Poems, with The Ballad of Reading Gaol. Оскар Уайльд

Nay! but some flame-girt Raphael shall come down,

       And smite the Spoiler with the sword of pain.

      Venice.

      SONNET

      WRITTEN IN HOLY WEEK AT GENOA

      I wandered through Scoglietto’s far retreat,

       The oranges on each o’erhanging spray

       Burned as bright lamps of gold to shame the day;

       Some startled bird with fluttering wings and fleet

       Made snow of all the blossoms; at my feet

       Like silver moons the pale narcissi lay:

       And the curved waves that streaked the great green bay

       Laughed i’ the sun, and life seemed very sweet.

       Outside the young boy-priest passed singing clear,

       ‘Jesus the son of Mary has been slain,

       O come and fill His sepulchre with flowers.’

       Ah, God! Ah, God! those dear Hellenic hours

       Had drowned all memory of Thy bitter pain,

       The Cross, the Crown, the Soldiers and the Spear.

      ROME UNVISITED

      I.

      The corn has turned from grey to red,

       Since first my spirit wandered forth

       From the drear cities of the north,

       And to Italia’s mountains fled.

      And here I set my face towards home,

       For all my pilgrimage is done,

       Although, methinks, yon blood-red sun

       Marshals the way to Holy Rome.

      O Blessed Lady, who dost hold

       Upon the seven hills thy reign!

       O Mother without blot or stain,

       Crowned with bright crowns of triple gold!

      O Roma, Roma, at thy feet

       I lay this barren gift of song!

       For, ah! the way is steep and long

       That leads unto thy sacred street.

      II.

      And yet what joy it were for me

       To turn my feet unto the south,

       And journeying towards the Tiber mouth

       To kneel again at Fiesole!

      And wandering through the tangled pines

       That break the gold of Arno’s stream,

       To see the purple mist and gleam

       Of morning on the Apennines

      By many a vineyard-hidden home,

       Orchard and olive-garden grey,

       Till from the drear Campagna’s way

       The seven hills bear up the dome!

      III.

      A pilgrim from the northern seas—

       What joy for me to seek alone

       The wondrous temple and the throne

       Of him who holds the awful keys!

      When, bright with purple and with gold

       Come priest and holy cardinal,

       And borne above the heads of all

       The gentle Shepherd of the Fold.

      O joy to see before I die

       The only God-anointed king,

       And hear the silver trumpets ring

       A triumph as he passes by!

      Or at the brazen-pillared shrine

       Holds high the mystic sacrifice,

       And shows his God to human eyes

       Beneath the veil of bread and wine.

      IV.

      For lo, what changes time can bring!

       The cycles of revolving years

       May free my heart from all its fears,

       And teach my lips a song to sing.

      Before yon field of trembling gold

       Is garnered into dusty sheaves,

       Or ere the autumn’s scarlet leaves

       Flutter as birds adown the wold,

      I may have run the glorious race,

       And caught the torch while yet aflame,

       And called upon the holy name

       Of Him who now doth hide His face.

      Arona.

      URBS SACRA ÆTERNA

      Rome! what a scroll of History thine has been;

       In the first days thy sword republican

       Ruled the whole world for many an age’s span:

       Then of the peoples wert thou royal Queen,

       Till in thy streets the bearded Goth was seen;

       And now upon thy walls the breezes fan

       (Ah, city crowned by God, discrowned by man!)

       The hated flag of red and white and green.

       When was thy glory! when in search for power

       Thine eagles flew to greet the double sun,

       And the wild nations shuddered at thy rod?

       Nay, but thy glory tarried for this hour,

       When pilgrims kneel before the Holy One,

       The prisoned shepherd of the Church of God.