BUONCONTE
Sister, the sun has ceased to shine; By companies of twain and trine Stars gather; from the sea The moon comes momently.
On all the roads that ring our hill The sighing and the hymns are still: It is our time to gain Strength for to-morrow"s pain.
Yet still your eyes are wholly bent Upon the way that Virgil went, Following Sordello"s sign, With the dark Florentine.
Night now has barred their upward track: There where the mountain-side folds back And in the Vale of Flowers The Princes count their hours
Those three friends sit in the clear starlight With the green-clad angels left and right,-- Soul made by wakeful soul More earnest for the goal.
So let us, sister, though our place Is barren of that Valley"s grace, Sit hand in hand, till we Seem rich as those friends be.
II
LA PIA
Brother, "t were sweet your hand to feel In mine; it would a little heal The shame that makes me poor, And dumb at the heart"s core.
But where our spirits felt Love"s dearth, Down on the green and pleasant earth, Remains the fleshly sh.e.l.l, Love"s garment tangible.
So now our hands have naught to say: Heart unto heart some other way Must utter forth its pain, Must glee or comfort gain.
Ah, no! For souls like you and me Some comfort waits, but never glee: Not yours the young men"s singing In Heaven, at the bride-bringing;
Not mine, beside G.o.d"s living waters, Dance of the marriageable daughters, The laughter and the ease Beneath His summer trees.
III
BUONCONTE
In fair Arezzo"s halls and bowers My Giovanna speeds her hours Delicately, nor cares To shorten by her prayers
My days upon this mount of ruth: If those who come from earth speak sooth, Though still I call and call, She does not heed at all.
And if aright your words I read At Dante"s pa.s.sing, he you wed Dipped from the drains of h.e.l.l The marriage hydromel.
O therefore, while the moon intense Holds yonder dreaming sea suspense, And round the shadowy coasts Gather the wistful ghosts,
Let us sit quiet all the night, And wonder, wonder on the light Worn by those spirits fair Whom Love has not left bare.
IV
LA PIA
Even as theirs, the chance was mine To meet and mate beneath Love"s sign, To feel in soul and sense The solemn influence
Which, breathed upon a man or maid, Maketh forever unafraid, Though life with death unite That spirit to affright,--
Which lifts the changed heart high up, As the priest lifts the changed cup, Boldens the feet to pace Before G.o.d"s proving face.
O just a thought beyond the blue The wings of the dove yearned down and through!
Even now I hear and hear How near they were, how near!
I murmur not. Rightly disgraced, The weak hand stretched abroad in haste For gifts barely allowed The tacit, strong, and proud.
But therefore was I so intent To watch where Dante onward went With the Roman spirit pure And the grave troubadour,
Because my mind was busy then With the loves that wait those gentle men: Cunizza one; and one Bice, above the sun;
And for the other, more and less Than woman"s near-felt tenderness, A million voices dim Praising him, praising him.
V
BUONCONTE
The waves that wash this mountain"s base Were crimson in the sun"s low rays, When, singing high and fast, An angel downward pa.s.sed,
To bid some patient soul arise And make it fair for Paradise; And upward, so attended, That soul its journey wended;
Yet you, who in these lower rings Wait for the coming of such wings, Turned not your eyes to view Whether they came for you,
But watched, but watched great Virgil stayed Greeting Sordello"s couchant shade, Which to salute him rose Like lion from its pose;
While humbly by those lords of song Stood he whose living limbs are strong To mount where Mary"s bliss Is shed on Beatrice.
On him your gaze was fastened, more Than on those great names Mantua bore; Your eyes hold the distress Still, of that wistfulness.
Yea, fit he seemed much love to rouse!
His pilgrim lips and iron brows Grew like a woman"s, dim, While you held speech with him;
And troubled came his mortal breath The while I told him of my death; His looks were changed and wan When Virgil led him on.
VI
LA PIA
E"er since Casella came this morn, Newly o"er yonder ocean borne, Bound upward for the choir Who purge themselves in fire,
And from that meinie he was of Stayed backward at my cry of love, To speak awhile with me Of life and Tuscany,
And, parting, told us how e"er day Was done, Dante would come this way, With mortal feet, to find His sweetheart, sky-enshrined,--
E"er since Casella spoke such news My heart has lain in a golden muse, Picturing him and her, What starry ones they were.