B. L. Add. Ms. 45,298A, ff. 37v-40.
[f. 37v] Fame
Why weepeth he? Why weepeth he?
Above whose head the beech boughs be,
Past whom doth whizz the humble-bee.
Why weeps he so? Why weeps he so[,]
Past whom the pleasant stream doth go
And, as it goeth, singeth low.
He lieth on a little mound,
His head is lying on the ground,
He clutcheth at the grass around[.]
Alack! He weepeth evermore
For faces he may see no more,
He weepeth for his lonely door,
Whereto their feet will never come,
Through which will never sound the hum
Of loving friends; O! they are dumb.
The years have passed by his love,
He prayeth yet to God above;
Unloving prayer will never move
The loving one who lives on high
Who, on the cross against the sky,
Showed such love when he did die.
And yet his dread prayers answered were
That from his great heart he might tear
The love, that beat through everywhere;
Though all his life, his pulses strong
[f. 38] Through which the fierce blood leapt along,
His lovely voice, where long, and long,
The sweet notes after he did speak
Did roll about the heart, and breath[e]
In joyous showers bringing ache,
They were so sweet they brought a pain
About the heart, about the brain,
Then came the sweetness back again.
O! love was round him like a sea;
The love of all fair things that be.
The love of every beauteous tree;
The love of birds that skim along,
The love of ringing olden song,
The love of churches, where the long,
Long sunbeam striketh down the nave,
Upon the place where banners wave,
Upon the ancient warrior’s grave;
The love of men that never die,
In many lands their bodies lie,
Their music, and their truth are nigh.
The love of those that come and go
About him, O! they loved him so,
And he loved them—but long ago.
The love of one whose eyes were deep
And through her eyes the thoughts did sweep,
Her smile would almost make you weep;
[38v] So much her eyes held sympathy
With all the sad, sad things that be
In loving, loved, humanity.
Solemn the mountains are, and vast,
A crown of clouds about them cast.
Yea, here the clouds cling, they have past
From off the clear sky overhead
Which waiteth, trembling, for the red,
Which waiteth till the sun be dead.
For now the sun is very low,
No clouds across the zenith go,
The sun is dying, wind is low.
O me! the solemn East behind,
The moon is coming up the wind,
The light, calm, westward-blowing wind.
The moon she goeth westernly[,]
The woods look up entrancedly[,]
In morning light the moon will die.
Ah! All things die, and come again,
Ah! All things, but the feet of men[,]
They die, and never come again.
Why weepeth he? Why weepeth he?
The bat goes round the beechen tree,
There is no sound of any bee.
Alack! He weepeth evermore
For love, that never cometh more,
He weepeth for his lonely door.
[f. 39] He weepeth for his lonely heart
That nevermore at love will start:
He weepeth for his fallen dart
He hoped to strike the sun withal,
Alas! the dart did earthward fall,
Alas! the shooter needeth pall.
"O! broken love, O! buried love[,]
The while the stars shine out above[,]
The while the sun shines, broken love!
"I know thou’lt never come again;
And yet I pray thee come again
O! holy Love[,] come back again[.]
"My breast is tightened with my woe[,]
The bitter thoughts so quickly flow
And upward, upward, ever go,
"Yet never leave me[,] flying up;
My brain is like a fiery cup
Where whoso drinketh death will sup.
"And yet I know my name is sung
Among the banners; it is rung
Among the nations; hearts have clung
"Around it, and it giveth birth
By its upspringing, to the worth
That else, were hidden in the Earth.
"The moon was shining long ago
[f. 39v.] As it shines on the beech-tree now[,]
The moonlight fell upon my brow.
"My brow was wrinkled in a frown,
While solemnly the moon looked down
Upon the many-spired town.
"My lips were closed about my teeth,
I scarcely dared to draw my breath,
I stood like one who waits for death[.]
"His voice was ringing in my ears
Upon my hand I felt her tears,
O! loving long-forgotten tears!
"I muttered low, ‘God needs me then,
I will go help yon brother men,
No single man I love again;
"`I will live loving God alone
Loving no one man, for the moan
That rises up in monotone;
"`And shrieks rise with it evermore,
And fiendish laughter; on the floor
Lie God[’]s own chosen, and His poor.
"`O! heart my love I will out-tear,
It maketh me a coward—there
It lyeth in the moonlight fair.
"`Twill be a glorious destiny,
Ah! truly they shall hear of me,
The narrow world shall ring with me.’
[f. 40] "I know her mound with cross above
Where flowers creep, and where, for love,
Among lime-blossoms moans the dove.
"I know his tomb adown the nave,
Where lyeth he with sheathed glaive[,]
Praying he lies above the grave.
"I know, as weeping here I lie[,]
How shadows pass her hillock by,
How on his tomb the colours die.
"O! Jesu Christ! By whom there stood
The many soldiers round the rood
O! Jesu! By the olive wood,
"I pray thee let love come again[,]
The love I spurned; O! I am fain
To weep, that love may come again[.]"
So weepeth he, so weepeth he
Beneath the boughs o’ the beechen tree[,]
So weepeth he—so dyeth he--
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