd i n ‘Ho la ! Ho la !Gossip Min e,

’

he e ssays to be dramat ic . !

LONDON SUNDA! FIGARO .

Echoes from the Orie n t ’ are a sma l l co l le ct ion of rea l lygrace ful poems de a l in g w ith Easte rn subje cts. The i r me trica l


techn ique is ve ry pe rfe ct,and they are in stin ct w ithfin e se n sibi l i tyan d culture,especia l ly tha t fo rm o f cul ture which re sults fromwide obse rvan t trave l . In the se days of poe t ic man n e rism and

afl'

e cta tion,i t is re fre sh in g to come across simple strong ve rsel ike Mr. K ing’s. The re i s n o stra in,n o bombast,n o pe ttypre tt in e ss o f e xpre ssion about i t. Some of the be st work inthe vo lume is in cluded amo n g the misce l lan eous poems at the

e nd. The re is a ring of Bre t Ha rte i n the poem ca l le d ‘AWoman

’

s Execut ion,’

but,as a rule,Mr. K in g is quite origin a l i hmann e r a n d ide a .

!

NEW ! ORK INDEPENDENT .

Wha teve r the occas io n that in cite d a poe t ic spi rit,we wi l lbe than kful tha t his muse was somehow se t o nfire . H e certa in lyfrom the start exce ls i n simple,art less style,i n the fe rve n te xpre ssion of the hea rt’s warme st fee l in gs,an d i n pa in t in g the

cha rms of Na ture on the borde rs of Classic - land. H is l in e s are

free from the a rts of o lde r poe ts,h is la n guage un affe cte d,a nd

h is story,so simple and d irect that we read wi th rapid ity,ourin te rest eve r in creasin g to the e nd.

!


IO NOTICES OF TH E PRESS

those shorts po ems whe re in he embod ies n at io n a l aspira tio n,a passion a te lon gin g,or a patrio tic se n time n t . H e has the ra refaculty o f a ttun i n g h i s lyre to e ve ry mood,of throw in g h ispe rso n a l ity in to the cre a ture o f the mome n t,a nd makin g th e

se n time n ts o f a n othe r his own . Swe e t The ssa ly,’

suppose d to besun g by a n a t ive Gre e k,wi l l in dica te the cha rm an d vigor o f

Mr. Kin g’s ve rse . The ra n ge of the author’s powe rs is shownby the ste rn gra n deur o f N ight i n the He rzegovin a,’ the passio nlEtde n rhythm o f ‘ The Ba l lad o f M i l- am t ! i n the pla in tive be autyo f

‘Guzla,’

and the rough jo l l ity o f‘The Dan ubia n G ipsy’s Son g.

’

Mr. K in g’s poe try,wha teve r i ts ra n k,is a t le ast ge n uin e,an d farremove d from the work o f the me re ve rsifie r.

BOSTON JOURNAL .

The re are i n Echoe s from the Orie n t a stre n gth and dire ct

n e ss,a fre e dom from imitat io n an d man n e rism,an d a me asure of

se lf- restra in t which are qu ite un commo n i n a first book of ve rse .

Poe ts o f the day have adopted the fashio n o f o rn ame n t in gthe i r ve rse un ti l l i ttle be side s orn ame n t is appare n t. They de l ightto try the ir ski l l i n da in ty a n d difficult me asure s,a n d co n ce n tra tethe ir e n e rgie s upo n fo rm w ith such e xce l le n t succe ss tha t they

frequen tly omit the thoughts . To re ade rs who are we ary o f simple


pre tt in e ss,who have be e n sun g to and p ngleda t w ith a ll so rts oftricksy me asure s,i t brin gs re lie f to re ad poems l ike those o f Mr.King, i n wh ich fo rm— though n o t at all un he eded— is mades e co n da ry to thought .!

TH E SPRINGFIELD REPUBLICAN .

The first of the‘Echoe s from the Orie n t ’ is a me lan cho ly

le ge n d of Rouma n ia,e n t itle d The Sorrow of Man ol.’

The

lege n d must be rega rde d as an a l le gory o f the supremacy of e te rn a la rt to human affection,a nd i n th is l ight Mr. K ing

’s poemtake s i ts

place as a stron g,unwave rin g n arra t ive,susta in e d at a pitch o f h ighsimpl ic ity,a nd culmin a tin g w ith un stra in e d e ffe ct . In the courseof the sto ry the re are passages of e xquisi te te n de rn ess,such as pa rtof Ma n ol

’

s appea l to the prin ceThe se con d ’poem is o f a l ighte r a nd more we lcome sort it is

An Idy l Amo n g the Rocks.’ It is a happy mixture of pure Gree kse n t ime n t and huma n love .

The characte rist ics o f Mr. K in g’s ve rse are a se n se of the poe ticqua l ity,a love of be auty,a sin ce rity o f se n t ime n t,and a re stra i n tof e xpre ssion . He has n o tricks,n o pre te n ce s,n o a fl

'

ectation s. H e

lacks a n afflue n ce of lan guage ; the re is a lagga rd a ir about h iswo rk at t imes ; he does n ot mo ra l ize,he doe s n ot e labo rate or

1 2

I2 NOTICES OF TH E PRESS

adorn,he do es n ot show an y ambitio n for the fa n tast ic,the curious,the ma larious,or the un clea n,wh ich are the fa sh io n n owadays.

H e te l ls his poe t ic ta le s w ith the s implest d ire ctn ess,but w i th afin eand true se n se of the ir in trin sic powe r a nd o f the e ssent ia l qua l ityo f emo t ion .

!

SCRIBNER’

S MONTH L! .

The Orie n t o f Mr. K ing’s vo lume is tha t bloody de ba te able

borde r- lan d be twe e n the force s o f the Cre sce n t and the Cross.This groun d was tre n che d upo n by S ir John Bowrin g o the rshave cast the ir eye s n po n it from time to time ; but,so far as webe l ie ve,Mr. K in g is the first En gl ish -writ in g poe t who has se t to

work se riously to prese rve i ts e choe s i n ve rse,a nd who has fittedhimse lf to do so by journ e yin g through the region he de scribe s.

Twe n ty of the th i rty - on e poems o f wh ich his vo lume is compose dare de vo ted to them ; the lon ge st,

‘The So rrow o f Ma nol,

’ be in gba sed on a Rouma n ia n le ge n d,wh i le the rema in de r are attempts,mo re o r le ss successful,to embody the cha racte ristic fe a ture s a t

i ts lan dscape s,a nd the l ife of i ts pe ople s,the i r joys a n d so rrows,‘ fie rce wars a nd fa ithful love s i n a word,the e leme n ts of the irn a t io n a l characte r as i t is re fl e cte d i n the ir po pula r fo lk - son gs. H e

has be e n struck by what he has se e n,an d has produced it with a


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A VENETIAN LOVER Ye voices wanderin g forlorn in space, Swee t echoes from celestial sweep of orbs...

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