Alfred Noyes

“ There was a song in heaven of old,
A song the choral seven began,
When God with all his chariots rolled
The tides of chaos back for man;
When suns revolved and planets wheeled,
And the great oceans ebbed and flowed,
There is one way of life, it pealed,
The road of law, the unchanging road.
The trumpet of the law resounds,
And we behold, from depth to height,
What glittering sentries walk their rounds,
What ordered hosts patrol the night,
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While wheeling worlds proclaim to us,
Captained by Thee thro’ nights unknown,—
Glory that would be glorious
Must keep Thy law to find its own. ”

“ OCEAN-MOTHER of England, thine is the crowning acclaim.
Here, in the morning of battle, from over the world and beyond,
Here, by our fleets of steel, silently foam into line
Fleets of our glorious dead, thy shadowy oak-walled ships.
Mother, for O, thy soul must speak thro’ our iron lips!
How should we speak to the ages, unless with a word of thine?
Utter it, Victory! Let thy great signal flash thro’ the flame! ”

“ O white may crowding o’er the lane,
The Shepherd that drives you
To the darkness
Shall lead you thro’ the crimson dawn again.
Bear your load of beauty to the sunset, and the golden gates of death.
The Eternal shall remember
In the darkness
And recall you at a word, at a breath.
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Even as the mind of a man may remember his lost and linkless hours,
This world that is scattered
To the darkness
Dismembered and dis-petalled, clouds and flowers,
Cities, suns, and systems, as He said of old, they sleep! ”

“ Dull as dropping earth upon a tomb in the distance,
They heard, as when across a wood a low wind comes,
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A muttering of drums, drawing nearer,
Then louder and clearer, as when a trumpet sings
To battle, it came rushing on the wings of the wind,
A sound of sacked cities, a sound of lamentation,
A cry of desolation, as when a conquered nation
Is weeping in the darkness, because its tale is told;
And then—a sound of chariots that rolled thro’ that sorrow
Trampled like a storm of wild stallions, tossing nearer,
Trampled louder, clearer, triumphantly as music,
Till lo! ”

“ Out of the desolate ages. It never has changed.
It never can die.
A cry over numberless graves, dark, helpless and blind,
From the measureless past,
To the measureless future, a sobbing before the first laughter,
And after the last!
.......
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From the height of creation, in passion eternal, the Word
Rushes forth, the loud cry,
Forsaken! Forsaken! It cuts through the night like a sword!
Shall it win no reply?
Not of earth is that height of all sorrow, past time, out of space,
Therefore here, here and now,
Universal, a Calvary, crowned with Thy passionate face,
Thy thorn-wounded brow. ”

“ In no faint flights of music that create
Low heavens o’er-arched by skies without a star,
Nor sink in the easier gulfs of shallower pain!
Sing thou in the whole majesty of thy fate,
Teach us thro’ joy, thro’ grief, thro’ peace, thro’ war,
With single heart and soul
Still, still to seek the goal,
And thro’ our perishing heavens, point us to Heaven again. ”

“ That men must die.
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THE SACRED OAK (A Song of Britain)
I VOICE of the summer stars that, long ago,
Sang thro’ the old oak-forests of our isle,
Enchanted voice, pure as her falling snow,
Dark as her storms, bright as her sunniest smile,
Taliessin, voice of Britain, the fierce flow
Of fourteen hundred years has whelmed not thee!
Still art thou singing, lavrock of her morn,
Singing to heaven in that first golden glow,
Singing above her mountains and her sea!
Not older yet are grown
Thy four winds in their moan
For Urien. Still thy charlock blooms in the billowing corn. ”

“ XV And hark, His whispers thro’ creation flow,
Lovest thou me? His nations answer “yea!”
And—Feed My lambs, His voice as long ago
Steals from that highest heaven, how far away!
And yet again saith—Lovest thou Me? and “O,
Thou knowest we love Thee,” passionately we cry:
But, heeding not our tumult, out of the deep
The great grave whisper, pitiful and low,
Breathes—Feed My sheep; and yet once more the sky
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Thrills with that deep strange plea,
Lovest thou, lovest thou Me?
And our lips answer “yea”; but our God—Feed My sheep. ”

“ That Love is risen, is risen again, and Love is Lord of all.
“At Paske began our morrice
And, ere Pentecost, our May;
Because, albeit your words be true,
You know not what you say.
You chatter in church like jackdaws,
Words that would wake the dead,
Were there one breath of life in you,
One drop of blood,” he said.
“He died and He went down to hell! You know not what you mean.
Our rafters were of green fir. Also our beds were green.
But out of the mouth of a fool, a fool, before the darkness fall,
We tell you He is risen again,
The Lord of Life is risen again,
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The boughs put forth their tender buds, and Love is Lord of all!” ”

“ Towered like tuskéd castles, every thunder-laden footfall
Dreadful as the shattering of a City. Yet they trod,
Rocking like an earthquake, to a great triumphant music,
And, swinging like the stars, black planets, white moons,
Thro’ the stream of the torches, they brought the red chariot,
The chariot of the battle-god—Mars.
While the tall spears of Sparta tossed clashing in his train,
And a host of ghostly warriors cried aloud
All hail! to those twain, and went rushing to the darkness
Like a pageantry of cloud, for their tale was told—utterly—
Told. ”

“ Their music now? Urania bows her head.
Only the feet that move in order dance.
Only the mind attuned to that dread pulse
Of law throughout the universe can sing.
Only the soul that plays its rhythmic part
In that great measure of the tides and suns
Terrestrial and celestial, till it soar
Into the supreme melodies of heaven,
Only that soul, climbing the splendid road
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Of law from height to height, may walk with God,
Shape its own sphere from chaos, conquer death,
Lay hold on life and liberty, and sing. ”

“ Cry o’er the warring nations, cry as of old
A little child shall lead them! they shall be
One people under the shadow of God’s wing!
There shall be no more weeping! Let it be told
That Britain set one foot upon the sea,
One foot on the earth. Her eyes
Burned thro’ the conquered skies,
And, as the angel of God, she bade the whole world sing.
XIV A dream? Nay, have ye heard or have ye known
That the everlasting God who made the ends
Of all creation wearieth? His worlds groan
Together in travail still. Still He descends
From heaven. ”

“ Elves, from what torn white feet trickled that red on the way?
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No—from the sun-burnt hands of what lovers that fade in the distance?
Here, was it here that they paused, here that the legend was told?
Even a kiss would be heard in this hush; but, with mocking insistence,
Now thro’ the valley resound—only the bells of the fold.
Dropt—from the hands of what beautiful throng? Did they cry “follow after”?
Dancing into the west, leaving this token for me,
Memory dead on the path, and the sunset to bury their laughter?
Youth—is it youth that has flown? Darkness covers the sea. ”

“ Falls to her feet, and the garland breaks and vanishes,
Breaks like a dream in the dawn when the dreamer
Wakes.
White-bosomed Astrid,—ah, but she was beautiful!—
Nightly tastes the sorrow of the world in the moon.
Will it be this little white miracle, she wonders.
How shall she know it, the star that will save her?
Still, ah still, in the moonlight she crouches
Bowing her head, for the garland has crumbled!
All the wild petals for the thousand and second time
Fall.
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White-footed Astrid,—ah, but she is beautiful!—
Nightly seeks the secret of the world in the moon. ”

“ Nay, lifted thro’ a heaven of light,
His proud sails brightening thro’ that crimson flame,
Leaving us lonely on the shores of night,
Home to Ponemah take his deathless fame.
Generous as a child, so wholly free
From all base pride that fools forgot his crown,
He adored Beauty, in pure ecstasy,
And waived the mere rewards of his renown.
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The spark that falls from heaven not oft on earth
To human hearts this vital splendour gives;
His was the simple, true, immortal birth.
Scholars compose; but—this man’s music lives! ”

“ Beacons thee onward in might to the purpose and crown of thy power.
Hark, for the whole Atlantic thunders against thy gates,
Take the Crown of all Time, all might, earth’s crowning Crown,
Throne thy children in peace and in freedom together, O weld them in one.
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X The Guns of the Fleet
Throne them in triumph together. Thine is the crowning cry!
Thine the glory for ever in the nation born of thy womb!
Thine the Sword and the Shield, and the shout that Salamis heard,
Surging in Æschylean splendour, earth-shaking acclaim!
Ocean-mother of England, thine is the throne of her fame. ”

“ The bells pealed to the moon.
A bundle of rags and bones, a bundle of mist,
And never a hell or heaven to hear or see,
The woman, the woman whose lips had once been kissed,
Knelt down feverishly.
She plucked the shawl out of that frozen clutch.
The dead are dead. Why should the living freeze? ”

“ From that dark isle the Saxon swayed,
And star whispers to trembling star
While Space and Time shrink back afraid,—
“Ten thousand thousand years remain
For man to dare our deep again.”
Thou, too, shalt hear across that deep
Our thundering fleets of thought draw nigh,
Round which the suns and systems sweep
Like cloven foam from sky to sky,
Till Death himself at last restore
His captives to our eyes once more.
.......
Feeble the wings, dauntless the soul!
Take thou the conqueror’s laurel crown;
Take—for thy chariot grazed the goal—
The imperial garland of renown ”

“ Of viking oars and the sea’s dark refrain,
And thine own beating heart, and the sublime
Measure to which the moons and stars revolve
Untroubled by the storms that, year by year,
In ever-swelling symphonies still climb
To embrace our growing world and to resolve
Discords unknown to thee,
In the infinite harmony
Which still transcends our strife and leaves us darkling here.
.......
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V For, now, one sings of heaven and one of hell,
One soars with hope, one plunges to despair!
This, trembling, doubts if aught be ill or well;
And that cries, “Fair is foul and foul is fair;” ”

“ Signal us, not to the dead, but to the living God.
XII Signal us with that watchword of the deep,
The watchword that her boldest seamen gave
The winds of the unknown ocean-sea to keep,
When round their oaken walls the midnight wave
Heaved and subsided in gigantic sleep,
And they plunged Westward with her flag unfurled.
Hark, o’er their cloudy sails and glimmering spars,
The watch cries, as they proudly onward sweep,—
Before the world ... All’s well!... Before the world ... ”

“ They shall behold His wonders, alone on the Deep, the Deep!
Have we forgotten, we only? O, rend the heavens again,
Voice of the Everlasting, shake the great hills with thy breath!
Roll the Voice of our God thro’ the valleys of doubt and death!
Waken the fog-bound cities with the shout of the wind-swept main,
Inland over the smouldering plains, till the mists unfold,
Darkness die, and England, England arise from sleep.
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IX The Guns of H.M.S. Triumph
Queen of the North and the South, Queen of our ocean-renown,
England, England, England, O lift thine eyes to the sun! ”

“ In power, among the clouds of heaven.—
Then Roland rings?—Yes, little son!
With iron hammers they dare not scorn,
Roland is breaking them, gun by gun,
Roland is ringing. Christ is born.
Born and re-born; for though the Christ we knew
On earth be dead for ever, who shall kill
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The Eternal Christ whose law is in our hearts,
Christ, who in this dark hour descends to hell,
And ascends into heaven, and sits beside
The right hand of the Father. If for men
This law be dead, it lives for children still.
Children that men have butchered see His face,
Rest in His arms, and strike our mockery dumb. ”

“ From sea to sea, from height to war-worn height,
The old word rings out—to conquer or to die.
And we shall conquer! Though their eagles fly
Through heaven, around this ancient isle unite
Powers that were never vanquished in the fight,
The unconquerable Powers that cannot lie. ”

“ I touch—I clasp thy hands thro’ all the clouds of doom.
X Teach thou our living choirs amid the sound
Of their tempestuous chords once more to hear
That harmony wherewith the whole is crowned,
The singing heavens that sphere by choral sphere
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Break open, height o’er height, to the utmost bound
Of passionate thought! O, as this glorious land,
This sacred country shining on the sea,
Grows mightier, let not her clear voice be drowned
In the fierce waves of faction. Let her stand
A beacon to the blind,
A signal to mankind,
A witness to the heavens’ profoundest unity. ”

“ Then, O then he murmured to himself (while the moon hung
Crimson as a lanthorn of Cathay in that crab-tree) ,
Laughing at his work and the world, as I thought,
Yet with some bitterness, yet with some beauty,
Mocking his own music, these wraiths of his rhymes:
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I God, when I turn the leaves of that dark book
Wherein our wisest teach us to recall
Those glorious flags which in old tempests shook
And those proud thrones which held my youth in thrall;
When I see clear what seemed to childish eyes
The gorgeous colouring of each pictured age ”

“ Thine the thunder and thine the lightning, thine the doom.
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IN MEMORY OF A BRITISH AVIATOR
ON those young brows that knew no fear
We lay the Roman athlete’s crown,
The laurel of the charioteer,
The imperial garland of renown,
While those young eyes, beyond the sun,
See Drake, see Raleigh, smile “Well done.”
Their desert seas that knew no shore
To-night with fleets like cities flare;
But, frailer even than theirs of yore,
His keel a new-found deep would dare:
They watch, with thrice-experienced eyes
What fleets shall follow through the skies. ”