“ A Barb with a burning icicle tip’d, Torn from the frore beard of the Northern Star That stares on the shuddering pyramids Of crumbling Arctic ice. With his Arrow he smote her and cried, ‘Come not here! Not here will I bear thee. This is My world— The world of Death where Beauty dies, And I, I Death am god.’ She sobbing arose, and sobbing sank; And would have perish’d, but Love that way Fell like a flame, and supported her And warm’d her dying hands; And said to him, ‘Fool, the touch of thy barb Is poison that I can poison with Love ”
Sir Ronald Ross
Biographical details
Sir Ronald Ross published works such as Philosophies, Psychologies and Fables. These writings evoke Icelin, Theodora and Titania.
Quotes by Sir Ronald Ross
“ Aye, before this bleeding sword,As at an altar, let us kneel to Him.Theodora.Whose justice, smiting in your hand, laid lowMy children’s murderer! (They kneel before the sword, laid on the grass. The tempest pauses for a moment. The sun gleams on the sword.) My children’s murderer!From this dungeon’d world,Where death and madness fill the dark with shrieks,We thank Thee, uttermost God, for that Thy lightHath smitten one moment for us. From Thy throneThe lightning came; the bright exceeding flashCame down and smote him; the lightning of Thy wrathDevour’d him. ”
“ Thy mournful spirit vain,O Exile; but our sighs Suffice to prove the pain. To grow from much to more In knowledge, and to putA power to every power, A foot before a foot, Toward that goal of good That glimmers thro’ the nightAbove the time and mood, A star of constant light; At last to meet the dark, The goal not reach’d indeed,But full of hours and work, Are, Exile, not thy creed. And less to leap to catch The spinning spokes of change;In our brief life to snatch All aspects and to range Full-face with every view ”
“ Made mad with inner ire. III Who cries! The night is black As death and not as night;The world is fallen back To nothing; sound and light And moon and stars and skies, Thunder and lightning—allGone, gone! Not even cries The cricket in the hall, The dog without. At last The end of all the hours.Was that a Spirit pass’d Between the slamming doors? We slept not yet we wake! Was it a voice that cried,‘Awake, ye sleepless; wake, Ye deathless who have died’? No voice. No light, no sound. It was the fancy thatAt midnight makes rebound Of thoughts we labour at At mid-day. ”
“ You are the noblest woman in the world;But my poor love is such a thing to laugh at,You need not heed it. Now you are alone,I may indeed give up my life to youAnd be your servant. (The tempest pauses. Silence.) Theodora. And be your servant.Your sword is clean, you say,But look upon those startled flowers there,Those innocent flowers—what smearèd stains of deathWould make them seeming-guilty. What have they done?Not they have pierced a man’s heart, poor white things,That yet look unwasht murd’rers; while the swordGleams icy pure, like some fire-eyèd angelNew-born in Heaven. ”
“ For moments never lost Of each its higher aim, We live, we learn the wealth The joyous hours may bring,But jealous time by stealth Puts all of it to wing; Pursuing empty arts We gain no noble goal,And lose, in learning parts, The grandeur of the whole. If Patience, pouring tears— She cannot but lamentThe long unfruitful years Of exile, idly spent— Have patience, she will find They were not all in vain,But each has left behind A little store of gain— A wider wisdom bought With labour; problems solved ”
“ Dansberg. There is a pit there!Oh, He answers not!In my youth’s days I did forget Him; nowIn this mine age He hath forgotten me. (A pause.) Away! God or no God, I’ll save myself! (He runs forward wildly and falls into the pit.) (Silence.) Icelin. Down there. Down. Down. Mark now, I pushed him not.He ran from me and fell. You saw it. I knewThat he would die like this. You called me child.Am I so young then? I am no child—a woman! ”
“ Especially our duty at present is to better our present foothold; to investigate; to comprehend the forces of nature; to set our state rationally in order; to stamp down disease in body, mind, and government; to lighten the monstrous misery of our fellows, not by windy dogmas, but by calm science. The sufferings of the world are due to this, that we despise those plain earthly teachers, reason, work, and discipline. Lost in many speculations, we leave our house disordered, unkept, and dirty. ”
“ Oberon.The rushes in the stream she rings aglance,Like Indian maids, with anklets for the dance.Titania.And the new-budded trees, like laughing girls,Step forth from night, attirèd in her pearls.The Moon Come all creatures of delight,Beauty’s brightest in the night.I am Beauty, and I bearEmeralds in my amber hair,And a crystal gemmaryTo adorn earth, air, and sea.I am watching Wisdom too,For, while others dream, I do;Light the world to let men knowWhere’s the way for them to go.I am Love, for I beholdAll things ever and of old ”
“ Rakes up the crystals of dry Snow, And mourns for ever her work undone; And there for ever, like Titans blind Their countenance lifting to Heaven’s glow, The sightless Mountains yearn for the Sun. ”
“ And this the Saga says is why The Frog he always jumps so high; For, though the Star is very far, To reach it he must ever try, Until it’s time for him to die. As for the foolish Fay, ’tis wist, She wept herself into a mist, Which wanders where the Clouds are strewn About the deathbed of the Moon, When with wan lips, in sudden swoon (Because her unkind lord, the Sun, Will ever from her loveless run) , She cries amid her Starry Maids: ‘Ah me, alas, my beauty fades!’— And so sinks down into the Shades. [14] The Troll and the Mountain Dedicated to the Great ”
“ That high philosophy Shall ever counsel men To mend this mindless state In which, as in the East,We drift on floods of fate, As helpless as the beast, Then here the issue is— Look on this land and weep—A race as ruin’d as this, A misery as deep. II Seeing how pent we are Within our human ways,That save in ceaseless war We cannot spend our days, In struggle each with each To get a breathing space,While Heaven, out of reach, Looks on with scornful face ”
“ Was sick; for the World he sigh’d, His Mountains and his Forests wide; So true it is, not Jove’s right hand Is worth to us our Native Land, And that the Little we have not Can make the Much we have forgot. ”
“ Europe, A.D. 500. The World beheld them and adored—adored,And fear’d, and sought to slay them; forThe battle-brood of gods is battle-born.But they endured; nor in the thunder found Harm, or the bolt of death. And God look’d down and spake, and thro’ the EarthThe murmur ran, terranean like the shockWhen central earthquakes jar, until the DeepFoams tingling to the icèd poles ”
“ For me than for Vitellius. Let him reign!I will contend with him in battle no more;I will contend with him in nobleness.So let him then give Rome a Cæsar. IWill give her peace.Soldiers. Will give her peace.Cæsar, Otho, Cæsar!Young Soldier.Make way there, comrades; I’ve a word to move him. (He stabs himself.) See, Cæsar, what we dare for thee. If thusFor nothing we die—how shall we die for thee? (He dies.) (Otho covers his face. Silence.) Otho.But ere I give it I must win that peace.Ah, thou hast taught me how to win it, friend.Give me his sword that I may kiss his blood. ”
“ Said the Mountain, ‘I think you had best run away.’ The Troll said, ‘You suffer, old boss, from the blues.’ The Mountain retorted, ‘I may if I choose.’ ‘Ah, that,’ cried the Troll, ‘is effect of the liver.’ ‘Take care,’ quoth the Hill, ‘or I’ll give you the shiver.’ ‘By my cap and its feather,’ the Spirit replies, ‘You’ll be getting too portly without exercise.’ ‘You pert little fly,’ said the Rock in a rage, ‘I will teach you to chaff at a hill of my age.’ So he jump’d up to punish the impudent Fay, Who wisely retorted by running away ”
“ Look’d at, when in the streets True sorrow, seal’d with soresAnd wrap’d in rags, entreats A charity from ours, Manhood can best control; But this dark exile hathWorse wounds, and of the soul— A misery and a wrath. Exile ExileIHappy the man who ploughs All day his native croft;He looks to heaven and knows, Smiling, the lark aloft. Happy the man whose toil Leads on laborious hills;The rock beneath the soil The measure of his ills. Happiest, who can go forth Thro’ every age and clime,His home the whole of earth, His heritage all time. ”
“ Gorm. Away!Icelin. Gorm. Away!What?Gorm. Icelin. Gorm. Away!What?Wolf!Icelin. Gorm. Icelin. Gorm. Away!What?Wolf!What?Gorm. Icelin. Gorm. Icelin. Gorm. Away!What?Wolf!What?Wolf, wolf, wolf!Your teeth are white but pointed like a wolf’s.Your face is white but both your lips are red—So bleeding red! I have my sword—away!Or I will stab you! Even by this lightThere’s blood upon your lips—and some of itBurns on me now. Your race’s blood is poison—His, yours, and all your race’s. You’re a witch;A wolf, a witch, a witch! I have my sword—So follow not! A witch, a witch, a witch! ”
“ An Expostulation with Truth Uttered by the Well Meaning Poet Altho’ you live aloft so far, Transcendent Goddess, in your star, Pray, try to see us as we are. Consider—and be more forgiving— Life is not reasoning but believing, And we must work to get our living. ”
“ Puck.I take the former—for he sleeps.Three pennies in a pouch he keeps,A mouse, a beetle in a box,A candle, and some bits of rocks.What’s here? A diamond? No, alas,Only a piece—of pure glass!My lord, I vow by this I know it,Here’s not a fool, but but a poet.Oberon.So then we’re safe. Let him sleep on,And ride from Troy to Helicon.Titania.Once more we breathe the summer-sweeten’d air.Night, and the still stars, and the world are fair.Oberon.Immortal; and the grumbling clouds descend,Mingle with mists upon the verge, and end. ”
“ D’you think we’ve nothing else to do But to distinguish false from true?— We’re lawyers, doctors, parsons too. But for our little fond delusions We’d never come to our conclusions, And then—just think of the confusions! You pain us when you contradict. Your presence would the less afflict If you were not so very strict. Dear Lady, take this sober view, It matters little what is true— The world is not the place for you. I rede you therefore, go away; Or, if you really mean to stay, Let’s hear your views another day. [10] Ariel and the Hippopotamus Dedicated to Rural Magnates ”
“ Thou seëst the heavens, and earth, and marts and towersOf teeming man; the battle smoke that loursAbove the nations where they strive below;—The gleam of golden cohorts and the cloudOf shrieking peoples yielding to the brink—The gleam, the gold, the agony, the rage;The civic virtue of a race unbow’d;The reeling empire, lost in license, sink;And chattering pigmies of a later age. 1881-2. Science ScienceI would rejoice in iron arms with thoseWho, nobly in the scorn of recompense,Have dared to follow Truth alone, and thenceTo teach the truth—nor fear’d the rage that rose. ”
“ Icelin. Hough, hough. Where is my stick—my stick?Say, then,When shall I marry Gorm?Dansberg. When shall I marry Gorm?Hough, hough, hough, hough.Let us go in and think o’t.Icelin. Let us go in and think o’t.Tell me now.Dansberg.Then give me first your arm to help me rise. (Rises.) A good girl—so. Your arm is thin but firm—Thinner but firmer than your mother’s. Tut!Poor daughter, daughter. Dead, dead, dead, so long!When that my blindness first did seize upon me,How she would run to me to help me on,And kiss me oft that saw her not—untilI felt the hot tears on my hand. ”
“ In 1881 I joined the military medical service of India, and was called upon to serve during the next seven years in Madras, Bangalore, Burma, and the Andaman Islands. Having abundant leisure, I occupied most of it in the study of various sciences and arts, in all of which I attempted some works to the best of my ability. For this I make no excuse to my conscience, since to my mind art and science are the same, and efforts in both, however poor the result may be, are to be commended more than idleness. ”
“ The gods have spoken, and love not to warnIn vain. I am resolved. I’ll war no more.Soldiers.Ah! Ah!Small Soldier. Soldiers.Ah! Ah!We are not vanquisht!Otho. Small Soldier. Soldiers.Ah! Ah!We are not vanquisht!But not victors.The omens are adverse. Vitellius wins.What matter if he win? So let him win.Shall Rome be river’d with her children’s bloodThat he or I should wear a purple rag?What is’t to Rome who should be Cæsar? Hear. ”
“ Near the end of the seven years, however, I began to be drawn toward certain thoughts which from the first had occurred to me in my profession, especially as to the cause of the widespread sickness and of the great misery and decadence of the people of India. Racked by poverty, swept by epidemics, housed in hovels, ruled by superstitions, they presented the spectacle of an ancient civilisation fallen for centuries into decay. One saw there both physical and mental degeneration. Since the time of the early mathematicians science had died ”
“ Fill with joy and drink the wine. All may pall, but beauty never; When love dies life doth decline. Let us bend like guardians o’er thee, With our full lips kissing thine; Thought alone is worthless for thee; Buds about thy heart entwine. Pynthanix.See, see, the Spirit that clove the airWith lightning eyes and stormy hair,His mission done and soaring far,Hath now become the Morning Star!Saphenix.The clouds grow clear in the east, and highThe pearl of dawn o’erspreads the sky. ”
“ The world is evil—pray beware— How fat you are, I do declare! God grant us all some day remission— I vow you’re in a fine condition. I think that all—I must say that For a fairy you are very fat. What unctuous food—excuse me, friend— [18] You fays must find in fairy land. As I was saying, all is not— Fie, what a toothache I have got! See here, this molar. Pray look nearer, And you shall see the bad place clearer. Nay if you could but just creep in And say which tooth the mischief’s in—’ ‘No thank you, friend,’ our Puck replied ”
“ Icelin. Help, help! Hough, hough.Come, father, here’s my arm.Why do you shout?Dansberg. Why do you shout?I shout because I die.Icelin.I am your daughter.Dansberg. Icelin.I am your daughter.Are you my daughter, ’Linde?My daughter’s spirit?Icelin. My daughter’s spirit?Yes.Dansberg. Icelin. My daughter’s spirit?Yes.I know your voice! (She leads him toward the pit.) No! You are not my daughter. Your arm’s too thin!Help, God! Make me a miracle now to save me,Since man will not; or I will cry aloudThere is no God in all this black, black world. ”
“ Appointed for our tears This term of exile. Lo, Life is but nothing thus: Old friendships perishèd;Not hand in hand with us The dying father dead; Narrow’d the mind that should Thro’ all experience rangeAnd grow ”
“ To cheer the coming better blood; And shall be fire when thou art mud!’ ‘Blind is the goose that play’d the geier And tried to see the white sun nigher!— He flapping lies; so shall you lie And grovel as you think to fly!’ The other cries; whose Nag amazed, Viewing the winged Stallion, gazed, Shook out her tail and with a snort, Approaching in plebeian sort, [29] Paw’d archly at him. He with scorn And having too long mildly borne, Rear’d, spread his wings, and buck’d and neigh’d. She with the monstrous tone affray’d Shot forth her rider like a ball ”
“ The poem, such as it is, is not a diary in verse, but rather the figure of a work and of a philosophy. . . . I find I cannot rise with those who would soar above reason in the chase of something supernal. Infinities and absolutes are still beyond us; though we may hope to come nearer to them some day by the patient study of little things. Our first duty is the opposite of that which many prophets enjoin upon us—or so I think. We must not accept any speculations merely because they now appear pleasant, flattering, or ennobling to us. We must be content to creep upwards step by step ”
“ Icelin.Not very cold.Dansberg. Icelin.Not very cold.I feel that it is cold.I feel as if we were in some great forest,And that you do not see the things you say.The ground is soft and all the dead leaves crackBeneath the feet. Where are we?Icelin. Beneath the feet. Where are we?Just at the gate.Dansberg. Roars not the river at his hundred eyots?What colour is the foam?Icelin. What colour is the foam?As white as snow.Dansberg.You lie, you lie; you see it not, you lie!The storm-flood sweeps the river, and its foamRuns tawny as the sand.Icelin. Runs tawny as the sand.I do not lie. ”
“ To gulp it dutifully down (But leave the bitter dregs alone) . Desire not aught of any man (But take your due) ; so that you can (Quite safely unto others do As you wish they should unto you) ; And thus’—so summed the portly Priest— ‘Be chosen for the Wedding Feast (As City Councillor at least) .’ [17] Puck and the Crocodile Dedicated to the Godly Puck, wandering on the banks of Nile, Beheld one day a Crocodile, That with heart-wringing sighs and sobs, With groans and cries and throes and throbs, Made moan, until his rushing tears Ran down the wrinkles of the sand. ”
“ That some dim distant light may haply break.. . . . . . The painful faces ask, can we not cure?We answer, No, not yet; we seek the laws.O God, reveal thro’ all this thing obscureThe unseen, small, but million-murdering cause. Bangalore, 1890-3. ”
“ Each tree a flaming angel for a torch.Oh! oh! the air is full of murder!—Not yet,O Death, not yet! I am too young to die!See, Heaven, my heart is beating still with blood.When that the heart is bloodless, ’twill be timeTo die!Icelin.Come, father, come; why do you shriekSo much?Dansberg. I shriek because I die.Gorm. Beware! ”
“ Titania.But so think I.Oberon. Titania.But so think I.Why then your creed prevails!But it is scathless: fools are always males!—So now that every sot has said his say,Wisdom and we may get again our day,To tell men if they live with love and mirth,The earth is Heav’n indeed, and Heaven earth. ”
“ If we fight more we melt, I trow.’ ‘A little grace,’ the Man replied, Wiping his brow, ‘is not denied; You’ll have but little when you’ve died.’ [23] So each beneath a tree disposed Took ease. The languid Lion dozed. The Man, who should have done likewise (So says the Saga that is wise) , Was waked each time he sued repose By a great Fly upon his nose. ”
“ Never hath freedom’s cry The stifling stillness cleaved;The hopeless millions die That yet have never lived. No noble god of earth, Man can but snatch and eat;Starvation murders worth, Wealth makes the beast complete. ”
