Pub. CW, XXIV, 58-62.
THE LONG LAND
Scene: A place that no one knows.
Enter (in the dust) the Devil. He says:
AHA! my dreamer comes through the dust,
His long cloak weighing him down I trust,
I know the heart of this fellow so well,
Soft; he shall think he is in Hell.
THE DREAMER
O misery! utter misery!
I walk and walk, and still to see
The clouds of dust roll over and flee
Before the wind that sweeps by me,
The hot east wind of summer-time;
With such good thoughts as the Devil sends;
For he is a master good, and blends
In a dim grim way, the faces of friends,
Of Mother, Old Land and Love; and lends
Me a long hot land that never ends
And dust clouds that are sun-dried slime.
THE DEVIL
Aha! what think you of shady places?
Lime-shadowed founts, and blended feces,
That start at the splash of the spray of them?
What think you too of the sweeping hem
Of the delicate raiment, soft blue-grey?
Is not the Long Land better than they?
THE DREAMER
*A dim voice comes from the heart of the dust
A muttering growl I scarcely trust,Growling of fire and murder and lust.
Why should I weep who am fast in Hell?
And the folds of my cloak are blown over me
[59] Purple and long; I was wont you seeTo admire it much in the days that be
Faint and far-off, and she, ay she
Often pressed it with dainty knee,
As she bent to the wicked head of me
Her good pure lips I loved so well.
THE DEVIL
O my sweet friend, who were wont to say,
That all men went the self-same way,
Whether they went to it straight like you,
Or by round-about, struggling, puffed and blue;
Till they came to the gate, the spiked gate,
Spiked with the death-darts long and straight:
Tell me I pray if any you see
Who fought in the world like men with me.
THE DREAMER
A dim voice comes from the heart of the dust,
A snarling sneer I dare not trust—
Worse things in the world than murder and lust?
Ah! once I used to pray.
There was a place too down in the west,
Of all the land she loved it best,
Twixt sea-gulls' hall and thrushes' nest
How sweet it were, O Love, to rest!—
Alas! all gone away.
THE DEVIL
Yes you were always talking of that—
God's work was it to lie and get fat,
While the others were sweating their brown hides,
Wearily toiling each day that glides,
Wearily earning rank fat and crust,
Dismally drinking, set down in the dust,
Nothing to think of but daily bread:
What does it matter when all are dead?
[60]THE DREAMER
A strange voice out of the heart of the dustHissing out lies; I have a faint trustIn the power of Love, O Devil, not lust:
I could almost pray at last.
—Yea she said, for a while to restWith languid hands, looking into the west,Sitting down as a bidden guestAt the feast of the sun; for a while 'twere best
And how long has that passed.
MARGARET (in the likeness of an angel)
Let me hold his head, O Lord,
Let me smooth his cheek,
For he bears a notched sword
Though his will was weak.
You shall see how he will lie
(O! poor forehead, wrinkled now)
On my breast, how quietly
I will breathe upon his brow.
With the whisper of my wings
I will tell him tales of old,
I will show him quiet things
Meet for eyen to behold.
Nay dear Lord, but see him hold
Both his wasted arms to me;
The earth raiment fold on fold
Clogs him, driven round his knee.
Therefore, dear Lord, let him lie,
Wearied head, upon my breast,
Its faint yellow drapery
Sweetly scented give him rest,
[61]While I sing and ever sing
Gentle songs he knew of old
And make pictures in my wing
Sweet for eyen to behold.
Till his face grow soft and mild
And the deep lines fade away,
And he look like any child
Sleeping after noisy play.
Dear Lord, what a child he is!
He seems never meant to meet
The world's scorn and cruel hiss,
All the struggle down the street.
Lord, the eyes within my wings,
I can feel their colours play
With their struggle for these things,
They so long to be away.
THE DREAMER
Some one surely draweth near—
O! my angel cometh dear,
Is God ready, will he hear?
MARGARET
Nay, speak out and do not fear.
THE DREAMER
Lord thou knowest, none so well
All that 1 have got to tell,
Little enough too, this in short
That I fought and ever fought,
Many things I overthrew,
So I smiled although I knew
What would come to me at last.I used to pray it might be past
[62]All that doubtful victoryWith the sick smile of the eyeAnd the sense of failing nigh.It will be good, 1 thought, to knowAll the worst that must be so.*
. . . . . . .
Like a low moon on a cloudy night?
And tell me, am I saved or not;
Sins grow dim and are forgot,
And tell me plainly where is this
This strange long land—Ah Christ! a kiss—
—So now at last I am in bliss.
In Paradise.
MARGARET (in her proper person）
You loved green, dear, down below
On the earth; so let us go
To a deep green place I know.
Is this green place enough for thee?
We will sit beneath a tree
And think how happy we shall be.
THE DREAMER
Whisper to me, Margaret
For my ears are dull, forget
Noisy things, aye closer yet.
Tell me all you came to know,
All you found out long ago,
Yes, with hands together so.*
A page of the manuscript missing.
|
B. L. MS. 74,255
The Long Land
Scene, a place that no one knows
Enter (in the dust) the Devil – says
Aha! My dreamer comes through the dust,
His long cloak weighing him down I trust,
I know the heart of this fellow so well,
Soft, he shall think he is in Hell.
(The Dreamer) O misery! Utter misery!
To walk & walk and still to see
The clouds of dust roll over and flee
Before the wind that sweeps by me
The hot east wind of the summer-time;
With such good thoughts as the Devil sends;
For he is a master good, and blends
In a dim grim way, the faces of friends,
Of mother, Old Land and Love, and lends
Me a long hot land that never ends,
And dust-clouds that are sun-dried slime.
(The Devil) Aha! What think you of shady places?
Lime-shadowed founts and beaded faces,
That start at the splash of the spray of them?
What think you too of the sweeping hem
Of the delicate raiment, soft blue-grey?
Is not the Long Land better than they?
(The Dreamer) A dim voice comes from the heart of the dust
A muttering growl I scarcely trust
Growling of fire and murder and lust.
Why should I weep who am fast in Hell?
And the folds of my cloak are blown over me
Purple and long, I was wont you see
To admire it much in the days that be
Faint and far-off, and she, ay she
Often pressed it with dainty knee,
As she bent to the wicked head of me
Her good pure lips I loved so well.
(The Devil) O my sweet friend, who were wont to say,
That all men went the self-same way,
Whether they went to it straight like you,
Or by round-about struggling puffed & blue,
Till they came to the gate, the spiked gate,
Spiked with the death-darts long & straight,
Tell me I pray if any you see
Who fought in the world with men like me.
(The Dreamer) A dim voice comes from the heart of the dust,
A snarling sneer I dare not trust
Worse things in the world than murder and lust? Ah! Once I used to pray
There was a place too down in the west,
Of all the land she loved it best
‘Bout sea-gulls hall, and thrushed nest
How sweet it were. O love, to rest’ –
Alas all gone away.
(The Devil) Yes, you were always talking of that –
God’s work, was it, to lie and get fat,
While the others were sweating their brown hides,
Wearily toiling each day that glides,
Wearily earning rank fat & crust
Dismally drinking, set down in the dust,
Nothing to think of but daily bread,
What does it matter when all are dead.
(The Dreamer) A strange voice out of the heart of the dust,
Hissing out lies; I have a faint trust
In the power of love, O Devil, not lust;
I could almost pray at last.
Yea she said for a while to rest
With languid hands, looking into the west
Sitting down as a bidden guest
At the feast of the sun; for a while t’were best
And how long has that past.
(Margaret in the likeness of an angel)
Let me hold his head, O Lord,
Let me smooth his cheek
For he bears a notched sword
Though his will was weak.
You shall see how he will lie,
(O! Poor forehead, wrinkled now),
On my breast how quietly!
I will breathe upon his brow.
With the whisper of my wings
I will tell him tales of old,
I will show him quiet things
Meet for even to behold
Nay dear Lord, but see him hold
Both his wasted arms to me
The earth raiment, fold on fold
Clap him driven round his knee.
Therefore dear Lord, let him lie,
Wearied head, upon my breast
Its faint yellow drapery
Sweetly scented give him rest
While I sing and ever sing
Gentle songs he knew of old
And make pictures in my long
Sweet for even to behold
Till his face grow soft & mild
And the deep lines fade away
And he look like any child
Sleeping after noisy play
Dear Lord, what a child he is!
He seemed never meant to meet <
The world’s scorn and cruel kiss,
All the struggle down the street.
Lord, the eyes within my wings,
I can feel their colours play
With their struggle for these things,
They so long to be away.
(The Dreamer) Someone surely draweth near
O! My angel cometh dear
Is God ready, will he hear?
(Margaret) Nay, speak out and do not fear.
(The Dreamer) Lord thou knowest, none so well
All that I have got to tell,
Little enough too, this in short
That I fought and ever fought
Many things I overthrew
So I smiled, although I knew
What would come to me at last
I used to pray it might be past
All that doubtful victory
With the sick smile of the eye
And the sense of falling nigh.
It will be good I thought, to know
All the worst that must be so.
Like a low moon on a cloudy night?
And tell me, and I saved or not
Sins grow dim and are forgot
And tell me plainly where is this
This strange long land – Ah! Christ, a kiss
– So now at last I am in bliss.
In Paradise
(Margaret in her proper person)
You loved green, dear, down below
On the earth; so let us go
To a deep green place I know
Is this green enough for thee?
We will sit beeath a tree
And think how happy we shall be
(The Dreamer) Whisper to me Margaret
For my ears are dull, forget
Noisy things, aye closer yet
Tell me all you came to know
All you found out long ago
Yes with hands together so
Ho is there any will ride with me
Sir Giles & C
The click of a cross is good to hear
The flap of [ ] fair to see
The leopards and lilies are fair to see
St George Geneieve good to hear
I stood by the barrier
My coat being blazoned fair to see
Clisson put out his head to see
Lifted his [ ] to hear
I pulled him through the bars to see
[ ] [ ] is good to hear
And the [ ] of men right fair to see.
|