E371021B. Findens’ Tableaux (1838).
The Literary Gazette, 21 October 1837, pp. 668–669.
As reprinted in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 3, 339–340.
We cannot speak highly of the literary contents of this volume; they are of a very low order. Miss Mitford does not seem at home in such very fine society: she lacks the spirit and freshness of her own green lanes. Incomparably the best poem in the work is by an anonymous writer, with the initials E.B.B. We think that we have before seen them affixed to two exquisite ballads in the “New Monthly.” We must give ourselves the pleasure of quoting it:—
India, a Romance of the Ganges.
They stand beneath the midnight,
Beside the river-sea,
Whose water sweepeth white around
The shadow of the tree.
The moon and earth are face to face,
And earth is trancèd deep;
The wave-voice seems the voice of dreams
That wander through her sleep.
The river floweth on. [p. 669→]
What bring they ’neath the midnight,
Beside the river-sea?
They bring that human heart, wherein
No nightly calm can be—
That droppeth never with the wind,
Nor drieth with the dew—
Oh, calm it, God! Thy calm is broad
To cover spirits, too.
The river floweth on.
The maidens lean them over
The waters, side by side,
And shun each other’s deepening eyes,
And gaze adown the tide:
And each within a little boat
A little flame hath lit;
If bright it move, the loved doth love,—
And love doth fail with it—
The river floweth on.
The stars are strong above us,
To symbolize the soul;
Whereby a tempest-wind may rush,
Nor dim them as they roll.
And yet the soul, by instinct sad,
Doth stoop to symbols low—
To that small flame, whose very name,
Breathed o’er it, shakes it so.
The river floweth on.
Go, little boats, go softly,
And guard the symbol spark!
The little boats go soft and safe
Across the waters dark.
And Luti’s eyes have caught the fire
They watch; and unawares,
That blessed while, she lets a smile
Creep silent through her prayers!
The river floweth on.
The smile—where hath it wandered?—
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.
“I do remember watching
A-near this river-bed,
When on my childish knee was laid
My dying father’s head.*
I turned mine, 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.
“They say the dead are blessèd,
The death-change here receiving.
Who say—ah, me!—do any say
Where blessèd are 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.
“My thought was of his falsehood,
Ere my flame had waxèd 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.
“Come thou—thou never knewest
A grief, that thou shouldst fear it—
Thou wearest still the happy look
That feels another’s near it!
Thy humming-bird is in the sun,***
Thy cuckoo in the grove;
And all the three broad words, for thee,
Are full of wandering love.”
The river floweth on.
The little maiden cometh—
She cometh shy and slow,
I ween she seeth thro’ her lids,
They drop a-down so low!
Her tresses near her small feet bare—
She stands, and speaketh nought,
Yet blushes red, as if she said
The name she only thought.
The river floweth on.
She kneeled by the water—
She lighted up the flame—
And o’er her youthful forehead’s calm
The trembling 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.
Glad tears her eyes have blinded—
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.
Then Luti spake behind her—
Out spake she bitterly:
“By the symbol light that lasts to-night,
Wilt vow a vow to me?”
She gazeth upward in her face;
Soft answer maketh she:
“By loves that last when lights are past,
I vow that vow to thee.”
The river floweth on.
An earthly look had Luti,
Though her voice was deep as prayer.
“The rice is gathered from the plains,
To cast upon thine hair.****
And when he comes, his marriage-band
Around thy neck to throw;
Toward his gaze thy bride-smile raise,
And ask of......Luti’s wo!”
The river floweth on.
“And when, in seasons after,
Thy young bright-faced son
Shall lean against thy knee, and ask
What deeds his sire hath done;
Press deep adown thy mother-smile
Upon his ringlets long—
View deep his pretty childish eyes—
And tell of—Luti’s wrong!”
The river floweth on.
She looked up in wonder,
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 wo 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,—
Her laugh was low and wild—
“That the fair new love may the bridegroom prove,
And the father shame the child!”
The river floweth on.
“Thou flowest still, O river!
Thou flowest ’neath the moon—
Thy lily hath not changed a leaf,*****
Thy charmed 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.
“I gaze upon her beauty,
I feel her happy breathing:
The light above thy wave is hers;
And mine, the rest beneath them,
Oh! 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.
“Give back!” she hath departed—
The word is wandering with her,
And the stricken maidens hear afar
The step and cry together,
O 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.
The external appearance of the volume is most elegant.
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*The Hindoos carry their dying friends to the banks of the Ganges, believing in the after-blessedness of those who die there.
**The Hindoo heaven is localised on the summit of Mount Meru—one of the mountains of Himalaya, or Himmeleh, which signifies, I believe, in Sanscrit, the abode of snow, winter, or coldness.
***Hamadeva, the Indian god of love, is imagined to wander through the three worlds, accompanied by the humming-bird, cuckoo, and gentle breezes.
****The casting of rice upon the head, and the fixing of the band or tali about the neck, are parts of the Hindoo marriage ceremonial.
*****The Ganges is represented as a white woman, with a water-lily in her right hand, and in her left, a lute.
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Reviewed:
Findens’ Tableaux, ed. M.R. Mitford, London: 1838.
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