But touched his lute wherein was audible Then the dark ripples spread to waving hair, II And now Love sang: but his was such a song, They looked on us, and knew us and were known; While fast together, alive from the abyss, Clung the soul-wrung implacable close kiss; And pity of self through all made broken moan Which said, "For once, for once, for once alone!"' And still Love sang, and what he sang was this: III "O ye, all ye that walk in Willowwood, That walk with hollow faces burning white; Ere ye again, who so in vain have wooed With tear-spurge wan, with blood-wort burning red: Alas! if ever such a pillow could The leaves drop loosened where the heart-stain glows, So when the song died did the kiss unclose; As its gray eyes; and if it ever may Till both our heads were in his aureole. LXV. KNOWN IN VAIN As two whose love, first foolish, widening scope, Yet, at their meetings, laugh not as they laugh'd In speech; nor speak, at length; but sitting oft Steep deep the soul in sleep till she were O Lord of work and peace! O Lord of life! GOBLIN MARKET* Whose wave, low down, I did not stoop to CHRISTINA ROSSETTI (1830-1894) But lo! the path is missed, I must go back, And thirst to drink when next I reach the spring Which once I stained, which since may have grown black. Yet though no light be left nor bird now sing LXX. THE HILL SUMMIT This feast-day of the sun, his altar there And now that I have climbed and won this height, I must tread downward through the sloping shade And travel the bewildered tracks till night. LXXIX. THE MONOCHORD* Is it this sky's vast vault or ocean's sound Holds my breath quailing on the bitter bound? flame, The lifted shifted steeps and all the way?That draws round me at last this wind-warm space, And in regenerate rapture turns my face A musical instrument of one string, hence, unity. harmony here apparently used to symbolize the ultimate merging of separate lives into one Life. Morning and evening Wild free-born cranberries, In summer weather,- Come buy, come buy: Our grapes fresh from the vine, Sweet to tongue and sound to eye; Evening by evening Among the brookside rushes, With clasping arms and cautioning lips, He * Of this poem. William M. Rossetti. Christina's brother, writes: "I have more than once heard Christina say that she did not mean anything profound by this fairy tale-it is not a moral apologue consistently carried out in detail. Still the incidents are suggestive, and different minds may be likely to read different messages into them." remarks further that the central point of the story, read merely as a story, is often missed. Lizzie's service to her sister lies in procuring for her a second taste of the goblin fruits, such as those who have once tasted them ever afterward long for, and pine away with longing. but which the goblins themselves will not voluntarily accord. 'We must not look at goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots?' 'Come buy,' call the goblins Hobbling down the glen. 'Oh,' cried Lizzie, 'Laura, Laura, You should not peep at goblin men.' Lizzie covered up her eyes, Covered close lest they should look; Down the glen tramp little men. One bears a plate, One lugs a golden dish Of many pounds' weight. One whisked a tail, One tramped at a rat's pace, One crawled like a snail, One like a wombat1 prowled obtuse and furry, They sounded kind and full of loves Laura stretched her gleaming neck Backwards up the mossy glen When they reached where Laura was Leering at each other, One began to weave a crown Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown 50 (Men sell not such in any town); One heaved the golden weight Of dish and fruit to offer her: 'Come buy, come buy,' was still their cry. Laura stared but did not stir, Longed but had no money. The whisk-tailed merchant bade her taste The cat-faced purr'd, The rat-paced spoke a word 100 110 60 Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard; One parrot-voiced and jolly Cried 'Pretty Goblin' still for 'Pretty Polly'; But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste: To take were to purloin: I have no copper in my purse, I have no silver either, 70 And all my gold is on the furze That shakes in windy weather Above the rusty heather.' 'You have much gold upon your head,' 'Buy from us with a golden curl.' 80 Stronger than man-rejoicing wine, 90 Lizzie met her at the gate Full of wise upbraidings: 120 130 140 How she met them in the moonlight, Where summer ripens at all hours? But ever in the moonlight She pined and pined away; Sought them by night and day, Neat like bees, as sweet and busy, 150 Fetched in honey, milked the cows, Found them no more, but dwindled and grew Talked as modest maidens should: grey; Then fell with the first snow, While to this day no grass will grow Where she lies low: I planted daisies there a year ago You should not loiter so.' 'Nay, hush,' said Laura: Yet my mouth waters still: I'll bring you plums to-morrow What peaches with a velvet nap, Lizzie with an open heart, Laura in an absent dream, One content, one sick in part; 210 One warbling for the mere bright day's delight, 160 One longing for the night. Laura turned cold as stone To find her sister heard that cry alone, 'Come buy our fruits, come buy.' Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit? 260 Her tree of life drooped from the root: She night and morning Beside the brook, along the glen, Poor Laura could not hear; Trudged home, her pitcher dripping all the Who should have been a bride; way; So crept to bed, and lay Silent till Lizzie slept; Then sat up in a passionate yearning, But who for joys brides hope to have Fell sick and died In her gay prime, In earliest winter time, And gnashed her teeth for baulked desire, and With the first glazing rime, 310 320 Kissed Laura, crossed the heath with clumps of furze At twilight, halted by the brook: And for the first time in her life Began to listen and look. Laughed every goblin 280 When they spied her peeping: Came towards her hobbling, Flying, running, leaping, Puffing and blowing, Chuckling, clapping, crowing, Clucking and gobbling, Mopping and mowing,5 Full of airs and graces. Pulling wry faces, Demure grimaces, Cat-like and rat-like, 290 Ratel- and wombat-like, Snail-paced in a hurry, Parrot-voiced and whistler, Helter skelter, hurry skurry, | Squeezed and caressed her: 300 Russet and dun, Bob at our cherries, 330 340 350 5 See The Tempest, IV, i, 47, and note (page 184). |