When all shall have contemplated the noble creature, vestige of some epoch already damned, some indifferently, for they will not have had strength to understand, but others, broken-hearted, and with eyelids wet with tears of resignation, will look at each other; while the poets of those times, feeling their dim eyes rekindled, will make their way toward their lamp, their brain for an instant drunk with confused glory, haunted by Rhythm, and forgetful that they exist at an epoch which has survived beauty.
APPENDIX II
No. 1
The following verses are by Vielé-Griffin, from page 28 of a volume of his Poems:—
OISEAU BLEU COULEUR DU TEMPS
1
Sait-tu l'oubliD'un vain doux rêve,Oiseau moqueurDe la forêt?Le jour pâlit,La nuit se lève,Et dans mon cœurL'ombre a pleuré;
2
O chante-moiTa folle gamme,Car j'ai dormiCe jour durant;Le lâche emoiOù fut mon âmeSanglote ennuiLe jour mourant....
3
Sais-tu le chantDe sa paroleEt de sa voix,Toi qui redisDans le couchantTon air frivoleComme autrefoisSous les midis?
4
O chante alorsLa mélodieDe son amour,Mon fol espoir,Parmi les orsEt l'incendieDu vain doux jourQui meurt ce soir.
Francis Vielé-Griffin.
BLUE BIRD
1
Canst thou forget,In dreams so vain,Oh, mocking birdOf forest deep?The day doth set,Night comes again,My heart has heardThe shadows weep;
2
Thy tones let flowIn maddening scale,For I have sleptThe livelong day;Emotions lowIn me now wail,My soul they've kept:Light dies away....
3
That music sweet,Ah, do you knowHer voice and speech?Your airs so lightYou who repeatIn sunset's glow,As you sang, each,At noonday's height.
4
Of my desire,My hope so bold,Her love—up, sing,Sing, 'neath this light,This flaming fire,And all the goldThe eve doth bringEre comes the night.
No. 2
And here are some verses by the esteemed young poet Verhaeren, which I also take from page 28 of his Works:—
ATTIRANCES
Lointainement, et si étrangement pareils,De grands masques d'argent que la brume recule,Vaguent, au jour tombant, autour des vieux soleils.
Les doux lointaines!—et comme, au fond du crépuscule,Ils nous fixent le cœur, immensément le cœur,Avec les yeux défunts de leur visage d'âme.
C'est toujours du silence, à moins, dans la pâleurDu soir, un jet de feu soudain, un cri de flamme,Un départ de lumière inattendu vers Dieu.
On se laisse charmer et troubler de mystère,Et l'on dirait des morts qui taisent un adieuTrop mystique, pour être écouté par la terre!
Sont-ils le souvenir matériel et clairDes éphèbes chrétiens couchés aux catacombesParmi les lys? Sont-ils leur regard et leur chair?
Ou seul, ce qui survit de merveilleux aux tombesDe ceux qui sont partis, vers leurs rêves, un soir,Conquérir la folie à l'assaut des nuées?
Lointainement, combien nous les sentons vouloirUn peu d'amour pour leurs œuvres destituées,Pour leur errance et leur tristesse aux horizons.
Toujours! aux horizons du cœur et des pensées,Alors que les vieux soirs éclatent en blasonsSoudains, pour les gloires noires et angoissées.
Émile VerhaerenPoèmes.
ATTRACTIONS
Large masks of silver, by mists drawn away,So strangely alike, yet so far apart.Float round the old suns when faileth the day.
They transfix our heart, so immensely our heart,Those distances mild, in the twilight deep,Looking out of dead faces with their spirit eyes.
All around is now silence, except when there leapIn the pallor of evening, with fiery cries,Some fountains of flame that God-ward do fly.
Mysterious trouble and charms us infold,You might think that the dead spoke a silent good-by,Oh! too mystical far on earth to be told!
Are they the memories, material and bright,Of the Christian youths that in catacombs sleep'Mid the lilies? Are they their flesh or their sight?
Or the marvel alone that survives, in the deep,Of those that, one night, returned to their dreamOf conquering folly by assaulting the skies?
For their destitute works—we feel it seems,For a little love their longing criesFrom horizons far—for their errings and pain.
In horizons ever of heart and thought,While the evenings old in bright blaze waneSuddenly, for black glories anguish fraught.
No. 3
And the following is a poem by Moréas, evidently an admirer of Greek beauty. It is from page 28 of a volume of his Poems:—
ENONE AU CLAIR VISAGE
Enone, j'avais cru qu'en aimant ta beautéOù l'âme avec le corps trouvent leur unité,J'allais, m'affermissant et le cœur et l'esprit,Monter jusqu'à cela qui jamais ne périt,N'ayant été crée, qui n'est froideur ou feu,Qui n'est beau quelque part et laid en autre lieu;Et me flattais encor' d'une belle harmonieQue j'eusse composé du meilleur et du pire,Ainsi que le chanteur qui chérit Polimnie,En accordant le grave avec l'aigu, retireUn son bien élevé sur les nerfs de sa lyre.Mais mon courage, hélas! se pâmant comme mort,M'enseigna que le trait qui m'avait fait amantNe fut pas de cet arc que courbe sans effortLa Vénus qui naquit du mâle seulement,Mais que j'avais souffert cette Vénus dernière,Qui a le cœur couard, né d'une faible mère.Et pourtant, ce mauvais garçon, chasseur habile,Qui charge son carquois de sagette subtile,Qui secoue en riant sa torche, pour un jour,Qui ne pose jamais que sur de tendres fleurs,C'est sur un teint charmant qu'il essuie les pleurs,Et c'est encore un Dieu, Enone, cet Amour.Mais, laisse, les oiseaux du printemps sont partis,Et je vois les rayons du soleil amortis.Enone, ma douleur, harmonieux visage,Superbe humilité, doux honnête langage,Hier me remirant dans cet étang glacéQui au bout du jardin se couvre de feuillage,Sur ma face je vis que les jours ont passé.
Jean Moréas.
ENONE
Enone, in loving thy beauty, I thought,Where the soul and the body to union are brought,That mounting by steadying my heart and my mind,In that which can't perish, myself I should find.For it ne'er was created, is not ugly and fair;Is not coldness in one part, while on fire it is there.Yes, I flattered myself that a harmony fineI'd succeed to compose of the worst and the best,Like the bard who adores Polyhymnia divine,And mingling sounds different from the nerves of his lyre,From the grave and the smart draws melodies higher.But, alas! my courage, so faint and nigh spent,The dart that has struck me proves without failNot to be from that bow which is easily bentBy the Venus that's born alone of the male.No, 'twas that other Venus that caused me to smart,Born of frail mother with cowardly heart.And yet that naughty lad, that little hunter bold,Who laughs and shakes his flowery torch just for a day,Who never rests but upon tender flowers and gay,On sweetest skin who dries the tears his eyes that fill,Yet oh, Enone mine, a God's that Cupid still.Let it pass; for the birds of the Spring are away,And dying I see the sun's lingering ray.Enone, my sorrow, oh, harmonious face,Humility grand, words of virtue and grace,I looked yestere'en in the pond frozen fast,Strewn with leaves at the end of the garden's fair space,And I read in my face that those days are now past.
No. 4
And this is also from page 28 of a thick book, full of similar poems, by M. Montesquiou.
BERCEUSE D'OMBRE
Des formes, des formes, des formesBlanche, bleue, et rose, et d'orDescendront du haut des ormesSur l'enfant qui se rendort.Des formes!
Des plumes, des plumes, des plumesPour composer un doux nid.Midi sonne: les enclumesCessent; la rumeur finit....Des plumes!
Des roses, des roses, des rosesPour embaumer son sommeil,Vos pétales sont morosesPrès du sourire vermeil.O roses!
Des ailes, des ailes, des ailesPour bourdonner à sont front,Abeilles et demoiselles,Des rythmes qui berceront.Des ailes!
Des branches, des branches, des branchesPour tresser un pavillon,Par où des clartés moins franchesDescendront sur l'oisillon.Des branches!
Des songes, des songes, des songesDans ses pensers entr' ouvertsGlissez un peu de mensongesA voir le vie au traversDes songes!
Des fées, des fées, des féesPour filer leurs écheveauxDes mirages, de boufféesDans tous ces petits cerveaux.Des fées!
Des anges, des anges, des angesPour emporter dans l'étherLes petits enfants étrangesQui ne veulent pas rester....Nos anges!
Comte Robert de Montesquiou-Fezensac,Les Hortensias Bleus.
THE SHADOW LULLABY
Oh forms, oh forms, oh formsWhite, blue, and gold, and redDescending from the elm trees,On sleeping baby's head.Oh forms!
Oh feathers, feathers, feathersTo make a cozy nest.Twelve striking: stops the clamor;The anvils are at rest....Oh feathers!
Oh roses, roses, rosesTo scent his sleep awhile,Pale are your fragrant petalsBeside his ruby smile.Oh roses!
Oh wings, oh wings, oh wingsOf bees and dragon-flies,To hum around his forehead,And lull him with your sighs.Oh wings!
Branches, branches, branchesA shady bower to twine,Through which, oh daylight, faintlyDescend on birdie mine.Branches!
Oh dreams, oh dreams, oh dreamsInto his opening mind,Let in a little falsehoodWith sights of life behind.Dreams!
Oh fairies, fairies, fairiesTo twine and twist their threadsWith puffs of phantom visionsInto these little heads.Fairies!
Angels, angels, angelsTo the ether far away,Those children strange to carryThat here don't wish to stay....Our angels!
APPENDIX III
These are the contents of "The Nibelung's Ring":—
The first part tells that the nymphs, the daughters of the Rhine, for some reason guard gold in the Rhine, and sing: Weia, Waga, Woge du Welle, Walle zur Wiege, Wagala-weia, Wallala, Weiala, Weia, and so forth.
These singing nymphs are pursued by a gnome (a nibelung) who desires to seize them. The gnome cannot catch any of them. Then the nymphs guarding the gold tell the gnome just what they ought to keep secret, namely, that whoever renounces love will be able to steal the gold they are guarding. And the gnome renounces love, and steals the gold. This ends the first scene.
In the second scene a god and a goddess lie in a field in sight of a castle which giants have built for them. Presently they wake up and are pleased with the castle, and they relate that in payment for this work they must give the goddess Freia to the giants. The giants come for their pay. But the god Wotan objects to parting with Freia. The giants get angry. The gods hear that the gnome has stolen the gold, promise to confiscate it, and to pay the giants with it. But the giants won't trust them, and seize the goddess Freia in pledge.
The third scene takes place underground. The gnome Alberich, who stole the gold, for some reason beats a gnome, Mime, and takes from him a helmet which has the power both of making people invisible and of turning them into other animals. The gods, Wotan and others, appear and quarrel with one another and with the gnomes, and wish to take the gold, but Alberich won't give it up, and (like everybody all through the piece) behaves in a way to insure his own ruin. He puts on the helmet, and becomes first a dragon and then a toad. The gods catch the toad, take the helmet off it, and carry Alberich away with them.
Scene IV. The gods bring Alberich to their home, and order him to command his gnomes to bring them all the gold. The gnomes bring it. Alberich gives up the gold, but keeps a magic ring. The gods take the ring. So Alberich curses the ring, and says it is to bring misfortune on any one who has it. The giants appear; they bring the goddess Freia, and demand her ransom. They stick up staves of Freia's height, and gold is poured in between these staves: this is to be the ransom. There is not enough gold, so the helmet is thrown in, and they also demand the ring. Wotan refuses to give it up, but the goddess Erda appears and commands him to do so, because it brings misfortune. Wotan gives it up. Freia is released. The giants, having received the ring, fight, and one of them kills the other. This ends the Prelude, and we come to the First Day.
The scene shows a house in a tree. Siegmund runs in tired, and lies down. Sieglinda, the mistress of the house (and wife of Hunding), gives him a drugged draught, and they fall in love with each other. Sieglinda's husband comes home, learns that Siegmund belongs to a hostile race, and wishes to fight him next day; but Sieglinda drugs her husband, and comes to Siegmund. Siegmund discovers that Sieglinda is his sister, and that his father drove a sword into the tree so that no one can get it out. Siegmund pulls the sword out, and commits incest with his sister.
Act II. Siegmund is to fight with Hunding. The gods discuss the question to whom they shall award the victory. Wotan, approving of Siegmund's incest with his sister, wishes to spare him, but, under pressure from his wife, Fricka, he orders the Valkyrie Brünnhilda to kill Siegmund. Siegmund goes to fight; Sieglinda faints. Brünnhilda appears and wishes to slay Siegmund. Siegmund wishes to kill Sieglinda also, but Brünnhilda does not allow it; so he fights with Hunding. Brünnhilda defends Siegmund, but Wotan defends Hunding. Siegmund's sword breaks, and he is killed. Sieglinda runs away.
Act III. The Valkyries (divine Amazons) are on the stage. The Valkyrie Brünnhilda arrives on horseback, bringing Siegmund's body. She is flying from Wotan, who is chasing her for her disobedience. Wotan catches her, and as a punishment dismisses her from her post as a Valkyrie. He casts a spell on her, so that she has to go to sleep and to continue asleep until a man wakes her. When some one wakes her she will fall in love with him. Wotan kisses her; she falls asleep. He lets off fire, which surrounds her.
We now come to the Second Day. The gnome Mime forges a sword in a wood. Siegfried appears. He is a son born from the incest of brother with sister (Siegmund with Sieglinda), and has been brought up in this wood by the gnome. In general the motives of the actions of everybody in this production are quite unintelligible. Siegfried learns his own origin, and that the broken sword was his father's. He orders Mime to reforge it, and then goes off. Wotan comes in the guise of a wanderer, and relates what will happen: that he who has not learnt to fear will forge the sword, and will defeat everybody. The gnome conjectures that this is Siegfried, and wants to poison him. Siegfried returns, forges his father's sword, and runs off, shouting, Heiho! heiho! heiho! Ho! ho! Aha! oho! aha! Heiaho! heiaho! heiaho! Ho! ho! Hahei! hoho! hahei!
And we get to Act II. Alberich sits guarding a giant, who, in form of a dragon, guards the gold he has received. Wotan appears, and for some unknown reason foretells that Siegfried will come and kill the dragon. Alberich wakes the dragon, and asks him for the ring, promising to defend him from Siegfried. The dragon won't give up the ring. Exit Alberich. Mime and Siegfried appear. Mime hopes the dragon will teach Siegfried to fear. But Siegfried does not fear. He drives Mime away and kills the dragon, after which he puts his finger, smeared with the dragon's blood, to his lips. This enables him to know men's secret thoughts, as well as the language of birds. The birds tell him where the treasure and the ring are, and also that Mime wishes to poison him. Mime returns, and says out loud that he wishes to poison Siegfried. This is meant to signify that Siegfried, having tasted dragon's blood, understands people's secret thoughts. Siegfried, having learnt Mime's intentions, kills him. The birds tell Siegfried where Brünnhilda is, and he goes to find her.
