Delphi Complete Works of H. P. Lovecraft (Illustrated) (245 page)
Read Delphi Complete Works of H. P. Lovecraft (Illustrated) Online
Authors: H. P. Lovecraft
598 Angell Street, Providence — Lovecraft’s home from 1904 to 1924, on the same street as his birthplace
8th November, 1897
The night was darke! O readers, hark!
And see Ulysses’ fleet!
From trumpets sound back homeward bound
He hopes his spouse to greet.
Long hath he fought, put troy to naught
And levelled down its wall.
But Neptune’s wrath obstructs his path
And into snares he falls.
After a storme that did much harme
He comes upon an isle
Where men do roam, forgetting home,
And lotos doth beguile,
From these mean snares his men he tears
And puts them on the ships.
No leave he grants, and lotos plants
Must no more touch their lips.
And now he comes to Cyclops’ homes
Foul giants all are they
Each have one eye, and hard they ply
Great Vulcan to obey.
A Cyclops’ cave the wanderers brave
And find much milk & cheese
But as they eat, foul death they meet
For them doth Cyclops seize.
Each livelong day the Cyclops’ prey
Is two most notable Greeks
Ulysses brave he plans to save
And quick escape he seeks.
By crafty ruse he can confuse
The stupid giant’s mind
Puts out his eye with dreadful cry
And leaves the wretch behind.
Now next he finds the king of wands
Great AEolus’s home
The windy king to him doth bring
Wind-bangs to help him roam.
He now remains in fair domains
In Circe’s palace grand
His men do change in fashion strange
To beasts at her command.
But Mercury did set him free
From witcheries like this
Unhappy he his men to see
Engaged in swinish bliss
He drew his sword and spake harsh word
To Circe standing there
‘My Men set free,’ in wrath quote he
‘Thy damage quick repair!!!’
Then all the herd at her brief word
Became like men once more.
Her magic boat, she gives all treat
Within her palace door.
And now Ulysses starts in bliss
The Syrens for to pass
No sound his crew’s sharp ears imbues
For they are stop-ped fast.
Now Scylla’s necks menace his decks
Charybdis theats his ships
Six men are lost — O! dreadful cost
But he through danger slips.
At last from waves no ship he saves
But on Calypso’s isle
He drifts ashore and more & more
He tarries for a while.
At last from command he’s sent to land
To seek his patient wife,
But his raft breaks, and now he takes
His life from Neptune’s strife.
He quickly lands on Scheria’s strands
And goes unto the king.
He tells his tale; all hold wassail;
And ancient bard doth song.
Now does he roam unto his home
Where suitors woo his spouse
In begger’s rags himself he drags
Unknown into his house
His arrows flew at that vile crew
Who sought to win his bride
Now all are killed and he is filled
With great and happy pride.
His swineheard first then his old nurse
Do recognise him well
Then does he see Penelope
With whom he’ll dwell.
Until black death does stop his breath A
nd take him from the earth;
He’ll ne’er roam far from Ithica,
The island of his birth ——
Immortal Moon, in maiden splendour shine.
Dispense thy beams, divine
Latona’s
child.
Thy silver rays all grosser things define,
And hide harsh truth in sweet illusion mild.
In thy soft light, the city of unrest
That stands so squalid in thy brother’s glare
Throws off its habit, and in silence blest
Becomes a vision, sparkling bright and fair.
The modern world, with all it’s care & pain,
The smoky streets, the hideous clanging mills,
Face ‘neath thy beams,
Selene
, and again
We dream like shepherds on
Chaldæa’s
hills.
Take heed,
Diana
, of my humble plea.
Convey me where my happiness may last.
Draw me against the tide of time’s rough sea
And let my sprirt rest amid the past.
Olympian gods! How can I let ye go
And pin my faith to this new
Christian
creed?
Can I resign the deities I know
For him who on a cross for man did bleed?
How in my weakness can my hopes depend
On one lone God, though mighty be his pow’r?
Why can
Jove’s
host no more assistance lend,
To soothe my pain, and cheer my troubled hour?
Are there no Dryads on these wooded mounts
O’er which I oft in desolation roam?
Are there no Naiads in these crystal founts?
Nor Nereids upon the Ocean foam?
Fast spreads the new; the older faith declines.
The name of
Christ
resounds upon the air.
But my wrack’d soul in solitude repines
And gives the Gods their last-receivèd pray’r.
Low dost thou lie, O
Rome
, neath the foot of the
Teuton
Slaves are thy men, and bent to the will of thy conqueror:
Wither hath gone, great city, the race that gave law to all nations,
Subdu’d the east and the west, and made them bow down to thy consuls.
Knew not defeat, but gave it to all who attack’d thee?
Dead! and replac’d by these wretches who cower in confusion
Dead! They who gave us this empire to guard and to live in
Rome
, thou didst fall from thy pow’r with the proud race that made thee,
And we, base
Italians
, enjoy’d what we could not have builded.
To P
an
Seated in a woodland glen
By a shallow reedy stream
Once I fell a-musing, when
I was lull’d into a dream.
From the brook a shape arose
Half a man and half a goat.
Hoofs it had instead of toes
And a beard adorn’d its throat
On a set of rustic reeds
Sweetly play’d this hybrid man
Naught car’d I for earthly needs,
For I knew that this was
Pan
Nymphs & Satyrs gather’d ‘round
To enjoy the lively sound.
All to soon I woke in pain
And return’d to haunts of men.
But in rural vales I’d fain
Live and hear
Pan’s
pipes again.
On the Vanity of Human Ambiti
on
Apollo
, chasing
Daphne
, gain’d his prize
But lo! she turn’d to wood before his eyes.
More modern swains at golden prizes aim,
And ever strive some worldly thing to claim.
Yet ’tis the same as in
Apollo’s
case,
For, once attain’d, the purest gold seems base.
All that men seek ‘s unworthy of the quest,
Yet seek they will, and never pause for rest.
True bliss, methinks, a man can only find
In virtuous life, & cultivated mind.
On Receiving a Picture of Swa
ns
With pensive grace the melancholy Swan
Mourns o’er the tomb of luckless Phaëton;
On grassy banks the weeping poplars wave,
And guard with tender care the wat’ry grave.
Would that I might, should I too proudly claim
An Heav’nly parent, or a Godlike fame,
When flown too high, and dash’d to depths below,
Receive such tribute as a Cygnus’ woe!
The faithful bird, that dumbly floats along,
Sighs all the deeper for his want of song.
Unda; or, The Bride of the S
ea
Respectfully Dedicated with Permission to MAURICE WINTER MOE, Esq.
A Dull, Dark, Drear, Dactylic Delirium in Sixteen Silly, Senseless, Sickly Stanzas
“Ego, canus, lunam cano.”
— Maevius Bavianus.
Black loom the crags of the uplands behind me;
Dark are the sands of the far-stretching shore.
Dim are the pathways and rocks that remind me
Sadly of years in the lost nevermore.
Soft laps the ocean on wave-polish’d boulder;
Sweet is the sound and familiar to me.
Here, with her head gently bent to my shoulder,
Walk’d I with Unda, the Bride of the Sea.
Bright was the morn of my youth when I met her,
Sweet as the breeze that blew in o’er the brine.
Swift was I captur’d in Love’s strongest fetter,
Glad to be hers, and she glad to be mine.
Never a question ask’d I where she wander’d,
Never a question ask’d she of my birth:
Happy as children, we thought not nor ponder’d,
Glad with the bounty of ocean and earth.
Once when the moonlight play’d soft ‘mid the billows,
High on the cliff o’er the waters we stood,
Bound was her hair with a garland of willows,
Pluck’d by the fount in the bird-haunted wood.
Strangely she gaz’d on the surges beneath her,
Charm’d by the sound or entranc’d by the light.
Then did the waves a wild aspect bequeath her,
Stern as the ocean and weird as the night.
Coldly she left me, astonish’d and weeping,
Standing alone ‘mid the regions she bless’d:
Down, ever downward, half gliding, half creeping,
Stole the sweet Unda in oceanward quest.
Calm grew the sea, and tumultuous beating
Turn’d to a ripple, as Unda the fair
Trod the wet sands in affectionate greeting,
Beckon’d to me, and no longer was there!
Long did I pace by the banks where she vanish’d:
High climb’d the moon, and descended again.
Grey broke the dawn till the sad night was banish’d,
Still ach’d my soul with its infinite pain.
All the wide world have I search’d for my darling,
Scour’d the far deserts and sail’d distant seas.
Once on the wave while the tempest was snarling,
Flash’d a fair face that brought quiet and ease.
Ever in restlessness onward I stumble,
Seeking and pining, scarce heeding my way.
Now have I stray’d where the wide waters rumble,
Back to the scene of the lost yesterday.
Lo! the red moon from the ocean’s low hazes
Rises in ominous grandeur to view.
Strange is its face as my tortur’d eye gazes
O’er the vast reaches of sparkle and blue.
Straight from the moon to the shore where I’m sighing
Grows a bright bridge, made of wavelets and beams.
Frail may it be, yet how simple the trying;
Wand’ring from earth to the orb of sweet dreams.
What is yon face in the moonlight appearing;
Have I at last found the maiden that fled?
Out on the beam-bridge my footsteps are nearing
Her whose sweet beckoning hastens my tread.
Currents surround me, and drowsily swaying,
Far on the moon-path I seek the sweet face.
Eagerly hasting, half panting, half praying,
Forward I reach for the vision of grace.
Murmuring waters about me are closing,
Soft the sweet vision advances to me:
Done are my trials; my heart is reposing
Safe with my Unda, the Bride of the Sea.
Epilogue
As the rash fool, a prey of Unda’s art,
Drown thro’ the passion of his fever’d heart,
So are our youth, inflam’d by tempters fair,
Bereft of reason and the manly air.
How sad the sight of Strephon’s virile grace
Turn’d to confusion at his Chloë’s face,
And e’er Pelides, dear to Grecian eyes,
Sulking for loss of his thrice-cherish’d prize.
Brothers, attend! If cares too sharply vex,
Gain rest by shunning the destructive sex!