Collected Works (Vol. III)

16 THE STAR AND THE GARTER Gone down in the glare of the sun ; and the twilight perfumes Steal soft in the wake of the One that abides in the glooms. Walking he is, and slowly; thoughtful he seems, Pure and happy and holy; as one would who dreams In the day-time of deep delights no kin to the day, But a flower new-born of the night’s in Hecate’s way. Love is his name, and he bears the ill quiver no more. He has aged as we all, and despairs; but the lady who bore Him, Eros, to ruin the ages, has softened at heart ; He is tamed by the art of the sages, the magical art. No longer he burns and blisters, consumes and corrodes ; He hath Muses nine for sisters; the holy abodes Of the maiden are open to him, for his wrath is grown still ; His eyes with weeping are dim; he hath changed his will. We know him; and Venus sinks, a star in the West ; A star in the even, that thinks it shall fall into rest. Let it be so, then! lyrical spears ! Huntress, O Artemis wise, be upon him who hears ! I have heard thy clear voice in the moon; I have borne it afar ; I have tuned it to many a tune; thou hast showed me a Star, And the star thou hast showed me I follow through uttermost night. Arise, O moon of the I have shaken my spear at Apollo; his ruinous might I have mocked, I have mastered. All hail to the Star of Delight That is tender and fervid and frail, and avails me aright ! Hail to thee, symbol of love, assurance and promise of peace ! Stand fast in the skies above, till the skies are abolished and cease ! And for me, may I never forget how things came well as they are! It was long I had wandered yet ere my eyes found out the star. Be silent, love, and abide; the wanton strings must go To the vain tumultuous tide of the spirit’s overflow. I sing and sing to the world; then silence soon Be about us clasped and furled in the light of the moon. Forget not, never forget the terrible song I have sung ; How the eager fingers fret the lute, and loose the tongue Tinkles delicate things, faint thoughts of a futile past— We are past on eagle wings, and the silence is here at last. The last low wail of the lyre, be it soft with a tear For the children of earth and fire that have brought us here. Give praise, O masterful maid, to Nina, and all as they die! The moon makes blackest of shade: the star’s in the swarthiest sky. | Be silent, O radiant martyr! Let the world fade slowly afar! | But—had it not been for the Garter, I might never have seen the Star. ON OTN ATNOOQN ETZEBEIZ TOTTON EQ POAON! KATAITEAAQ ZOI 1 The quotation is altered from Acts xvii. 23, ‘‘ Whom therefore (7.e. because of the poem) thou dost ignorantly worship, him do I Rose declare unto thee.” poet’s wife. Rose was the name of the