Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TWO FRESCOES, by FORD MADOX FORD Poet's Biography First Line: Down there where europe's arms Last Line: Rose over africa. Alternate Author Name(s): Hueffer, Ford Hermann; Hueffer, Ford Madox Subject(s): Africa; Art & Artists; Courts & Courtiers; Royal Court Life; Royalty; Kings; Queens | ||||||||
It occurred to me that a series of frescoes might arise dealing with the fortunes of Roderick the Goth. Having neither wall nor brushes I have tried to put two of them upon paper. I THE TOWER DOWN there where Europe's arms Stretch out to Africa, Throughout the storms, throughout the calms Of centuries it took the alms Of sun and rain; the loud alarms Of war left it unmoved; and grey And brooding there it watched the strip of foam And fret of ruffled waters, was the home Of the blue rock-dove and the birds o' the main. Coming from Africa The swallows rested on it flying north In spring-time; rested there again, When the days shorten, speeding on the way Homewards to Africa. Back and forth The tiny ships below sped; east and west It was called blest By mariners it guided. Mystery Hung round it like a veil. The ancient Ones, They said, had seen it rise Upwards to the old suns, Upwards to the old skies, When Hercules Did bid it guard those seas. It was a thing of the Past; Stood there untroubled; like a virgin, dreamed; And not a man of all that land but deemed The tower sacred. It was a symbol of an ancient faith, Some half-forgotten righteousness, some Truth, Some virtue in the land whose tillers said: "Whilst that stands unenforced, it is well." Be sure the thing is even so to-day, Our tower doth somewhere unenforced rise Upwards to our old skies. And if we suffer sacrilegious hands To force its innocence, our knell shall ring As it rang out for them on that old day Knolling from Africa. You say it was the King who did this thing, Who sinned against this righteousness. But say: If we stand by and with averted eyes, Or, shrugging shoulders, let our rulers sin Against the very virtue of the race, Who is it then but us must bear the pains Of Nemesis? Ah, yes, it was the King. ... II GOTHS "Let the stars flame by as the flaming earth falls down, Ruined fall the earth as the clanging heavens fall. Clasp me, love of mine; be the jewels in my crown But the firelit tears of Gods, of the Ancient Ones of all." The swart King paced his palace wall And down below the maids at ball Sang in choir at evenfall As they played: "Make our couch of Greece and the footstool for our throne Of Rome, throw scented Spain for the incense of our fire, Bring me all the East for the jewels in my zone, Cast them all together for our leaping wedding pyre." And he looked down Into their cloistral shade And saw, without the tongues of shadow thrown By wall and tree of that sequestered place One girl who had the sunlight on her face, Who swayed and clapped her hands and sang alone. "My father can but die," she sang, "My mother can but weep, This weary town fall blazing down And be a smouldering heap Beneath the flame Where I was wont to keep My weary vigil till my lover came." Chanting in her pauses all the girls within the close Sang to her singing, and their hidden chorus rose Like a wave, fell like falling asleep. And for the King, her voice like fiery wine Set all his pulses throbbing and her face Did dazzle more than did the blood-red sun. "He who would win me, let him woo like this, Flames on his face and the blood upon his hands, Ravish me away when the blackening embers hiss As the red flesh weeps to the brands." That King was one who reignèd there alone Upon those very confines of the world, Where conquering races ebb to sloth and sink As still great rivers sink into the sands. Andfor his fathers had been rav'ning wolves Who coursed through ruin, pestilence and death When all the world flamed red from end to end That ancient song of his destroying race The girl sang stirred the fibres of his frame Till all the earth was red before his face. It had been so the women sang of old To his forgotten sires, and still they sang Within the shadow of his palace wall, The cloister of his grimmest liege of all. And as she sang the ferment worked in her And shook her virgin's voice to jarring notes. Stirring in her the ancient cry of throats Torn with the passions of the ancient days. "Pour me blood o' gods; bring me broken oaths for toys Countless of the cost, of their ruin, of thine own; Drunk with wine and passion, drink thy moment's fill of joys, Godlike, beastlike, manlike, drink and cast thy cup a-down; Lose thy life; give thy crown, Lose thy soul, give thine all, As we sink to death and ruin with the smokeo' worlds for pall." And so she raised her eyes and saw the King Stand frowning down, his face inspired with flame Fro' the west'ring sun. And then the Angelus Chimed out across the silent land of Spain. Beyond the strip of foam the imaums called, And Africa and Europe fell to prayer. But those two gazing in each other's eyes Looked back into the hollows of the years. And as he stood above his brooding land It was as if she saw her sires again. Flames shone upon his face and on his hands Incarnadined; whenas the sun sank down He raised his eyes and seemed to see that Spain Was all on fire with blood upon the roofs. And down to South the inviolate, pallid tower Rose silent, pointing to the crescent moon And that great peering planet called Sohéil, That heralds, as Mahomet's doctors say, His domination and his children's sway, Rose over Africa. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BOTHWELL: PART 4 by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN IN PHARAOH'S TOMB by HAYDEN CARRUTH FOR THE INVESTITURE by CECIL DAY LEWIS ELEGY ASKING THAT IT BE THE LAST; FOR INGRID ERHARDT, 1951-1971 by NORMAN DUBIE L,ENVOI: IN OUR TIME by ERNEST HEMINGWAY VASHTI by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON LINES ON CARMEN SYLVA by EMMA LAZARUS TO CARMEN SYLVA (QUEEN OF ROUMANIA) by EMMA LAZARUS |
|