New Zealand Verse/Ariadne Forsaken
CXLII.
Ariadne Forsaken.
“O sea, that I have laughed with him to sail,
Beauty deserts your hollows and gold caves;
And wind, that lifts the tresses of white waves,
Your sweet-breathed odours fail:
Yea, and green woods; and plashing water-springs;
And flowered lawns, and birds; yea, all fair things
That call Earth Mother; not one can prevail
To soothe the memory that burns, and stings,
Deadens my cheek, and makes my voice a wail.
Beauty deserts your hollows and gold caves;
And wind, that lifts the tresses of white waves,
Your sweet-breathed odours fail:
Yea, and green woods; and plashing water-springs;
And flowered lawns, and birds; yea, all fair things
That call Earth Mother; not one can prevail
To soothe the memory that burns, and stings,
Deadens my cheek, and makes my voice a wail.
“Theseus, ah! Theseus;— where are now the vows
For which all earth but you I have forsworn?
Is woe all love allows
When its sweet day grows tired and overworn?
These sands I pace which we together paced;
These flowers my tresses graced,—
But they are dead now I am left forlorn.
The common day to its oblivion goes,
Endless is that which bears great joys, great woes:
O love;—a little time, and you are sweet:
Most tardily you come,—but go most fleet.
For which all earth but you I have forsworn?
Is woe all love allows
When its sweet day grows tired and overworn?
These sands I pace which we together paced;
These flowers my tresses graced,—
But they are dead now I am left forlorn.
The common day to its oblivion goes,
Endless is that which bears great joys, great woes:
O love;—a little time, and you are sweet:
Most tardily you come,—but go most fleet.
“I woke from sleep,
And looked to find him by me; find him near;
I searched the copses deep—
Naxos is desolate that was most dear.
Ah sea, thou bitter sea;
His prow hath cleft thy wave, and thou hast closed
Swift in his wake to hide the secret way
Stolen ere break of day:—
And not one dream, as peaceful I reposed,
To warn of passing joy!
—Hope, hope and love, he will but try you both;
He will return: my heart is, ah, so loth
To think that he would utterly destroy
Our new-found heaven of wonder-hearted joy.”
And looked to find him by me; find him near;
I searched the copses deep—
Naxos is desolate that was most dear.
Ah sea, thou bitter sea;
His prow hath cleft thy wave, and thou hast closed
Swift in his wake to hide the secret way
Stolen ere break of day:—
And not one dream, as peaceful I reposed,
To warn of passing joy!
—Hope, hope and love, he will but try you both;
He will return: my heart is, ah, so loth
To think that he would utterly destroy
Our new-found heaven of wonder-hearted joy.”
(She stands knee-deep in the water, with arms outstretched, gazing seawards. From a distance comes a sound of bells, singing and laughing.)