Poems by George Meredith - Volume 2 by George Meredith

Author:George Meredith [Meredith, George]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: poetry
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

THE SONG OF THEODOLINDA

I

Queen Theodolind has built In the earth a furnace-bed: There the Traitor Nail that spilt Blood of the anointed Head, Red of heat, resolves in shame: White of heat, awakes to flame. Beat, beat! white of heat, Red of heat, beat, beat!

II

Mark the skeleton of fire Lightening from its thunder-roof: So comes this that saw expire Him we love, for our behoof! Red of heat, O white of heat, This from off the Cross we greet.

III

Brown-cowled hammermen around Nerve their naked arms to strike Death with Resurrection crowned, Each upon that cruel spike. Red of heat the furnace leaps, White of heat transfigured sleeps.

IV

Hard against the furnace core Holds the Queen her streaming eyes: Lo! that thing of piteous gore In the lap of radiance lies, Red of heat, as when He takes, White of heat, whom earth forsakes.

V

Forth with it, and crushing ring Iron hymns, for men to hear Echoes of the deeds that sting Earth into its graves, and fear! Red of heat, He maketh thus, White of heat, a crown of us.

VI

This that killed Thee, kissed Thee, Lord! Touched Thee, and we touch it: dear, Dark it is; adored, abhorred: Vilest, yet most sainted here. Red of heat, O white of heat, In it hell and heaven meet.

VII

I behold our morning day When they chased Him out with rods Up to where this traitor lay Thirsting; and the blood was God’s! Red of heat, it shall be pressed, White of heat, once on my breast!

VIII

Quick! the reptile in me shrieks, Not the soul. Again; the Cross Burn there. Oh! this pain it wreaks Rapture is: pain is not loss. Red of heat, the tooth of Death, White of heat, has caught my breath.

IX

Brand me, bite me, bitter thing! Thus He felt, and thus I am One with Him in suffering, One with Him in bliss, the Lamb. Red of heat, O white of heat, Thus is bitterness made sweet.

X

Now am I, who bear that stamp Scorched in me, the living sign Sole on earth—the lighted lamp Of the dreadful Day divine. White of heat, beat on it fast! Red of heat, its shape has passed.

XI

Out in angry sparks they fly, They that sentenced Him to bleed: Pontius and his troop: they die, Damned for ever for the deed! White of heat in vain they soar: Red of heat they strew the floor.

XII

Fury on it! have its debt! Thunder on the Hill accurst, Golgotha, be ye! and sweat Blood, and thirst the Passion’s thirst. Red of heat and white of heat, Champ it like fierce teeth that eat.

XIII

Strike it as the ages crush Towers! for while a shape is seen I am rivalled. Quench its blush, Devil! But it crowns me Queen, Red of heat, as none before, White of heat, the circlet wore.

XIV

Lowly I will be, and quail, Crawling, with a beggar’s hand: On my breast the branded Nail, On my head the iron band. Red of heat, are none so base! White of

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