Matthew Arnold

“ These to the world too are given;
Wit it possesses, and scorn:
Charm is the poet’s alone.
Hollow and dull are the great,
And artists envious, and the mob profane.
We know all this, we know!
Cam’st thou from heaven, O child
Of light! but this to declare?
Alas! to help us forget{332}
Such barren knowledge a while,
God gave the poet his song.
Therefore a secret unrest
Tortured thee, brilliant and bold;
Therefore triumph itself
Tasted amiss to thy soul.
Therefore, with blood of thy foes,
Trickled in silence thine own.
Therefore the victor’s heart
Broke on the field of his fame. ”

“ When air is chilliest, and the stars sunk low;
Then Balder’s spirit through the gloom drew near,
In garb, in form, in feature, as he was,
Alive; and still the rays were round his head
Which were his glorious mark in heaven; he stood
Over against the curtain of the bed,
And gazed on Nanna as she slept, and spake,—
“Poor lamb, thou sleepest, and forgett’st thy woe!
Tears stand upon the lashes of thine eyes,
Tears wet the pillow by thy cheek; but thou,
Like a young child, hast cried thyself to sleep.
Sleep on; I watch thee, and am here to aid. ”

“ A king, whose fame then filled the vast of heaven:
Now time obscures it, and men’s later deeds.
He last approached the corpse, and spake and said,—
“Balder, there yet are many scalds in heaven
Still left, and that chief scald, thy brother Brage,
Whom we may bid to sing, though thou art gone.
And all these gladly, while we drink, we hear,
After the feast is done, in Odin’s hall;
But they harp ever on one string, and wake
Remembrance in our soul of wars alone,
Such as on earth we valiantly have waged,
And blood, and ringing blows, and violent death. ”

“ He loves thee, but he must not see thee now.
Thou hast indeed a rare touch on thy harp;
He loves that in thee, too; there was a time
(But that is past) , he would have paid thy strain
With music to have drawn the stars from heaven.
He has his harp and laurel with him still;
But he has laid the use of music by,
And all which might relax his settled gloom.
Yet thou may’st try thy playing, if thou wilt,
But thou must keep unseen: follow us on,
But at a distance! in these solitudes,
In this clear mountain air, a voice will rise,
Though from afar, distinctly; it may soothe him. ”

“ The mighty Rustum never had a son.”
And, with a failing voice, Sohrab replied,—
“Ah, yes, he had! and that lost son am I.
Surely the news will one day reach his ear,—
Reach Rustum, where he sits, and tarries long,
Somewhere, I know not where, but far from here;
And pierce him like a stab, and make him leap
To arms, and cry for vengeance upon thee.
Fierce man, bethink thee, for an only son!
What will that grief, what will that vengeance, be?
Oh, could I live till I that grief had seen! ”

“ Of their dear country, and can plain descry
A fire of withered furze which boys have lit
Upon the cliffs, or smoke of burning weeds
Out of a tilled field inland: then the wind
Catches them, and drives out again to sea;
And they go long days tossing up and down
Over the gray sea-ridges, and the glimpse
Of port they had makes bitterer far their toil,—
So the gods’ cross was bitterer for their joy.
Then, sad at heart, to Niord Hermod spake,—
“It is the accuser Lok, who flouts us all!
Ride back, and tell in heaven this heavy news;
I must again below, to Hela’s realm.” ”

“ Now must I call thy grief not wise.
Is he thy friend, or of thy blood,
To find such favor in thine eyes?
Nay, were he thine own mother’s son,
Still thou art king, and the law stands.
It were not meet the balance swerved,
The sword were broken in thy hands.
But being nothing, as he is,
Why for no cause make sad thy face?
Lo, I am old! three kings ere thee
Have I seen reigning in this place.
But who, through all this length of time,
Could bear the burden of his years,
If he for strangers pained his heart
Not less than those who merit tears? ”

“ And Hermod came, and leapt from Sleipner down,
And in his father’s hand put Sleipner’s rein,
And greeted Odin and the gods, and said,—
“Odin, my father, and ye, gods of heaven!
Lo, home, having performed your will, I come.
Into the joyless kingdom have I been,
Below, and looked upon the shadowy tribes
Of ghosts, and communed with their solemn queen;
And to your prayer she sends you this reply:—
Show her through all the world the signs of grief!
Fails but one thing to grieve, there Balder stops!
Let gods, men, brutes, beweep him; plants and stones. ”

“ For I too am a goddess, born of thee,
Thine eldest, and of me the gods are sprung;
And all that is to come I know, but lock
In mine own breast, and have to none revealed.
Come, then! since Hela holds by right her prey,
But offers terms for his release to heaven,
Accept the chance: thou canst no more obtain.
Send through the world thy messengers; entreat
All living and unliving things to weep
For Balder: if thou haply thus may’st melt
Hela, and win the loved one back to heaven.”{123}
She spake, and on her face let fall her veil,
And bowed her head, and sate with folded hands. ”

“ To seek out Rustum—seek him not through fight!
Seek him in peace, and carry to his arms,
O Sohrab, carry an unwounded son!
But far hence seek him, for he is not here.
For now it is not as when I was young,
When Rustum was in front of every fray:
But now he keeps apart, and sits at home,
In Seistan, with Zal, his father old;
Whether that his own mighty strength at last
Feels the abhorred approaches of old age;
Or in some quarrel with the Persian king.
There go!—Thou wilt not? Yet my heart forebodes
Danger or death awaits thee on this field. ”

“ Mere phantoms of man’s self-tormenting heart,
Which on the sweets that woo it dares not feed!
Vain dreams, which quench our pleasures, then depart,
When the duped soul, self-mastered, claims its meed;
When, on the strenuous just man, Heaven bestows,
Crown of his struggling life, an unjust close!
“Seems it so light a thing, then, austere powers,
To spurn man’s common lure, life’s pleasant things?
Seems there no joy in dances crowned with flowers,
Love free to range, and regal banquetings?
Bend ye on these indeed an unmoved eye,
Not gods, but ghosts, in frozen apathy? ”

“ Should make irruption into Hela’s realm,
And set the fields of gloom ablaze with light,
And bring in triumph Balder back to heaven?”
He spake, and his fierce sons applauded loud.
But Frea, mother of the gods, arose,
Daughter and wife of Odin; thus she said:—
“Odin, thou whirlwind, what a threat is this!
Thou threatenest what transcends thy might, even thine.
For of all powers the mightiest far art thou,
Lord over men on earth, and gods in heaven;
Yet even from thee thyself hath been withheld
One thing,—to undo what thou thyself hast ruled. ”

“ To self-selected good
Prefer obedience to the primal law
Which consecrates the ties of blood; for these, indeed,
Are to the gods a care:
That touches but himself.
For every day man may be linked and loosed
With strangers; but the bond
Original, deep-inwound,
Of blood, can he not bind,
Nor, if fate binds, not bear.
But hush! Hæmon, whom Antigone,
Robbing herself of life in burying,
Against Creon’s law, Polynices,
Robs of a loved bride,—pale, imploring,
Waiting her passage,
Forth from the palace hitherward comes.
HÆMON.
No, no, old men, Creon I curse not! ”

“ And from the hall of heaven he rode away
To Lidskialf, and sate upon his throne,
The mount, from whence his eye surveys the world.
And far from heaven he turned his shining orbs
To look on Midgard, and the earth, and men.
And on the conjuring Lapps he bent his gaze,
Whom antlered reindeer pull over the snow;
And on the Finns, the gentlest of mankind,
Fair men, who live in holes under the ground;
Nor did he look once more to Ida’s plain,
Nor toward Valhalla and the sorrowing gods;
For well he knew the gods would heed his word,
And cease to mourn, and think of Balder’s pyre. ”

“ Their passion burn more, ere it ceases to burn.
They must love—while they must! but the hearts that love longer
Are rare—ah! most loves but flow once, and return.
I shall suffer—but they will outlive their affection;
I shall weep—but their love will be cooling; and he,
As he drifts to fatigue, discontent, and dejection,
Will be brought, thou poor heart, how much nearer to thee!
For cold is his eye to mere beauty, who, breaking
The strong band which passion around him hath furled,{21}
Disenchanted by habit, and newly awaking,
Looks languidly round on a gloom-buried world. ”

“ But all at night return to Odin’s hall
Woundless and fresh: such lot is theirs in heaven.
And the Valkyries on their steeds went forth
Toward earth and fights of men; and at their side
Skulda, the youngest of the Nornies, rode;
And over Bifrost, where is Heimdall’s watch,
Past Midgard fortress, down to earth they came;
There through some battle-field, where men fall fast,
Their horses fetlock-deep in blood, they ride,
And pick the bravest warriors out for death,
Whom they bring back with them at night to heaven,
To glad the gods, and feast in Odin’s hall. ”

“ To her drew Hoder near, and spake, and said,—
“Mother, a child of bale thou bar’st in me!
For, first, thou barest me with blinded eyes,
Sightless and helpless, wandering weak in heaven;
And, after that, of ignorant witless mind
Thou barest me, and unforeseeing soul;
That I alone must take the branch from Lok,
The foe, the accuser, whom, though gods, we hate,
And cast it at the dear-loved Balder’s breast,
At whom the gods in sport their weapons threw.
’Gainst that alone had Balder’s life no charm. ”

“ So it restored thee, Nanna, to my side,
Whom thou so well hast loved; but I can smooth
Thy way, and this, at least, my prayers avail.
Yes, and I fain would altogether ward
Death from thy head, and with the gods in heaven
Prolong thy life, though not by thee desired;
But right bars this, not only thy desire.
Yet dreary, Nanna, is the life they lead{104}
In that dim world, in Hela’s mouldering realm;
And doleful are the ghosts, the troops of dead,
Whom Hela with austere control presides.
For of the race of gods is no one there,
Save me alone, and Hela, solemn queen. ”

“ Who then shall live in peace, as now in war.
But we in heaven shall find again with joy
The ruined palaces of Odin, seats
Familiar, halls where we have supped of old;
Re-enter them with wonder, never fill
Our eyes with gazing, and rebuild with tears.
And we shall tread once more the well-known plain
Of Ida, and among the grass shall find
The golden dice wherewith we played of yore;
And that will bring to mind the former life
And pastime of the gods, the wise discourse
Of Odin, the delights of other days.
O Hermod, pray that thou may’st join us then!
Such for the future is my hope ”

“ When Sohrab dares our bravest forth, and seeks
Thee most of all, and thou, whom most he seeks,
Hidest thy face? Take heed lest men should say,—
Like some old miser, Rustum hoards his fame,
And shuns to peril it with younger men.”
And, greatly moved, then Rustum made reply,—
“O Gudurz, wherefore dost thou say such words?
Thou knowest better words than this to say.
What is one more, one less, obscure or famed,
Valiant or craven, young or old, to me?
Are not they mortal? am not I myself?
But who for men of naught would do great deeds? ”

“ And hound, and morn on those delightful hills
In Ader-baijan. And he saw that youth,
Of age and looks to be his own dear son,
Piteous and lovely, lying on the sand;
Like some rich hyacinth which by the scythe
Of an unskilful gardener has been cut,
Mowing the garden grass-plots near its bed,
And lies, a fragrant tower of purple bloom,
On the mown, dying grass,—so Sohrab lay,
Lovely in death, upon the common sand.
And Rustum gazed on him with grief, and said,—
“O Sohrab, thou indeed art such a son
Whom Rustum, wert thou his, might well have loved! ”

“ She will cry, “Is this the foe I dreaded?
This his idol, this that royal bride?
Ah! an hour of health would purge his eyesight!
Stay, pale queen, forever by my side.”
Hush, no words! that smile, I see, forgives me.
I am now thy nurse, I bid thee sleep.
Close thine eyes: this flooding moonlight blinds them.
Nay, all’s well again! thou must not weep.
TRISTRAM.
I am happy! yet I feel there’s something
Swells my heart, and takes my breath away.
Through a mist I see thee; near—come nearer!
Bend—bend down! I yet have much to say.
ISEULT.
Heaven! ”

“ Who hid such import in an infant’s gloom?
Who lent thee, child, this meditative guise?
Who massed, round that slight brow, these clouds of doom?
Lo! sails that gleam a moment, and are gone;
The swinging waters, and the clustered pier.
Not idly earth and ocean labor on,
Nor idly do these sea-birds hover near.
But thou, whom superfluity of joy
Wafts not from thine own thoughts, nor longings vain,
Nor weariness, the full-fed soul’s annoy,
Remaining in thy hunger and in thy pain;{41}
Thou, drugging pain by patience; half averse
From thine own mother’s breast, that knows not thee ”

“ Are they from Heaven, these softenings of the heart?
O thou old warrior, let us yield to Heaven!
Come, plant we here in earth our angry spears,
And make a truce, and sit upon this sand,
And pledge each other in red wine, like friends,
And thou shalt talk to me of Rustum’s deeds.
There are enough foes in the Persian host,
Whom I may meet, and strike, and feel no pang;
Champions enough Afrasiab has, whom thou
Mayst fight; fight them, when they confront thy spear!
But oh, let there be peace ’twixt thee and me! ”

“ The march, the leaguer, heaven’s blithe air,
The neighing steeds, the ringing blows,—
Sick pining comes not where these are.
—Ah! what boots it, that the jest
Lightens every other brow,
What, that every other breast
Dances as the trumpets blow,
If one’s own heart beats not light
On the waves of the tossed fight,
If one’s self cannot get free
From the clog of misery?{140}
Thy lovely youthful wife grows pale
Watching by the salt sea-tide,
With her children at her side,
For the gleam of thy white sail.
Home, Tristram, to thy halls again! ”

“ Upon the thick piled carpets in the tent,
And found the old man sleeping on his bed
Of rugs and felts, and near him lay his arms.
And Peran-Wisa heard him, though the step
Was dulled; for he slept light, an old man’s sleep;
And he rose quickly on one arm, and said,—
“Who art thou? for it is not yet clear dawn.
Speak! is there news, or any night alarm?”
But Sohrab came to the bedside, and said,—
“Thou know’st me, Peran-Wisa! it is I.
The sun has not yet risen, and the foe
Sleep: but I sleep not; all night long I lie
Tossing and wakeful, and I come to thee. ”