High Muse, who first, where to my opening sight, New-born, the loftiest summits of the world, Silent, with brows of ice and robes unfurl’d Of motionless thunder, shone above the night, Didst touch my infant eyes and fill with light Of snow, and sleepless stars, and torrents hurl’d, And fragrant pines of morning mist-empearl’d, And music of great things and their delight: Revisit me; resume my soul; inspire With force and cold out of the north—not given To sickly dwellers in these southern spots, Where all day long the great Sun rolls his fire Intol’rable in the dusty march of heaven, And the heart shrivels and the spirit rots. Madras, 1890. * * * * * VISION A valley of far-fallen rocks, Like bones of mouldering mountains, spread, And ended by the barren blocks Of mountains doom’d or dead: No rivage there with green recess Made music in that wilderness. Despairing fell the sore-spent Sun, And cried, ‘I die,’ and sank in fire; Like conquering Death, the Night came on And ran from spire to spire; And swollen-pale ascended soon, Like Death in Life, the leprous Moon. On windy ledges lined with light, Between the still Stars sparsely strewn, Two Spirits grew from out the Night Beneath the mistless Moon, And held deep parley, making thought With words sententious half distraught. One full-robed; in his hand a book; His lips, that labour’d for the word, Scarce moved in utterance; and his look Sought, not his face who heard, But that Sad Star that sobs alway Upon the breast of dying Day. One, weary, with two-handed stress Leant on his shoulder-touching spear His beard blown o’er the hairiness Of his great breast; and clear His eyes shot speculation out To catch the truth or quell the doubt. 1. ‘The dreams of Hope, of blue-eyed Hope, Melt after morn and die in day; Love’s golden dew-globe, lit aslope, Dulls with a downward ray; Canst thou with all thy thought renew The flying dreams or drying dew?’ 2. ‘Not I creator. Hour by hour I labour without stress or strife To gain more knowledge, greater power, A nobler, longer life. By thought alone we take our stand Above the world and win command.’ 1. ‘Know, Knowledge doth but clip our wings, And worldly Wisdom weaken worth, To make us lords of little things, And worm-gods of the earth. Were earth made Heaven by human wit, Some wild star yet might shatter it.’