Sallie Bridges - Avilion lyrics

"The island valley of Avilion, Where falls not hail, nor rain, nor any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea!" Tennyson's "Morte d'Arthur." "ARTHUR should come again!" the prophet said The kingdom waited long, and each great soul That star-like rose upon the nation's sky Was watch'd for token of expected fate That should achieve the change and good desired. But never one fulfill'd the perfect dream Of stainless character and lofty aim That in tradition lived and hoping minds. And, reading this, I murmur'd to myself, "'Tis better so: the people must be great That keep such standard of high excellence Their best do never reach! So let me use The gift the fairies gave me at my birth To set in common view, with Saxon words, A living image of the ideal knight, Lest men forget, amid these restless times Of hollow shows and worshipping of gold, That truth and pureness once were in the world, Nor lose their faith that they will come again! And so I sang the songs of other days, -- Have ta'en to modern homes and modern hearts The ghosts of ancient dead that lived their lives As grandly or as weakly as their age Or natures wrought on them! with my witch-wand I open'd Fancy's portal, and led forth In their own shapes, to breathe earth's air again, The storied men who had become a name, And group'd them all about the British king, As once they circled him at Table Round, And that fair queen, so frail because she loved, That, false herself, kept her one lover true, Whom Arthur trusted, blind to his great wrong, Since his large, royal soul in others saw Only the good and truth was in his own. And then I said, with that vague, quenchless thirst We dreamers know when mingles sorrow's shade With discontent at our own labor done, That seems so poor beside the vivid thought, "And what reward is mine for this my work? Men will forget it in a little while, And when this brain is dust, how few will care That once it throbb'd with Inspiration's heat! Would I could go away from all the doubt, The pain and turmoil of this weary life, Into Avilion, where the good king went, And rest me in the Happy Isle, like him!" And so I closed my tired eyes, that press'd Two tears between the lids, that, as they touch'd The level ground, into a wonder grew; For, lo! a lake that spread its waters up Nigh to my feet, while through the sunset glow A black barge hove in sight, like one that came For wounded Arthur, only now it bore No fair, crown'd queens, no hooded, weeping dames! Only a pallid steersman stood at helm, With white garb stirless as a statue's robe, That seem'd to sweep adown o'er folded wings. The boat came slowly to the coast, and paused. I inland turn'd an instant's sight, and saw That darkness gather'd o'er the fields, and light Was all before, then stepp'd into the stern, And o'er the rising tide the vessel moved. We floated on; my comrade never spoke, And I sat silent, with a lonely sense Born from the far-off look in his sad eyes. But once, remembering Charon, I arose And laid a coin within his idle hand; He gazed at it in wonder, curved his arm, And dropp'd it in the waves; and, half abash'd, I turn'd towards the glories of the sky. The slanting rays shot up the azure arch In silver streaks that waned in motes away, Tinging the fleecy clouds with rainbow hues; We sail'd on golden ripples, whose light foam Died on th' horizon's verge, where, half in heaven, A purple island hung with rosy shores; While stretching off on either side there shone White lustrous mountains edged with peaks of fire. We came anear at last. Delicious airs Play'd o'er my brow, that brought a faint, rare sound Of distant harmony; while through my limbs New vigor ran, that sent the dancing blood Tingling in languid veins, as each heart-throb More quick and eager with expectance grew. In buoyant feelings I had long forgot, My youth and hope came back to me once more; And, like the slow uprising of a mist, There roll'd away the darkness that was laid Between my mind and things I strove to solve; Deep, secret meanings dawn'd upon my brain, That had been dull'd with dust, but in this clime Saw clear the hidden truth. Sorrow and pain, That woke such wild, blind prayers, look'd only now As ministers to purify desire; And e'en the earth's great riddle that we beat Rebellious will 'gainst, -- ah! I may not show What grand significance e'en evil took! And, as I leap'd upon the shining beach, I cried, "How few in that old world of woe E'er dream'd the Happy Island lay so near!" And such rich rapture stirr'd my grateful soul, I bent my knee in worship's ecstasy, Thanking my God that, after years of toil To know the Truth, and fallings by the way, My Faith in Him had stood the test of Thought! But most my spirit thank'd Him that He is! And, as I rose, one that I knew stood by, And look'd in mine with eyes as tender, soft As when we parted -- ah! so long ago! "I knew that you would come!" he said, when first The bliss of meeting yielded feeling words; "And I have waited here; for all the joys Of this fair home were incomplete and poor Till I had you once more, my life's beloved! See these green lawns, these shaded, quiet woods, Where we will walk together, as of yore, And never change or part, or weep or yearn! Was it not worth the tears we shed on earth To love forever in Avilion thus?" And so we talk'd a while, until I ask'd, "I marvel that 'tis light here still! 'twas dusk Beyond there when I started! Does the sun Ne'er set on this bless'd land?" He gently said, "At eventime there shall be light!" and then I knew no night would e'er dispel the glow That rested on this isle from unseen source. And afterwards I question'd of the prince, If yet he dwelt here while the nations wait; And my dear comrade took my willing hand, And led me through the shadowy lanes, wherein He said we might meet Arthur and the queen. I think mine eyes had glimpses of the views, Through opening glades, that once my dreams believed Were parts of all fair countries far away That I had never seen, -- green slopes and swells, And high hills veil'd in floating, silver mists, And countless waterfalls, and limpid streams Where trees droop'd o'er and shaded lotus buds; And 'neath our feet and all about us bloom'd Rich, unknown blossoms, and the twining leaves A dewy freshness bore; and in the midst I walk'd in silent rapture, such as comes To human hearts in love's divinest hour, When speechless bliss o'erfloods the tender gaze And lifts th' aspiring soul through joy to God! And there was nothing of the sadness here That stole through all the Nature I had known, And made it ever seem like some vain show In which a spirit grieves; but flowers and sky, Meadow and stream, were freely, fully bright, As if the soul of happiness inspired Their life and beauty, where no sorrow came; And all the higher pleasures of mere sense Were so etherealized, we could but feel A fine expansion, taintless of all flesh! And, as we walk'd together as of yore, Slow pacing mid the avenues of trees, Then through an arching vista I beheld A street of gold that ran 'twixt crystal domes, And two that came adown its sparkling slope; And, as we drew anear, I saw that one Was grand in presence, kingly, and yet wore Such courteous, kindly mien, that one who begg'd Might call him "brother," though he graced a throne! And clinging to his arm, with white hands link'd, And small head thrown aback with all its wealth Of flowing hair, that thus the loving eyes Might seek the lofty face, was one that seem'd The very fairest creature e'er I saw. "Ah! see! they come!" my dear companion said, "The king and Guinevere!" and, as he ceased, We met them face to face, and Arthur spake To one he knew a stranger, in sweet tones Of simple welcome; and then, mid our talk, He ask'd, at last, "Do those you left behind Still keep a thought of me? Do men still hope That I will come again, as Merlin told, To do my best to win for them the right?" And when I drew a picture of the times, And how the nations groan'd because was found No strong, true leader pure in life and aim, He turn'd aside, as if to muse alone; And one came slowly up between the glades, On whose worn face there shone a holy smile, That might have been a seraph's, and stood by The while the queen ask'd, with a watchful glance Towards the prince, "Do men on earth still love As in the olden time? Do ladies keep Their faith the same in spite of keen despair?" I answer'd not, but fondly clasp'd the hand That touch'd mine own, and something in our looks Spoke more than words unto her woman-sense. "Ah, well!" she said, without a sigh, or shade On her smooth brow, "we too loved well as you In years that are a dream, Isonde and I! But then we loved with wrong, and pray'd to God, Long ere we died, to wipe our deep sin out; And when we came here, all our feelings clung Whereto they ought, ere led astray by flesh! See, now I stand by Launcelot, and no thrill Stirs him or me: I love my lord the king!" And I, remembering oft-repeated tales Of their great pa**ion, then towards Launcelot turn'd, A sudden pity quivering on my mouth; But he, with glowing brow and shining eyes, Look'd up as if a vision met his view, And murmur'd softly, through his parted lips, "My God! my God! I love but Thee, my God!" And just then Arthur came to me, and spoke Like one whose mind has measured some resolve And master'd it: "The time at last is ripe! I will go back again! The people need A chief whose soul knows glories that will lift His deeds and motives o'er all petty price. I wore a crown before, and felt its thorns; And I have known since what it is to live In heavens won by duty: so I go To lead the way to truth through seas of blood! Come with me, while I sit me down once more Among the knights that shared my Table Round; For who may tell if I can keep myself Unscath'd by sin, and here return again? My own dear queen! I never thought to see A tear in sweet Avilion! Pray to God, Who sends me on His errand, that His love Shall compa** me about until the end; 'Twill not be long to wait: you know, beloved, A thousand years in His sight are a day! And so we went together to a vale Bosom'd in verdant hills, where waters lay, And round about, upon the lilied lawns, A goodly company of noble men. And Arthur sat him on a rising knoll, With Guinevere's bow'd head upon his breast, And told his high resolve, and ask'd of each Some counsel of their wisdom, that his soul Might carry back into the lives of men The teachings won through d**h by heavenly thought. And as they throng'd about him with deep words, And deeper meanings, answering to his need With wondrous axioms that each one had wrung The pith of from a sharp experience, I soon was 'ware that, mid the knightly shades That once for right clash'd swords at Camelot, Come large-brow'd, lifted heads, light-crown'd like kings; And these with tuneful voices utter'd slow Such music, knowledge, and prophetic sense, I scarce knew which most marvellous seem'd to hear, So blended with a simple, quiet ease Was tone melodious and thought sublime. And in a pause my comrade softly said, "These are the poets, dear: before, we knew Their minds by flashes; but from their own lips, Oft wandering by these everlasting streams, We now shall share the fulness of their growth, And hear old strains completed that were left With something wanting in our other sphere!" The poets! O my poets! how I long'd To see your faces once! How your sweet words Have stirr'd the pulses of my hot young heart Or still'd its fever! Masters, singers, skalds! Ye were my friends that never play'd me false, The teachers ever pointing to the True! Your names lie gather'd in my inmost soul, As cherish'd as the flowers that we keep In token of great happiness and love! O souls inspired, through whom amid my woe I stretch'd my hands to God! I look'd on you, Saw your grand foreheads, heard your voices clear, And could not tell, for gazing in your eyes, If white shapes hovering round your steps were they Whose names your songs made glorious for aye, The women ye had loved, or angels charm'd From other heavens by the music here. I saw ye all, my bards! ay, mine and earth's, God's and eternity's! Albeit I saw Where thorns had pierced your brows, and naked feet Were scarr'd from treading ploughshares red with pain! My stately Sophocles with Shakspeare walk'd, Two royal natures mated, with a space Betwixt their purple and the next who came; Yet they were men too grand to look on men, And blinded that they should but see the gods! One sang to Grecian harp the world's child-faith, And one its manhood's to a loftier lyre! Homer and Milton, with majestic eyes, That saw us tremble at their awful runes! Then Sappho, with her hand in Ta**o's twined, Her fruitless pa**ion spent in that wild leap When flashing of her robe the ages thrill'd! And he sublime through sorrow born of love, Without a speck of prison-dust to float 'Twixt his fond hope and glories of his dream! And crush'd Italia's boast, that sets her high Above the thrones that cannot seize at least Her great crown-gems, outshining all their power! Virgil and Dante, with the sadness fled Their human brows once caught among the lost! Then Spenser, Chaucer, that had lived so near To Nature's heart, they show'd us how our own Throbb'd pulse to pulse with hers! While two grand forms Came, with a prince between, who loved them well, And made himself a prouder tomb than his Of the same name who slept enthroned at Aix! For, dropping out the sceptre from his hand, He laid him down at last betwixt the dust That bore eternal fames, and link'd his grave On either side to sacred soil for aye! The rare completed man of many lives, Whose eager search strove ever towards the truth, And sang the gleams he caught in d**hless notes, Great Goethe show'd in meanings of his speech That earth's unquiet quest was found at last! And that fine nature, brother of his mind, True lover of the beautiful and free, Schiller, who trod the highest paths of Art, With Carl of Weimar looking upon both As Saul might once have gazed upon the seer That pour'd anointing oil upon his head! Byron and Burns, those pa**ionate, rich souls, That here, unfetter'd from all scorn and ill And weakness of the flesh, had grown sublime By living purely out their higher selves; Inspired of genius still, whose burning words Startled a glance of fire to Arthur's eyes, That faded into awe as solemn rose The voice of one amid the moment's hush That might have been a prophet of the Lord To shake and gather spirits in the world, If time and reason could have cast from life The hot dreams of his youth ere d**h had led His seeing mind unto the Fount of Light! And after Shelley, with his trembling lips Uttering low music into language breathed, Endymion pa**'d, who left to mark his rest The record of a name in water writ, And found his high thoughts known beyond the stars! And as they moved aside, they group'd around A fair, slight form but late come in their midst, That stood within the circle of their tones Calmly as one who long had known each soul, Yet with a gladness shining on her face Like to an exile's who is welcomed home By old familiar voices, answering all With some remember'd token of the past! The mighty ancients spoke to her in words As musical as choruses they sung; The soul-blind minstrels of dim, distant days Stood side by side with martyrs who had mix'd The last triumphant strains of holy lives With hatred's incense of ascending flames; And all sublime and tender hearts that loved And gave love language in their native tongues That won new harmony from notes divine; And they who play'd on lutes by sorrow tuned, Or lifted nations, in a burst of song, From deep despair to heights of conquering faith, -- These talk'd with her as one whom their blest sight Saw worthy evermore to walk with them In amaranthine fields 'neath trees that bear The leaves of knowledge and the fruit of life! And some there were that breathed in broken sounds Such thrilling, earnest thoughts, I could but feel That they had been the voiceless ones of earth, Trying their new-won power with timid lips, As children stammer ere they learn to speak! Yet, as all cluster'd round the central shape, As in the skies the constellations range About a single star, ofttimes less bright And smaller than the suns that orbit it, She spoke some reverent word that drew reply, Pointing her hands towards the far-off world, Then towards the glowing beams of changeless light Wherein the good king sat among his knights; And all the streams and woods, and hills and vales, Gave solemn echo to the glad refrain, Suiting all time when wrong by right is slain, Of "Pan, Great Pan is dead! Pan, Pan is dead!" And, as the last note floated low away, Arthur arose, and shoreward turn'd his steps, And all the company went with him there; Launcelot and Galahad on either side Walk'd, with their lustrous faces, though one show'd That pureness had belong'd to it from birth, And to the other came through pain and d**h; Then Bors and Bedivere, Sir Gareth, Kaye, Tristan and Pellinore, Gawaine and Urre, And all the other proud, familiar names That shook the lists with shouting in old days. And the fair queen after quick rain of tears, With head uplifted like to one who sees The bow of promise, all the storm forgot In listening to the music of the bards. And when we came upon the sparkling beach, The barge was waiting, but the helmsman now Was a great seraph, crown'd, with wings outspread, Whose glory circled him as rays the sun. And Arthur enter'd in, and round his form The angel's radiance made wondrous light. And some would fain have shared with him again This new adventure; but he simply said, "'Twas written I should go alone! my work Needs not that more be banish'd from their heaven! Nay, nay, dear friends! It is the will of God!" And at the sacred Name all bow'd their heads And let him pa**, and, as the vessel heaved On waves of golden light, the air seem'd full Of glorious faces and of snowy plumes, And over us unnumber'd voices join'd In such sweet harmony, it swell'd the tears In speechless ecstasy from my touch'd heart. And then -- and then -- was it the stirring sail Or sudden silence broke the marvellous spell? Alas! I know not! only, in a flash, I found myself once more within this world, On which the shades had gather'd into night, And mid the throng that wait the Coming King!