Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Nicholson & Lee, eds. The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse. 1917.

Arthur William Edgar O’Shaughnessy (1844–1881)

191. The Lover

I WAS not with the rest at play;

My brothers laughed in joyous mood:

But I—I wandered far away

Into the fair and silent wood;

And with the trees and flowers I stood,

As dumb and full of dreams as they:

—For One it seemed my whole heart knew,

Or One my heart had known long since,

Was peeping at me through the dew;

And with bright laughter seemed to woo

My beauty, like a Fairy prince.

Oh, what a soft enchantment filled

The lonely paths and places dim!

It was as though the whole wood thrilled,

And a dumb joy, because of him,

Weighed down the lilies tall and slim,

And made the roses blush, and stilled

The great wild voices in half fear:

It was as though his smile did hold

All things in trances manifold;

And in each place as he drew near

The leaves were touched and turned to gold…

But more and more he seemed to seek

My heart: till, dreaming of all this,

I thought one day to hear him speak,

Or feel, indeed, his sudden kiss

Bind me to some great unknown bliss:

Then there would stay upon my cheek

Full many a light and honied stain,

That told indeed how I had lain

Deep in the flowery banks all day;

And round me too there would remain

Some strange wood-blossom’s scent alway.…

—O, the incomparable love

Of him, my Lover!—O, to tell

Its way and measure were above

The throbbing chords of speech that swell

Within me!—Doth it not excel

All other, sung or written of?

Yea now, O all ye fair mankind—

Consider well the gracious line

Of those your lovers; call to mind

Their love of you, and ye shall find

Not one among them all like mine.

It seems as though, from calm to calm,

A whole fair age had passed me by,

Since first this Lover, through a charm

Of flowers, wooed so tenderly,

I had no fear of drawing nigh,

Nor knew, indeed, that—with an arm

Closed round and holding me—he led

My eager way from sight to sight

Of all the summer magic—right

To where himself had surely spread

Some pleasant snare for my delight.

And now, in an eternal sphere,

Beneath one flooding look of his—

Wherein, all beautiful and dear,

That endless melting gold that is

His love, with flawless memories

Grows ever richer and more clear—

My life seems held, as some faint star

Beneath its sun: and through the far

Celestial distances for miles,

To where vast mirage futures are,

I trace the gilding of his smiles.…

For, one by one, e’en as I rise,

And feel the pure Ethereal

Refining all before my eyes:

Whole beauteous worlds material

Are seen to enter gradual

The great transparent paradise

Of this my dream; and, all revealed,

To break upon me more and more

Their inward singing souls, and yield

A wondrous secret half concealed

In all their loveliness before.

And so, when, through unmeasured days,

The far effulgence of the sea

Is holding me in long amaze,

And stealing with strange ecstasy

My heart all opened silently;—

There reach me, from among the sprays,

Ineffable faint words that sing

Within me,—how, for me alone,

One who is lover—who is King,

Hath dropt, as ’twere a precious stone,

That sea—a symbol of his throne.…

And, through the long charmed solitude

Of throbbing moments, whose strong link

Is one delicious hope pursued

From trance to trance, the while I think

And know myself upon the brink

Of His eternal kiss,—endued

With part of him, the very wind

Hath power to ravish me in sips

Or long mad wooings that unbind

My hair,—wherein I truly find

The magic of his unseen lips.

And, so almighty is the thrill

I feel at many a faintest breath

Or stir of sound—as ’twere a rill

Of joy traversing me, or death

Dissolving all that hindereth

My thought from power to fulfil

Some new embodiment of bliss,—

I do consume with the immense

Delight as of some secret kiss,

And am become like one whose sense

Is used with raptures too intense!…

Yea, mystic consummation! yea,

O wondrous suitor,—whosoe’er

Thou art; that in such mighty way,

In distant realms, athwart the air

And lands and seas, with all things fair

Hast wooed me even till this day;—

It seems thou drawest near to me;

Or I, indeed, so nigh to thee,

I catch rare breaths of a delight

From thy most glorious country, see

Its distant glow upon some height.…

O thou my Destiny! O thou

My own—my very Love—my Lord!

Whom from the first day until now

My heart, divining, hath adored

So perfectly it hath abhorred

The tie of each frail human vow—

O I would whisper in thine ear—

Yea, may I not, once, in the clear

Pure night, when, only, silver shod

The angels walk?—thy name, I fear

And love, and tremble saying—GOD!