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The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 1
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Yea, will speak to me then, and I shall hear.
Not yet like him, how can I hear his words?
[Stopping by the crib, and bending over the child.]
My darling child! God's little daughter, drest
In human clothes, that light may thus be clad
In shining, so to reach my human eyes!
Come as a little Christ from heaven to earth,
To call me father, that my heart may know
What father means, and turn its eyes to God!
Sometimes I feel, when thou art clinging to me,
How all unfit this heart of mine to have
The guardianship of a bright thing like thee,
Come to entice, allure me back to God
By flitting round me, gleaming of thy home,
And radiating of thy purity
Into my stained heart; which unto thee
Shall ever show the father, answering
The divine childhood dwelling in thine eyes.
O how thou teachest me with thy sweet ways,
All ignorant of wherefore thou art come,
And what thou art to me, my heavenly ward,
Whose eyes have drunk that secret place's light
And pour it forth on me! God bless his own!
[He resumes his walk, singing in a low voice.]
My child woke crying from her sleep;
I bended o'er her bed,
And soothed her, till in slumber deep
She from the darkness fled.
And as beside my child I stood,
A still voice said in me—
"Even thus thy Father, strong and good,
Is bending over thee."
SCENE II.—Rooms in Lord Seaford's house. A large company; dancers; gentlemen looking on
1_st Gentleman_.
Henry, what dark-haired queen is that? She moves
As if her body were instinct with thought,
Moulded to motion by the music's waves,
As floats the swan upon the swelling lake;
Or as in dreams one sees an angel move,
Sweeping on slow wings through the buoyant air,
Then folding them, and turning on his track.
2_nd_.
You seem inspired; nor can I wonder at it;
She is a glorious woman; and such eyes!
Think—to be loved by such a woman now!
1_st_.
You have seen her, then, before: what is her name?
2_nd_.
I saw her once; but could not learn her name.
3_rd_.
She is the wife of an Italian count,
Who for some cause, political I think,
Took refuge in this country. His estates
The Church has eaten up, as I have heard:
Mephisto says the Church has a good stomach.
2_nd_.
How do they live?
3_rd_.
Poorly, I should suppose;
For she gives Lady Gertrude music-lessons:
That's how they know her.—Ah, you should hear her sing!
2_nd_.
If she sings as she looks or as she dances,
It were as well for me I did not hear.
3_rd_.
If Count Lamballa followed Lady Seaford
To heaven, I know who'd follow her on earth.
SCENE III.—Julian's room. LILY asleep
Julian.
I wish she would come home. When the child wakes,
I cannot bear to see her eyes first rest
On me, then wander searching through the room,
And then return and rest. And yet, poor Lilia!
'Tis nothing strange thou shouldst be glad to go
From this dull place, and for a few short hours
Have thy lost girlhood given back to thee;
For thou art very young for such hard things
As poor men's wives in cities must endure.
I am afraid the thought is not at rest,
But rises still, that she is not my wife—
Not truly, lawfully. I hoped the child
Would kill that fancy; but I fear instead,
Not yet like him, how can I hear his words?
[Stopping by the crib, and bending over the child.]
My darling child! God's little daughter, drest
In human clothes, that light may thus be clad
In shining, so to reach my human eyes!
Come as a little Christ from heaven to earth,
To call me father, that my heart may know
What father means, and turn its eyes to God!
Sometimes I feel, when thou art clinging to me,
How all unfit this heart of mine to have
The guardianship of a bright thing like thee,
Come to entice, allure me back to God
By flitting round me, gleaming of thy home,
And radiating of thy purity
Into my stained heart; which unto thee
Shall ever show the father, answering
The divine childhood dwelling in thine eyes.
O how thou teachest me with thy sweet ways,
All ignorant of wherefore thou art come,
And what thou art to me, my heavenly ward,
Whose eyes have drunk that secret place's light
And pour it forth on me! God bless his own!
[He resumes his walk, singing in a low voice.]
My child woke crying from her sleep;
I bended o'er her bed,
And soothed her, till in slumber deep
She from the darkness fled.
And as beside my child I stood,
A still voice said in me—
"Even thus thy Father, strong and good,
Is bending over thee."
SCENE II.—Rooms in Lord Seaford's house. A large company; dancers; gentlemen looking on
1_st Gentleman_.
Henry, what dark-haired queen is that? She moves
As if her body were instinct with thought,
Moulded to motion by the music's waves,
As floats the swan upon the swelling lake;
Or as in dreams one sees an angel move,
Sweeping on slow wings through the buoyant air,
Then folding them, and turning on his track.
2_nd_.
You seem inspired; nor can I wonder at it;
She is a glorious woman; and such eyes!
Think—to be loved by such a woman now!
1_st_.
You have seen her, then, before: what is her name?
2_nd_.
I saw her once; but could not learn her name.
3_rd_.
She is the wife of an Italian count,
Who for some cause, political I think,
Took refuge in this country. His estates
The Church has eaten up, as I have heard:
Mephisto says the Church has a good stomach.
2_nd_.
How do they live?
3_rd_.
Poorly, I should suppose;
For she gives Lady Gertrude music-lessons:
That's how they know her.—Ah, you should hear her sing!
2_nd_.
If she sings as she looks or as she dances,
It were as well for me I did not hear.
3_rd_.
If Count Lamballa followed Lady Seaford
To heaven, I know who'd follow her on earth.
SCENE III.—Julian's room. LILY asleep
Julian.
I wish she would come home. When the child wakes,
I cannot bear to see her eyes first rest
On me, then wander searching through the room,
And then return and rest. And yet, poor Lilia!
'Tis nothing strange thou shouldst be glad to go
From this dull place, and for a few short hours
Have thy lost girlhood given back to thee;
For thou art very young for such hard things
As poor men's wives in cities must endure.
I am afraid the thought is not at rest,
But rises still, that she is not my wife—
Not truly, lawfully. I hoped the child
Would kill that fancy; but I fear instead,
Другие электронные книги автора George MacDonald
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