002. The Ritualist
[My first ever exercise in Blank Verse at a time when I was hardly aware of
the poetic techniques. 'A bit long!', said by Tutor, but he admired those
two 'poetic touches'.--Verseworth]
'O my King, O Magnus, where art thou?', quoth he,
'What is this place? where is my couch? O, waves,
Cold waves have washed me ashore! my yacht? my friends?'
He rose and said, 'my Lord! but none but me,
005 Thou'st saved! what is this play? how canst I live
In this abandoned isle? how could I swim
The long way back?' He looked around and walked.
The waves with silver surf dazzling in the sun,
The shining morning sun, embraced his legs.
010 He hated them and staggered on to take
Refuge beneath the trees. The larks and birds
That sailed across the dewy drops of pearl
Of morning clouds and beaded grass beneath
Welcomed the stranger new. But on he went
015 And sat upon a rock. To quench the fire
That burnt his paunch he ate the food he had
And drank some wine to fire his senses.
The monkeys ran along the arms of trees;
The squirrels chased one another to get
020 The nuts and creaked as they gnawed; behind
The rustling leaves the rats did shriek, or from
Their crevice in the earth did peer about;
The gentle breeze that blew across the land
Took the gentler grass-tops as it went on;
025 The birds and rustling leaves did cheer the ants
That stumbled in the wind; the snowy starks
With crimson bills and lean legs waited still
Ashore to catch their prey; the brawling brook
That flowed around the mountain-foot did float
030 Many a silver boat--the swans and ducks;
Athwart the bushes crept the silent snake.
But all such creatures fairy-like, never
Amused the fool, a Ritualist to boot.
'Is there no man throughout this island small?'...
035 Glassy tear-drops descended from his eyes.
His voice along the ether vanished away.
The gulls as though they heard the trembling voice,
Flitted above his head and spoke to him
In meagre notes which he could never read.
040 'Gulls, mere gulls', he heaved: 'are there peacocks,
whose tail with velvet spots spread out could save'
My reason dumb?' Meanwhile, a herd of horses,
Huge in size, along the grassy wold troted,
And began to browse. His weary eyes at once
045 Were lighted up, but soon the fire did swoon.
With showering eyes he sobbed, 'O royal steeds!
Roaming with bare and rugged backs? barbarous beasts!
Where art thine tinsel trappings that thou wear
In flowering files? O Nakedness! why do
050 Men call thee Nature great and fair? I do
Here find a rough and barbarous earth where all
The things are beating in the void!'
At once a spark of wit entranced his mind;
With eyes that opened wide he glanced at them
055 And spoke: 'O gentle steeds! so gentle in
This manless isle? And so behave the rest!
Then there should be man in this island'...
He walked across the wolds; the sun was up
A little more and now it had begun
060 To suck the dewy drops as weasel sucks
The eggs of birds. The mountain far away
Began to rise up slowly when the snow
Around't was sucked. And thus the hill renewed
Itslf with glittering green attire around.
065 And through the green the roaring fall of water
Descended. It looked like a chain
Of beaten silver round the neck of Oread.
The horses looked at him and neighed a little;
The sparrows twittered seeing him; the hare
070 That came along his way jumped up sideways
To seek another way. He walked and walked until
He came upon the brook around the hill.
With lifeless eyes he looked at the storks and said,
'O dumb, tall, birds! feel hungry still? the fish
075 Are too cunning for thee. So for me
Is this little isle devoid of man; no man
But I do walk along the lonely paths.
Nothing is wild and merciless here. But alas!
Who could play cards or even speak to me?
080 Devoid of these I cannot live at all.
From birds unto beasts are joyful here. But I?'...
The sun was seeking abode in the western sky.
What a fine iridescence it had wrought among the clouds!
The crimson fall of eve did fall around
085 The surging sea beneath; the waves arose
And kissed the clouds above; at once they blushed!
And then the waves did slowly drag the sun
Caught in the cloudy nets. At this the Royalist said:
'Poor, wounded clouds! how could you face the sun,
090 The triumphant sun! and now the sun hath taken
Thee captives to its wester abode in the sea.
Our King, too, is a sun in battle fields.
But now I am no more at home to view
Those splendid royal games. I was behind
095 Those actual scenes and heard the solemn organs
And brassy bands and watched their ghastly sports.
But now, all these are lost and void, mere void,
Hath captured me. I hate this dead and deaf
And dumb and blind and lonely island small!'...
100 Thus he spent three lonely weeks in that
Unconquered land; the dawns and dusks and birds
And beasts and plants--the lingering miracle
Of life, ever afresh, did slowly kill
His brain and frame. And when the Royal Help
105 Came, they found him mad and sad, dying
Of solitude and none could save the wretch!
--Verseworth, Jan 2, 1970
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