A Lover's Litanies - Second Litany. Vox Amors.[1]

i.     Vouchsafe, my Lady! by the passion-flower,         And by the glamour of a moonlit hour,     And by the cries and sighs of all the birds     That sing o'nights, to heed again the words     Of my poor pleading! For I swear to thee     My love is deeper than the bounding sea,         And more conclusive than a wedding-bell,     And freer-voiced than winds upon the lea.     [Footnote 1: This Litany was introduced in the Author's "Gladys the Singer," published by Messrs. Reeves & Turner, London, 1887.]     ii.     In all the world, from east unto the west,         There is no vantage-ground, and little rest,     And no content for me from dawn to dark,     From set of sun to song-time of the lark,     And yet, withal, there is no man alive     Who for a goodly cause to make it thrive,         Would do such deeds as I would gird me to     Could I but win the pearl for which I dive.     iii.     It is thy love which, downward in the deep         Of far-off visions, I behold in sleep,--     It is thy pearl of love which in the night     Doth tempt my soul to hopes I dare not write,--     It is this gem for which, had I a crown,     I'd barter peace and pomp, and ermined gown;         It is thy troth, thou paragon of maids!     For which I'd sell the joys of all renown.     iv.     I would attack a panther in its den         To do thee service as thy man of men,     Or front the Fates, or, like a ghoul, confer     With staring ghosts outside a sepulchre.     I would forego a limb to give thee life,     Or yield my soul itself in any strife,         In any coil of doubt, in any spot     When Death and Danger meet as man and wife.     v.     It is my solace, all my nights and days,         To pray for thee and dote on thee always,     And evermore to count myself a king     Because I earn'd thy favour in the spring.     Oh, smile on me and call me to thy side,     And I will kneel to thee, as to a bride,         And yet adore thee as a saint in Heaven     By God ordained, by good men glorified!     vi.     I will acquaint thee with mine inmost thought         And teach thee all I know, though unbesought,     And make thee prouder of a poet's dream     Than wealthy men are proud of what they seem.     If thou have trust therein, if thou require     Service of me, or song, or penance dire,         I will obey thee as thy belted knight,     Or die to satisfy thy heart's desire.     vii.     Ah! thou hast that in store which none can give,         None but thyself, and I am fain to live     To watch the outcome of so fair a gift,--     To see the bright good morrow loom and lift,     And know that thou,--unpeer'd beneath the moon,--     Untamed of men,--untutor'd to the tune         Of lip with lip,--wilt cease thy coy disdain     And learn the languors of the loves of June.     viii.     All that I am, and all I hope to be,         Is thine till death; and though I die for thee     Each day I live; and though I throb and thrill     At thoughts that seem to burn me, and to chill,     In my dark hours, I revel in the same;     Yet I am free of hope, as thou of blame,         And all around me, wakeful and in sleep,     I weave a blessing for thy soul to claim.     ix.     Oh, by thy radiant hair and by the glow         Of thy full eyes,--and by thy breast of snow,--     And by the buds thereof that have the flush     Of infant roses when they strive to blush,--     And by thy voice, melodious as a bell     That rings for prayer in God's high citadel,--         By all these things, and more than I can urge,     I charge thee, Sweet! to let me out of hell!     x.     Is it not Hell to live so far away         And not to touch thee,--not by night or day     To be partaker of one smile of thine,     Or one commingling of thy breath and mine,     Or one encounter of thine amorous mouth?     I dwell apart from thee, as north from south,         As east from western ways I dwell apart,     And taste the tears that quench not any drouth.     xi.     Why wouldst thou take the memory of a wrong         To be thy shadow all the summer long,     A thing to chide thee at the dead of night,     A thing to wake thee with the morning light     For self-upbraiding, while the wanton bird     Invests the welkin? Ah, by joy deferr'd,         By peace withheld from me,--do thou relent     And dower my life to-day with one love-word!     xii.     Wouldst thou, Cassandra-wise, oppress my soul         With more unrest, and Heb-like, the bowl     Of festal comfort for a moment raise     To my poor lips, and then avert thy gaze?     Wouldst make me mad beyond the daily curse     Of thy displeasure, and in wrath disperse         That halcyon draught, that nectar of the mind,     Which is the theme I yearn to in my verse?     xiii.     Oh, by thy pity when so slight a thing         As some small bird is wounded in the wing,     Avert thy scorn, and grant me, from afar,     At least the right to love thee as a star,--     The right to turn to thee, the right to bow     To thy pure name and evermore, as now,         To own thy thraldom and to sing thereon,     In proud allegiance to mine earliest vow.     xiv.     It were abuse of power to frown again         When, all day long, I gloat upon the pain     Of pent-up hope, my joy and my distress,--     While the remembrance of a mute caress     Given to a rose,--a rose I pluck'd for thee,--     Seems as the withering of the world to me,         Because I am unlov'd of thee to-day     And undesired as sea-weeds in the sea.     xv.     I'll not believe that eyes so bright as thine         Were meant for malice in the summer-shine,     Or that a glance thereof, though changed to fire,     Could injure one whose spirit, like a lyre,     Has throbb'd to music of remember'd joys,--     The pride thereof, and all the tender poise         Of trust with trust,--the symphonies of grief     Made all mine own,--and Faith which never cloys.     xvi.     How can it be that one so fair as thou         Should wear contention on a whiter brow     Than May-day Dian's in her hunting gear?     I'll not believe that eyes so holy-clear     And mouth so constant to its morning prayer     Could mock the mischief of a man's despair         And all the misery of a moment's hope     Seen far away, as mists are seen in air.     xvii.     How can a woman's heart be made of stone         And she not know it? Mine is overthrown.     I have no heart to-day, no perfect one,     Only a thing that sighs at set of sun     And beats its cage, as if the thrall thereof     Were freedom's prison or the tomb of love;         As if, God help me! there were shame in truth     And no salvation left in realms above.     xviii.     I once could laugh, I once was deem'd a man         Fit for the frenzies of the dead god Pan,     And now, by Heaven! the birds that sing so well     Move me to tears; and all the leafy dell,     And all the sun-down glories of the West,     And all the moorland which the moon has blest,         Make me a dreamer, aye! a coward, too,     In all the weird expanse of mine unrest.     xix.     It is my curse to see thee and to learn         That I must shun thee, though I blaze and burn     With all this longing, all this fierce delight     Fear-fraught and famish'd for a suitor's right;     A right conceded for a moment's space     And then withdrawn as, amorous face to face,         I dared to clasp thee and to urge a troth     Too sovereign-sweet for one of Adam's race.     xx.     I am a doom-entangled mirthless soul,         Without the power to rid me of the dole     Which, day by day, and nightly evermore     Corrodes my peace! Oh, smile, as once before,     At each wild thought and each discarded plea,     And let thy sentence, let thy suffrance be         That I be reckon'd till the day I die     The sad-eyed Singer of thy fame and thee!