Talon-rouge, falbala, queue,
Cardinal, Duke, to a man,
Eager to sigh or to sue,—
This was the Pompadour's fan!
Ah! but things more than polite
Hung on this toy, voyez-vous!
Matters of state and of might,
Things that great ministers do;
Things that, maybe, overthrew
Those in whose brains they began;
Here was the sign and the cue,―
This was the Pompadour's fan!
Where are the secrets it knew?
Weavings of plot and of plan?
-But where is the Pompadour, too?
This was the Pompadour's Fan!
Austin Dobson
BALLADE OF ANTIQUE DANCES
Before the town had lost its wits,
And scared the bravery from its beaux. When money-grubs were merely cits,
And verse was crisp and clear as prose, Ere Chloë and Strephon came to blows For votes, degrees, and cigarettes,
The world rejoiced to point its toes
In Gigues, Gavottes, and Minuets.
The solemn fiddlers touch their kits;
The twinkling clavichord o'erflows
With contrapuntal quirks and hits;
And, with all measure and repose, Through figures grave as royal shows, With noble airs and pirouettes,
They move, to rhythms HANDEL knows, In Gigues, Gavottes, and Minuets.
O Fans and Swords, O Sacques and Mits,
That was the better part you chose!
You know not how those gamesome chits
Waltz, Polka, and Schottische arose,
Or how Quadrille-a kind of doze
In time and tune- -the dance besets;
You aired your fashion till the close
In Gigues, Gavottes, and Minuets.
Muse of the many-twinkling hose,
TERPSICHORE, O teach your pets
The charm that shines, the grace that glows
In Gigues, Gavottes, and Minuets.
BALLADE OF A TOYOKUNI COLOUR PRINT
Was I a Samurai renowned,
Two-sworded, fierce, immense of bow?
A histrion angular and profound?
A priest? a porter?-Child, although
I have forgotten clean, I know
That in the shade of Fujisan,
What time the cherry-orchards blow,
I loved you once in old Japan.
As here you loiter, flowing-gowned
And hugely sashed, with pins a-row
Your quaint head as with flamelets crowned,
Demure, inviting-even so,
When merry maids in Miyako
To feel the sweet o' the year began,
And green gardens to overflow,
I loved you once in old Japan.
Clear shine the hills; the rice-fields round
Two cranes are circling; sleepy and slow,
A blue canal the lake's blue bound
Breaks at the bamboo bridge; and lo!
Touched with the sundown's spirit and glow,
I see you turn, with flirted fan,
Against the plum-tree's bloomy snow....
I loved you once in old Japan!
Dear, 'twas a dozen lives ago;
But that I was a lucky man
The Toyokuni here will show:
I loved you-once-in old Japan.
BALLADE OF THE UNCHANGING BEAUTY
On every wind there comes the dolorous cry
Of change, and rumour vast of fair things sped,
And old perfections loudly doomed to die;
Axes agleam and running torches red,
And voices shrilling, "The old world is dead!"
Yet little heed to all this noise I pay,
But lift my eyes where, walking overhead,
The moon goes silently upon her way.
For what concern with all this change have I,
Knowing the same wild words of old were said?
For change, too, changes not; yea, this old sky
Watches mankind the same vain pathway tread.
So long ago thrones crashed, and nations bled,
Yet the old world stole back at close of day,
And on the morrow men rose up to wed-
The moon goes silently upon her way.
Abbess of all yon cloistered worlds on high,
Upon my heart your benediction shed,
Help me to put the idle turmoil by,
And on the changeless be my spirit fed;
O be my footsteps on that pathway led
Where Beauty steals among the stars to pray;
And, sorrowing earth, in this be comforted-
The moon goes silently upon her way.
Prince, toss not too uneasy on your bed,
Fearing your little crown be reft away;
Wear this undying wreath I weave instead—
The moon goes silently upon her way.
Richard Le Gallienne
BALLADE OF THE SONG OF THE SEA-WIND*
What is the song the sea-wind sings-
The old, old song it singeth for aye?
When abroad it stretcheth its mighty wings.
And driveth the white clouds far away,-
What is the song it sings to-day?
From fire and tumult the white world came,
Where all was a mist of driven spray
And the whirling fragments of a frame!
What is the song the sea-wind sings-
The old, old song it singeth for aye?
It seems to breathe a thousand things
Ere the world grew sad and old and grey-
Of the dear gods banished far astray-
Of strange wild rumours of joy and shame!
The Earth is old, so old, To-day-
Blind and halt and weary and lame.
What is the song the sea-wind sings-
The old, old song it singeth for aye?
Like a trumpet blast its voice out-rings,
The world spins down the darksome way!
It crieth aloud in dark dismay,
The Earth that from fire and tumult came
Draws swift to her weary end To-day,
Her fires are fusing for that last Flame!
* This poem belongs in the division in which Adaptations are included.
What singeth the sea-wind thus for aye
From fire and tumult the white world came! What is the sea-wind's cry To-day
Her central fires make one vast flame!
Where are the creatures of the deep,
That made the sea-world wondrous fair?
The dolphins that with royal sweep
Sped Venus of the golden hair
Through leagues of summer sea and air?
Are they all gone where past things be?
The merman in his weedy lair?
O sweet wild creatures of the sea!
O singing syrens, do ye weep
That now ye hear not anywhere
The swift oars of the seamen leap,
See their wild, eager eyes a-stare?
O syrens, that no more ensnare
The souls of men that once were free,
Are ye not filled with cold despair—
O sweet wild creatures of the sea!
O Triton, on some coral steep
In green-gloom depths, dost thou forbear
With wreathed horn to call thy sheep,
The wandering sea-waves, to thy care?
O mermaids, once so debonnair,
Sport ye no more with mirthful glee?
The ways of lover-folk forswear?-
O sweet wild creatures of the sea!
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