Posthumous Poems/Memorial Verses on the Death of Karl Blind

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4147589Posthumous Poems — Memorial Verses on the Death of Karl BlindAlgernon Charles Swinburne

MEMORIAL VERSES ON THE DEATH
OF KARL BLIND

Across the wide-wing'd years
Whose sound no hearkener hears
Passing in thunder of reverberate flight,
Nor any seer may see
What fruit of them shall be,
Shines from the death-struck past a living light,
And music breathed of memory's breath
Attunes the darkling silence born of earthly death.

Through all the thunderous time,
Now silent and sublime,
When Right in hopeless hope waged war on Wrong,
His head shone high, his hand
Grasped as a burning brand
The sword of faith which weakness makes more strong,
And they for whom it shines hold fast
The trust that Time bequeaths for truth to assure at last.

Not prison, not the breath
Of doom denouncing death,
Could make the manhood in him burn less high
For one breath's space than when
It shone for following men,
A sign to show how man might live or die
With freedom in triumphant sight,
And hope elate above all fluctuant chance of fight.

The German fame of old,
By Roman hands inscrolled
As bright beyond all nations else borne down,
Shone round his banished head,
As round the deathless dead
With light bequeathed of one coequal crown:
And now that his and theirs are one
No time shall see the setting of that sovereign sun.

All this must all time know
While memories ebb and flow
Till out of blind forgetfulness is born
Fame deathless as the day,
When none may think to say
Her light is less than noon and even and morn:
When glories forged in hell-fire fade,
And warrior empires wither in the waste they made.

When all a forger's fame
Is shrivelled up in shame;
When all imperial notes of praise and prayer
And hoarse thanksgiving raised
To the abject God they praised
For murderous mercies are but poisonous air;
When Bismarck and his William lie
Low even as he they warred on—damned too deep to die.

For how should history bid
Their names go free, lie hid,
Stand scathless of her Tacitean brand?
From them forgetfulness,
Too bright a boon to bless
Crime deep as hell, withholds her healing hand;
But while their fame was fresh and rank
The old light of German glory here nor sank nor shrank.

Here, where all wrongs find aid,
Where all foul strengths are stayed,
Where empire means not evil, here was one
Whose glance, whose smile, whose voice
Bade all their souls rejoice
Who hailed in sight of English sea and sun
A head sublime as theirs who died
For England ere her praise was Freedom's crowning pride.

Not even his head shone higher,
Whose only loftiest lyre
Were meet to hail faith pure and proud as his:
A pride all praise must wrong
Less high than soared the song
Wherein the light that was and was not is:
The lyric light whence Milton lit
The darkness of the darkling days that knew not it.

Less high my praise may soar:
But when it lives no more
Silent and fervent in the secret heart
That holds for all time fast
The sense of time long past,
No sense of life will then therein have part.
No thought may speak, no words enshrine,
My thanks to him who gave Mazzini's hand to mine.

Our glorious century gone
Beheld no head that shone
More clear across the storm, above the foam,
More steadfast in the fight
Of warring night and light,
True to the truth whose star leads heroes home,
Than his who, loving all things free,
Loved as with English passion of delight our sea.

The joy of glorious age
To greet the sea's glad rage
With answering rapture as of bird or boy,
When sundawn thrilled the foam
And bade the sea's flock home,
Crowned all a foiled heroic life with joy
Bright as the light of living flame,
That glows, a deathless gloriole, round his deathless name.

1907.