THE SOUTH-WESTER

By George Meredith

Day of the cloud in fleets! O day

Of wedded white and blue, that sail

Immingled, with a footing ray

In shadow-sandals down our vale! -

And swift to ravish golden meads,

Swift up the run of turf it speeds,

Thy bright of head and dark of heel,

To where the hilltop flings on sky,

As hawk from wrist or dust from wheel,

The tiptoe sealers tossed to fly: -

Thee the last thunder's caverned peal

Delivered from a wailful night:

All dusky round thy cradled light,

Those brine-born issues, now in bloom

Transfigured, wreathed as raven's plume

And briony-leaf to watch thee lie:

Dark eyebrows o'er a dreamful eye

Nigh opening: till in the braid

Of purpled vapours thou wert rosed:

Till that new babe a Goddess maid

Appeared and vividly disclosed

Her beat of life: then crimson played

On edges of the plume and leaf:

Shape had they and fair feature brief,

The wings, the smiles: they flew the breast,

Earth's milk. But what imperial march

Their standards led for earth, none guessed

Ere upward of a coloured arch,

An arrow straining eager head

Lightened, and high for zenith sped.

Fierier followed; followed Fire.

Name the young lord of Earth's desire,

Whose look her wine is, and whose mouth

Her music! Beauteous was she seen

Beneath her midway West of South;

And sister was her quivered green

To sapphire of the Nereid eyes

On sea when sun is breeze; she winked

As they, and waved, heaved waterwise

Her flood of leaves and grasses linked:

A myriad lustrous butterflies

A moment in the fluttering sheen;

Becapped with the slate air that throws

The reindeer's antlers black between

Low-frowning and wide-fallen snows,

A minute after; hooded, stoled

To suit a graveside Season's dirge.

Lo, but the breaking of a surge,

And she is in her lover's fold,

Illumined o'er a boundless range

Anew: and through quick morning hours

The Tropic-Arctic countercharge

Did seem to pant in beams and showers.

But noon beheld a larger heaven;

Beheld on our reflecting field

The Sower to the Bearer given,

And both their inner sweetest yield,

Fresh as when dews were grey or first

Received the flush of hues athirst.

Heard we the woodland, eyeing sun,

As harp and harper were they one.

A murky cloud a fair pursued,

Assailed, and felt the limbs elude:

He sat him down to pipe his woe,

And some strange beast of sky became:

A giant's club withheld the blow;

A milky cloud went all to flame.

And there were groups where silvery springs

The ethereal forest showed begirt

By companies in choric rings,

Whom but to see made ear alert.

For music did each movement rouse,

And motion was a minstrel's rage

To have our spirits out of house,

And bathe them on the open page.

This was a day that knew not age.

Since flew the vapoury twos and threes

From western pile to eastern rack;

As on from peaks of Pyrenees

To Graians; youngness ruled the track.

When songful beams were shut in caves,

And rainy drapery swept across;

When the ranked clouds were downy waves,

Breast of swan, eagle, albatross,

In ordered lines to screen the blue,

Youngest of light was nigh, we knew.

The silver finger of it laughed

Along the narrow rift: it shot,

Slew the huge gloom with golden shaft,

Then haled on high the volumed blot,

To build the hurling palace, cleave

The dazzling chasm; the flying nests,

The many glory-garlands weave,

Whose presence not our sight attests

Till wonder with the splendour blent,

And passion for the beauty flown,

Make evanescence permanent,

The thing at heart our endless own.

Only at gathered eve knew we

The marvels of the day: for then

Mount upon mountain out of sea

Arose, and to our spacious ken

Trebled sublime Olympus round

In towering amphitheatre.

Colossal on enormous mound,

Majestic gods we saw confer.

They wafted the Dream-messenger

From off the loftiest, the crowned:

That Lady of the hues of foam

In sun-rays: who, close under dome,

A figure on the foot's descent,

Irradiate to vapour went,

As one whose mission was resigned,

Dispieced, undraped, dissolved to threads;

Melting she passed into the mind,

Where immortal with mortal weds.

Whereby was known that we had viewed

The union of our earth and skies

Renewed: nor less alive renewed

Than when old bards, in nature wise,

Conceived pure beauty given to eyes,

And with undyingness imbued.

Pageant of man's poetic brain,

His grand procession of the song,

It was; the Muses and their train;

Their God to lead the glittering throng:

At whiles a beat of forest gong;

At whiles a glimpse of Python slain.

Mostly divinest harmony,

The lyre, the dance. We could believe

A life in orb and brook and tree,

And cloud; and still holds Memory

A morning in the eyes of eve.