Duero

“ The desert! He drew a deep breath of heart-felt anticipation. It was calling him more compellingly than it had ever done, bringing memories of long hot rides beneath the burning sun, of the silver radiance of the peaceful moonlit nights and the never failing glory of the dawn. He smiled a little at his own enthusiasm. It was not all peace and beauty and marvellous silence. There was battle and murder and sudden death, cruelty that was inconceivable and suffering that made him set his teeth as he thought of the needless agony he had witnessed more times than he cared to remember. ”

“ SUMMER MORNING.
Morning again breaks through the mines of Heaven,
And shakes her jewelled kirtle on the sky,
Heavy with rosy gold. Aside are driven
The vassal clouds, which bow as she draws nigh,
And catch her scattered gems of orient dye,
The pearlèd-ruby which her pathway strews;
Argent and amber, now thrown useless by.
The uncoloured clouds wear what she doth refuse,
For only once does Morn her sun-dyed garments use. ”

“ This morning I seemed to be in a land of faery. Beneath every dwarf poplar the footpath and the turf were carpeted with yellow leaves, speckled with black, already decaying, and exhaling a penetrating odour of mouldering vegetation. It seemed to me that all the life of my holidays, all the faithful and pure friendship which, since adolescence, has never ceased to surround me at Dully, all the faces and the voices of this beloved house, were coming to me with the autumn vapours, rising from among the first masses of dead leaves. ”

“ From the dim north, where the wild storm-wind raves O’er the cold surge that chills the shore it laves, To sunlit isles by softest seas caressed, Where roses bloom alway and song-birds nest, How thick they lie—like flecks upon the waves! There is no mountain-top so far and high, No desert so remote, no vale so deep, No spot by man so long untenanted, But the pale moon, slow marching up the sky, Sees over some lone grave the shadows creep! O Earth! art thou not weary of thy dead? [271] ALEXANDER
There was a man whom all men called The Great. ”

“ A hundred times, along the mountain-side, Autumn has flung his crimson banners wide; A hundred times has kindly Winter spread His snowy mantle o’er the violet’s bed; A hundred times has Earth rejoiced to hear The Spring’s light footsteps in the forest sere, Since on yon grassy knoll the quick, sharp stroke Of the young woodman’s axe the silence broke. ”

“ The sea-breeze blows her locks about; O’er bare, brown feet the white sand swells. Coarsest serge is her gown of gray, Faded and torn her apron blue, And there in the beautiful, dying day The girl still thinks of the work to do. [7]
Stains of labor are on her hands, Lost is the young form’s airy grace; And standing there on the shining sands You read her fate in her weary face. Up with the dawn to toil all day For meagre fare and a place to sleep; Seldom a moment to dream or play, Little leisure to laugh or weep. ”

“ Oh, shun the Druid tree! Stay not alone, and in the midnight hour Break not the ground for roots, no drinks prepare, No characters inscribe upon the sand! 'Tis easy to unlock the realm of spirits; Listening each sound, beneath a film of earth They lay in wait, ready to rush aloft. Stay not alone, for in the wilderness The prince of darkness tempted e'en the Lord. ”

“ Nature, when the labours of the year are over, sinks to rest beneath her fleecy coverings, lulled to sleep in the kindly, yet frosty, arms of the Northern tempest. What wild weird lullabies are sung to her unheeding ears, dulled by the lethargy of sleep. How early falls the darkness, and how late the long night lingers, the better to ensure repose to the sweet mistress of the earth! ”

“ In the evening they smoke like incense and, bending under the circling sky, they then offer a strangely fascinating image of prayer and of melancholy. From afar the Jura listens, and, like a dreamer, pursuing his way, plunges into the darkness. ”

“ It was old. Storm-rocked for many centuries, it had grown One with the hills, the river and the sod; Yet young it was, with largess of red gold For every autumn, and from stores unknown Bringing each springtime treasure-trove to God. II.
Then came a night of terror and dismay, Uproar and lightning, with the furious sweep Of mighty winds, that raged from steep to steep, And ere it passed the great tree prostrate lay! ”

“ They tremble when they go to bed lest they should hear in the morning of a frost in the night; they dread rain, wind, drought, and want water, heat, and clouds to suit their fancy. A perpetual duel goes on between the heavens and their terrestrial interests. ”

“ The morn, the noon, Have fled too soon— Delay, O golden afternoon!
O peerless Sun, Thou radiant one Whose dazzling course is half-way run, Stay, stay thy flight Down yon blue height, Nor haste thee to the arms of night!
The west wind blows O’er beds of rose, But does not stir my deep repose. In dreamful guise I close mine eyes, Borne on its wings to Paradise.
Beneath this tree Half consciously. I share the life of all things free, Hearing the beat Of rhythmic feet, As the grasses run my hand to meet. [390]
The wild bee’s hum, The lone bird’s drum, O’er the wide pastures faintly come ”

“ A Dialogue. I PROMISED a dialogue, and I will keep my word.
It was daybreak. The rays of the sun were gilding the summit of Mount Viso, and the tops of the highest hills on the island beneath our feet. My soul was already awake. This early awakening may have been the effect of those night visions which often excite in her a fatiguing and useless agitation: or perhaps the carnival, then drawing to a close, was the secret cause; for this season of pleasure and folly influences the human organization much as do the phases of the moon and the conjunction of certain planets. ”

“ So long, so long that since that hour Full half a lifetime hath gone by— How ran the days ere first we met, Belovéd, thou and I?
We had our dreams, no doubt. The dawn Must still presage the rising sun, And rose and crimson flush the east Ere day is well begun. We had our dreams—fair, shadowy wraiths That fled when Day’s full splendor kissed Our souls’ high places, and its winds Swept the vales clear of mist!
So long, so short, So swift, so slow, Are the years of man As they come and go! ”

“ But the dark clouds sail on, and envelop the crimson tints yet lingering and blushing on the lofty mountains, and like monstrous night-birds brood there in silent watch, and gradually the whole landscape;—mountains and sky, convent and olive trees, look gray and sad, and seem to melt away in the dim twilight. ”

“ IN SAN LORENZO.
Is thine hour come to wake, O slumbering Night?
⁠Hath not the Dawn a message in thine ear?
⁠Though thou be stone and sleep, yet shalt thou hear
When the word falls from heaven—Let there be light. ”

“ But the morning hours sped on apace; The air grew sweet with the breath of June; And young Love hid by the waiting loom, Tangling the threads as he hummed a tune.
“Ah, life is so rich and full!” she cried, “And morn is short though the days are long! This noon I will weave my beautiful web, I will weave it carefully, fine and strong.” But the sun rode high in the cloudless sky; The burden and heat of the day she bore And hither and thither she came and went, While the loom stood still as it stood before. [204]
“Ah! life is too busy at noon,” she said ”

“ Dürer shows us the constancy that bridges the intervals between such free hours, that gives continuity to man's necessarily spasmodic effort. Thus he typifies for us the Northern genius: as Michael Angelo's athletes might typify by their naked beauty and the unexplained impressiveness of their gestures, the genius of the sudden South--sudden in action, sudden in thought, suddenly mature, suddenly asleep--as day changes to night and night to day the more rapidly as the tropics are approached. ”

“ How couldst thou know In that dark hour, that never tide could flow So ebon-black, nor ever mountain-bar Breast night so deep, without or moon or star, But that the morning yet again must glow? [284] God never leaves thee in relentless dark. Slowly the dawn on unbelieving eyes Breaketh at last. ”

“ The sun was then passing through the autumnal equinox, that is to say, the day and night were of equal length all over the world. These successive alternations of light and darkness were hailed with delight by the inhabitants of the fort. It is easier to sleep in the absence of the sun, and darkness refreshes and strengthens the eyes, weary with the unchanging brightness of several months of daylight. ”

“ We would see spring, summer, and the red riot of autumn, and then in winter, beneath the soft white snow, sleep and dream of dreams. But we know that being dead, our Happiness is a fine and finished thing and that ten, a hundred, and a thousand years, we shall lie at rest, unhurt in the Court of Peace. ”

“ To get alongside the water and amongst the palms with their green crop underneath is wonderful after weeks of the desert. I don’t know of anything more depressing and hopeless than to—as we often and often had to—be going all day in the broiling sun and dust and wind, and find it hopeless to try and get to the river, and must camp where we are, the horses unwatered, and every one finished their water-bottles, and knowing that you’ve got to be on the move at 4 A.M. again, with the expectation of meeting the enemy. ”

“ At sunset, on such a day, as evening calmness settles down, weird mountain shadows begin to move across the dimly-lighted glens; and when darkness has fallen, there is a mystic stillness, broken only by the ceaseless throbbing of the sea-waves, the flow of brooks, and the voices of the night. ”

“ Out of all the foregoing, out of all the mortal and mouldering coverings we have now to shell the real, the immortal Dürer—the Dürer whose mind was longing for truth, whose soul was longing for harmony, and who out of his longings fashioned his Art, as all great men have done and will do until the last. ”

“ No; I will not despair while thy hand points me on,
Though flowerless and thorny the path where I roam.
For a calm sunlight rests on the far hills beyond,
And I know 'tis the radiance that streams from my home,
—Home, beautiful home!
GOD'S WITNESSES. A PEN PICTURE FROM THE OLD TESTAMENT. Upon the plain of Dura stood an image great and high,
With golden forehead broad and bright beneath the morning sky;
All regal in its majesty and kingly in its mien,
The grandest and most glorious thing the world had ever seen! ”

“ Dawn, with blushing face and heart of gold, bewrays the glory of her eternal abode to the world of man, sending her outriders before, the Asvins, the lords of lustre, whose shining armour, forged of the sun’s rays, illumines the pearly sky with dazzling splendour. ”

“ The morning was sparkling with life—the life and vigor which a touch of frost gives to the autumn world in a country where the blood tingles to the dry, sweet sting of the air. Beautiful, and spacious, and buoyant, and lonely, the valley and the mountains seemed waiting, like a new-born world, to be peopled by man. ”

“ Day dawned; day, cold, wet, and cloudy, but ever cheerful to one weighed down by the sense of darkness and inaction: day did not dawn this dreary winter morning, until seven o'clock, and the period had arrived when it was fitting that Euthanasia should seek Castruccio. ”

“ Northern forests put on a glory of gold and red after the frost has touched them with its destroying hand, and the winter is near. Dying suns diffuse a strange brightness, and the spirit of man, when passing out of sight, often radiates a heavenly splendor.
So it was that the soul of Cartice Doring never gave forth so much of sweetness as in the last days of her stay here. ”

“ Rang out as if from the stony lips Whence life had parted in drear eclipse, As if the soul of the dead man cried Again unto Christ the Crucified. The rose had fled from her cheeks so red, But still she knelt by his side and said, Under her breath, “I must understand Whether from heaven or sea or land Comes that cry, ‘Christus!’”
She laid her hand on the pulseless breast! What fluttered beneath the crimson vest? A bird with plumage of green and gold, Nestling away from the piercing cold, [166] Was folded close to the silent heart From which it had felt the life depart ”

“ As the Spirits continue their song, accompanying the watches of the night, the dawn approaches to the ear of mortal men calmly and gently, but to the sense of Spirits, the march of the hours is heard as a storm: the gigantic rock-gates of the East creak fearfully; Phœbus rolls his chariot wheels in thunder; and eye and ear are startled at the strong coming of the day. ”

“ All spring through they falter and follow, Wander, and beckon the roving tide, Wheel and float with the veering swallow, Lift you a voice from the blue hillside. Marian Drury, Marian Drury, How are the marshes full of the rain! April over the Norland now Bugles for rapture, and rouses pain,— Halts before the forsaken dwelling, Where in the twilight, too spent to roam, Love, whom the fingers of death are quelling, Cries you a cheer from the Norland home. ”

“ That angry cloud that left us, driven away before the conquering Spring, now lowers above the northward mountain; we see its livid face and feel its blighting breath—“a hard, dull bitterness of cold,” that sweeps along the moor in noisy triumph, that howls and tears among the trembling trees, and smothers out the last smouldering flame of faded Autumn. ”