Ballads (Masefield, 1903)/The Harper's Song

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The Harper's Song

This sweetness trembling from the stringsThe music of my troublous luteHath timed Herodias' Daughter's foot;Setting a-clink her ankle-ringsWhenas she danced to feasted kings.
Where gemmed apparel burned and caughtThe sunset 'neath the golden dome,To the dark beauties of old RomeMy sorrowful lute hath haply broughtSad memories sweet with tender thought.
When night had fallen and lights and firesWere darkened in the homes of men,Some sighing echo stirred:—and thenThe old cunning wakened from the wiresThe old sorrows and the old desires.
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Dead kings in long forgotten lands,And all dead beauteous women. SomeWhose pride imperial hath becomeOld armour resting in the sands,And shards of iron in dusty hands,
Have heard my lyre's soft rise and fallGo trembling down the paven ways,Till every heart was all ablaze—Hasty each foot—to obey the callTo triumph or to funeral.
Could I begin again the slowSweet mournful music filled with tears,Surely the old, dead, dusty earsWould hear the old drowsy eyes would glow,Old memories come: old hopes and fears,And time restore the long ago.
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