Carmen Saeculare

PROLOGUE. THE EXILE. “ The Sun, surmounted by a red rose, shining on a mossy bank.” VER the western water lies a solar fire, Rapt lives and drunken ecstasies of sad desire ; Poppies and lonely flag-flowers haunt the desolate Marsh-strand : the herons gaunt still contemplate What was delight, is ruin, may breed love again, Even as darkness breeds the day : when life is slain. * * * * * * * O who will hear my chant, my cry ; my voice who hear, Even in this weary misery, this danker mere, Me, in mine exile, who am driven from yonder mountains Blue-gray, and highland airs of heaven, and moving fountains ? Me, who shall hear me ? Am I lost, a broken vessel, Caught in the storm of lies and tossed, forbid to wrestle ? Shall not the sun rise lively yet, the rose yet bloom, The crown yet lift me, life beget flowers on the tomb ? I was born fighter. Think you then my task is done, O 5