Bells and Pomegranates, First Series/Rudel and the Lady of Tripoli
QUEEN-WORSHIP.
I.—RUDEL AND THE LADY OF TRIPOLI.
i.I know a Mount the Sun perceivesFirst when he visits, last, too, when he leavesThe world; and it repaysThe day-long glory of his gazeBy no change of its large calm steadfast front of snow.A Flower I know,He cannot have perceived, that changes everAt his approach, and in the lost endeavourTo live his life, has parted, one by one,With all a flower's true graces, for the graceOf being but a foolish mimic sun,With ray-like florets round a disk-like face.Men nobly call by many a name the Mount,As over many a land of theirs its largeCalm steadfast front, like a triumphal targeIs reared, and still with old names, fresh names vie,Each to its proper praise and own account:Men call the Flower, the Sunflower, sportively.
ii.Oh, Angel of the East, one, one gold lookAcross the waters to this twilight nook,—The far sad waters, Angel, to this nook!
iii.Dear Pilgrim, art thou for the East indeed?Go! Saying ever as thou dost proceed That I, French Rudel, choose for my deviceA sunflower outspread like a sacrificeBefore its idol: see! These inexpertAnd hurried fingers could not fail to hurtThe woven picture; 'tis a woman's skillIndeed; but nothing baffled me, so, illOr well, the work is finished. Say, men feedOn songs I sing, and therefore bask the beesOn the flower's breast as on a platform broad:But, as the flower's concern is not for theseBut solely for the sun, so men applaudIn vain this Rudel, he not looking hereBut to the East—the East! Go, say this, Pilgrim dear!