Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Asia: Vols. XXI–XXIII. 1876–79.
A Romance of the Ganges
By Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806–1861)S
Stand near the river-sea,
Whose water sweepeth white around
The shadow of the tree.
The moon and earth are face to face,
And earth is slumbering deep;
The wave-voice seems the voice of dreams
That wander through her sleep.
The river floweth on.
Beside the river-sea?
They bring the human heart wherein
No nightly calm can be,—
That droppeth never with the wind,
Nor drieth with the dew:
O, calm it, God! Thy calm is broad
To cover spirits, too.
The river floweth on.
The waters, side by side,
And shun each other’s deepening eyes,
And gaze adown the tide:
For each within a little boat
A little lamp hath put,
And heaped for freight some lily’s weight
Or scarlet rose half shut.
The river floweth on.
Each little boat is made:
Each carries a lamp, and carries a flower,
And carries a hope unsaid.
And when the boat hath carried the lamp
Unquenched, till out of sight,
The maidens are sure that love will endure,—
But love will fail with light.
The river floweth on.
To symbolize the soul,
The stars untroubled by the wind,
Unwearied as they roll;
And yet the soul by instinct sad
Reverts to symbols low,—
To that small flame whose very name,
Breathed o’er it, shakes it so!
The river floweth on.
Seven maidens on the shore,
While still above them steadfastly
The stars shine evermore.
Go, little boats, go soft and safe,
And guard the symbol spark!
The boats aright go safe and bright
Across the waters dark.
The river floweth on.
Where onwardly they float.
That look in her dilating eyes
Might seem to drive her boat;
Her eyes still mark the constant fire,
And kindling unawares
That hopeful while she lets a smile
Creep silent through her prayers.
The river floweth on.
She riseth from her knee,
She holds her dark, wet locks away,—
There is no light to see!
She cries a quick and bitter cry,
“Nuleeni, launch me thine!
We must have light abroad to-night,
For all the wreck of mine.”
The river floweth on.
Beside this river-bed,
When on my childish knee was laid
My dying father’s head.
I turned mine own, to keep the tears
From falling on his face,—
What doth it prove when death and love
Choose out the selfsame place?”
The river floweth on.
The death-change here receiving.
Who say,—all me! who dare to say
Where joy comes to the living?
Thy boat, Nuleeni! look not sad,—
Light up the waters rather!
I weep no faithless lover where
I wept a loving father.”
The river floweth on.
Ere my little boat grew dim:
And though I closed mine eyes to dream
That one last dream of him,
They shall not now be wet to see
The shining vision go:
From earth’s cold love I look above
To the holy house of snow.”
The river floweth on.
A grief, that thou shouldst fear one!
Thou wearest still the happy look
That shines beneath a dear one!
Thy humming-bird is in the sun,
Thy cuckoo in the grove,
And all the three broad worlds, for thee
Are full of wandering love.”
The river floweth on.
What secret wouldst thou cover?
That peepul cannot hide thy boat,
And I can guess thy lover:
I heard thee sob his name in sleep,—
It was a name I knew,—
Come, little maid, be not afraid,
But let us prove him true!”
The river floweth on.
She cometh shy and slow;
I ween she seeth through her lids,
They drop adown so low:
Her tresses meet her small bare feet,—
She stands and speaketh naught,
Yet blusheth red, as if she said
The name she only thought.
The river floweth on.
She lighted up the flame,
And o’er her youthful forehead’s calm
The fitful radiance came:
“Go, little boat, go, soft and safe,
And guard the symbol spark!”
Soft, safe, doth float the little boat
Across the waters dark.
The river floweth on.
The light they cannot reach:
She turneth with that sudden smile
She learnt before her speech,—
“I do not hear his voice! the tears
Have dimmed my light away!
But the symbol light will last to-night,
The love will last for aye.”
The river floweth on.
Outspake she bitterly:
“By the symbol light that lasts to-night,
Wilt vow a vow to me?”
Nuleeni gazeth up her face,—
Soft answer maketh she:
“By loves that last when lights are past,
I vow that vow to thee!”
The river floweth on.
Though her voice was deep as prayer,—
“The rice is gathered from the plains
To cast upon thine hair;
But when he comes, his marriage-band
Around thy neck to throw,
Thy bride-smile raise to meet his gaze,
And whisper,—There is one betrays,
When Luti suffers woe.”
The river floweth on.
Thy little bright-faced son
Shall kneel against thy knee and ask
What deeds his sire hath done,
Press deeper down thy mother-smile
His glossy curls among,—
View deep his pretty childish eyes,
And whisper,—There is none denies,
When Luti speaks of wrong.”
The river floweth on.
Yet softly answered she,—
“By loves that last when lights are past,
I vowed that vow to thee.
But why glads it thee that a bride-day be
By a word of woe defiled?
That a word of wrong take the cradle-song
From the ear of a sinless child?”
“Why,” Luti said, and her laugh was dread,
And her eyes dilated wild,—
“That the fair new love may her bridegroom prove,
And the father shame the child.”
The river floweth on.
Thou flowest ’neath the moon,—
Thy lily hath not changed a leaf.
Thy charméd lute a tune!
He mixed his voice with thine,—and his
Was all I heard around;
But now, beside his chosen bride,
I hear the river’s sound.”
The river floweth on.
Through the tresses that enwreathe it:
The light above thy wave is hers,—
My rest, alone beneath it.
O, give me back the dying look
My father gave thy water!
Give back! and let a little love
O’erwatch his weary daughter!”
The river floweth on.
The word is wandering with her,
And the stricken maidens hear afar
The step and cry together.
Frail symbols? None are frail enow
For mortal joys to borrow!
While bright doth float Nuleeni’s boat,
She weepeth, dark with sorrow.
The river floweth on.