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Page 1 of 11904 · PDF PAGE 53
WHY JESUS WEPT 39 SIR PERCY. What of this chaplain ? ANGELA. What of your guardian ? SIR PERCY. Curses of hell ! ANGELA. Hush ! hush ! sweet words must come from such sweet lips. SIR PERCY. What shall I do ? ANGELA. You leave your fate already in my hands ? Nay, but once married, you’ll be master then ! SIR PERCY. Shame, sweetheart ! ANGELA. You have the strength of mind to defy convention : we dine together : we — O love, how dare you look such looks as these ? — At moonset ride you back, and none the wiser. This always : for did we marry, the…
1904 · PDF PAGE 61
WHY JESUS WEPT 47 I go, as a tooth torn from a jaw. Expect I quell this folly in a little while And come again — to Paris, said you, sweet ? CARRUTHERS. Leave your mad chatter with that ghastly hag ! You fool, the woman is sixty if an hour. SIR PERCY. My answer to my promised bride is this. He kisses her. So, sir ! To you, this to remember by. He shoots Carruthers in the leg. MOLLY. Oh, Percy, Percy, am I not your love ? SIR PERCY. I am sorry, heartily, Miss Tyson. MOLLY. O ! SIR PERCY. I did indeed speak foolishly. ANGELA, aside. Your purse !
1904 · PDF PAGE 34
…tay ! In the wood By the waterway, stands A delicate fairy ! Molly Tyson is discovered. I’ll steal from above, Watch her. How good ! How sweet of her hands ! How dainty and airy ! How perfect, how kind ! How bright in her thoughts ! How subtle, refined, The least light of her mind ! Let me approach ! O fear ! O sorrow ! I fear to encroach. Scree-king, I borrow Thy frown, thy pride, Thy magical targe. To her side I glide, To the mystical marge Of this lake enchaunted.
1904 · PDF PAGE 44
…psake to obtain To wear my heart upon. Now God is great and gracious ; Here’s medicine for my pain. She has left it ; she has gone ! How sweet the air and spacious !
1904 · PDF PAGE 32
…ne blister ; By arms are one ache ; But my brain is a fire, As erst on the fell, In the hall ; let me dive To the under-abode, Where the sweet-voiced sister
1904 · PDF PAGE 28
…ueen ! O a Queen, for certain ! It is I that ride, Ride in my youth and pride. With a long sword girt to my waist, And a strawberry mare sweet-paced, And a long night with no moon, no star ! I will plunder the traveller from afar ; — Aye ! and find him an ancient sage, Learn all his wisdom, marry his daughter, Become a king and a mage, Lord of Fire, Earth, Air, and Water ! Ho ! my horse, lads ! Away ! To the moor ! Ho ! there’s a fox i’ the hole, that’s sure. Flings swaggering out of the room.
1904 · PDF PAGE 56
42 WHY JESUS WEPT. For ever let us travel so ; To stop so sweet a flight were woe. Even to stop for love’s own sake ; Save my love did it — Then ? well ! well ! Better to rest together, hard Hidden in a corner of the ghyll, Some cavern frosted over close, Some gully vivid with the rose Of love ! The frost our years retard ! The rose — perfume our wonder-will ! But while I sing the moon is up. False moon ! False moon ! So fast to ride. He is not here ! Sure, he is dead ! O moon, reveal that holiest head ! There is much sorrow in love’s cup : Ple…
1904 · PDF PAGE 68
…live heart, My thought ; in all the abodes of sense, The shrines of love and art, The adytum of omnipotence, I am supreme, through thee, sweet Angela ! For all the beauties of the universe, The glories hidden in the flower’s cup, All, all that wakes the soul to worship, verse, Ripe verse, all wines, all dreams that the soft God lifts up : All these are eidola, Mere phantom will ’o the wisps, thy love the real ! There is no more ideal For me ; romance hath shot its bolt ; The badger Jesus skulketh in his holt, Whence let no dog dare draw him ; l…
1904 · PDF PAGE 30
… I Do this unutterable wickedness ? Because that Moina Marjoribanks grins and boasts She will achieve him ? Angela, not so ! For its own sweet, most damnable sake, say yes ! Look to those cheeks, redress the red-gold hair, Awake the giant wit, the master sin That is, for an apple’s sake, Lord of us all : These shall despoil her ; these shall ruin him. Yes, I shall clutch him to these sagging breasts Stained, bruised, — enough ! — and take his life in mine — Ugh ! pleasure of Hell ! Sir Percy Percivale, Here is a strumpet. Ha ! have you a sword …