Poems by George Meredith - Volume 2
TO J. M.
Let Fate or Insufficiency provide
Mean ends for men who what they are would be:
Penned in their narrow day no change they see
Save one which strikes the blow to brutes and pride.
Our faith is ours and comes not on a tide:
And whether Earth's great offspring, by decree,
Must rot if they abjure rapacity,
Not
argument but effort shall decide.
They number many heads in that hard flock:
Trim swordsmen they push forth: yet try thy steel.
Thou, fighting for poor humankind, wilt feel
The strength of Roland in thy wrist to hew
A chasm sheer into the
barrier rock,
And bring the army of the
faithful through.
LINES TO A FRIEND VISITING AMERICA
I
Now
farewell to you! you are
One of my dearest, whom I trust:
Now follow you the Western star,
And cast the old world off as dust.
II
From many friends adieu! adieu!
The quick heart of the word therein.
Much that we hope for hangs with you:
We lose you, but we lose to win.
III
The beggar-king, November, frets:
His tatters rich with Indian dyes
Goes hugging: we our season's debts
Pay
calmly, of the Spring forewise.
IV
We send our worthiest; can no less,
If we would now be read aright, -
To that great people who may bless
Or curse mankind: they have the might.
V
The proudest seasons find their graves,
And we, who would not be wooed, must court.
We have let the blunderers and the waves
Divide us, and the devil had sport.
VI
The blunderers and the waves no more
Shall sever
kindred sending forth
Their worthiest from shore to shore
For
welcome, bent to prove their worth.
VII
Go you and such as you afloat,
Our lost kinsfellowship to revive.
The battle of the antidote
Is tough, though silent: may you thrive!
VIII
I, when in this North wind I see
The straining red woods blown awry,
Feel shuddering like the winter tree,
All vein and
artery on cold sky.
IX
The leaf that clothed me is torn away;
My friend is as a flying seed.
Ay, true; to bring replenished day
Light ebbs, but I am bare, and bleed.
X
What husky habitations seem
These comfortable sayings! they fell,
In some rich year become a dream:-
So cries my heart, the infidel! . . .
XI
Oh! for the
strenuous mind in quest,
Arabian visions could not vie
With those broad wonders of the West,
And would I bid you stay? Not I!
XII
The strange
experimental land
Where men
continually dare take
Niagara leaps;--unshattered stand
'Twixt fall and fall;--for conscience' sake,
XIII
Drive
onward like a flood's increase; -
Fresh rapids and abysms engage; -
(We live--we die) scorn
fireside peace,
And, as a
garment, put on rage,
XIV
Rather than bear God's reprimand,
By rearing on a full fat soil
Concrete of sin and sloth;--this land,
You will observe it coil in coil.
XV
The land has been discover'd long,
The people we have yet to know;
Themselves they know not, save that strong
For good and evil still they grow.
XVI
Nor know they us. Yea, well enough
In that inveterate machine
Through which we speak the printed stuff
Daily, with voice most hugeous, mien
XVII
Tremendous:- as a lion's show
The grand menagerie paintings hide:
Hear the drum beat, the trombones blow!
The poor old Lion lies inside! . . .
XVIII
It is not England that they hear,
But
mighty Mammon's pipers, trained
To
trumpet out his moods, and stir
His
sluggish soul: HER voice is chained:
XIX
Almost her spirit seems moribund!
O teach them, 'tis not she displays
The panic of a purse rotund,
Eternal dread of evil days, -
XX
That haunting spectre of success
Which shows a heart sunk low in the girths:
Not England answers nobleness, -
'Live for thyself: thou art not earth's.'
XXI
Not she, when struggling
manhood tries
For freedom, air, a hopefuller fate,
Points out the
planet, Compromise,
And shakes a mild reproving pate:
XXII
Says never: 'I am well at ease,
My sneers upon the weak I shed:
The strong have my cajoleries:
And those beneath my feet I tread.'
XXIII
Nay, but 'tis said for her, great Lord!
The misery's there! The shameless one
Adjures mankind to sheathe the sword,
Herself not yielding what it won:-
XXIV
Her
sermon at cock-crow doth preach,
On sweet Prosperity--or greed.
'Lo! as the beasts feed, each for each,
God's blessings let us take, and feed!'
XXV
Ungrateful creatures crave a part -
She tells them
firmly she is full;
Lost sheared sheep hurt her tender heart
With bleating, stops her ears with wool:-
XXVI
Seized sometimes by
prodigious qualms
(Nightmares of
bankruptcy and death), -
Showers down in lumps a load of alms,
Then pants as one who has lost a breath;
XXVII
Believes high heaven,
whence favours flow,
Too kind to ask a sacrifice
For what it
specially doth
bestow; -
Gives SHE, 'tis
generous,
cheese to mice.
XXVIII
She saw the young Dominion strip
For battle with a
grievous wrong,
And curled a noble Norman lip,
And looked with half an eye sidelong;
XXIX
And in stout Saxon wrote her sneers,
Denounced the waste of blood and coin,
Implored the combatants, with tears,
Never to think they could rejoin.
XXX
Oh! was it England that, alas!
Turned sharp the
victor to cajole?
Behold her features in the glass:
A
monstroussemblance mocks her soul!
XXXI
A false majority, by stealth,
Have got her fast, and sway the rod:
A headless
tyrant built of wealth,
The
hypocrite, the belly-God.
XXXII
To him the daily hymns they raise:
His tastes are sought: his will is done:
He sniffs the putrid steam of praise,
Place for true England here is none!
XXXIII
But can a distant race discern
The difference 'twixt her and him?
My friend, that will you bid them learn.
He shames and binds her, head and limb.
XXXIV
Old wood has blossoms of this sort.
Though sound at core, she is old wood.
If freemen hate her, one retort
She has; but one!--'You are my blood.'
XXXV
A poet, half a
prophet, rose
In recent days, and called for power.
I love him; but his mountain prose -
His Alp and
valley and wild flower -
XXXVI
Proclaimed our
weakness, not its source.
What medicine for disease had he?
Whom summoned for a show of force?
Our titular aristocracy!
XXXVII
Why, these are great at City feasts;
From City
richesmainly rise:
'Tis well to hear them, when the beasts