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St. Dorothy

by Algernon Charles Swinburne

It hath been seen and yet it shall be seen

That out of tender mouths God's praise hath been

Made perfect, and with wood and simple string

He hath played music sweet as shawm-playing

To please himself with softness of all sound;

And no small thing but hath been sometime found

Full sweet of use, and no such humbleness

But God hath bruised withal the sentences

And evidence of wise men witnessing;

No leaf that is so soft a hidden thing

It never shall get sight of the great sun;

The strength of ten has been the strength of one,

And lowliness has waxed imperious.

There was in Rome a man Theophilus

Of right great blood and gracious ways, that had

All noble fashions to make people glad

And a soft life of pleasurable days;

He was a goodly man for one to praise,

Flawless and whole upward from foot to head;

His arms were a red hawk that alway fed

On a small bird with feathers gnawed upon,

Beaten and plucked about the bosom-bone

Whereby a small round fleck like fire there was:

They called it in their tongue lampadias;

This was the banner of the lordly man.

In many straits of sea and reaches wan

Full of quick wind, and many a shaken firth,

It had seen fighting days of either earth,

Westward or east of waters Gaditane

(This was the place of sea-rocks under Spain

Called after the great praise of Hercules)

And north beyond the washing Pontic seas,

Far windy Russian places fabulous,

And salt fierce tides of storm-swoln Bosphorus.

Now as this lord came straying in Rome town

He saw a little lattice open down

And after it a press of maidens' heads

That sat upon their cold small quiet beds

Talking, and played upon short-string'd lutes;

And other some ground perfume out of roots

Gathered by marvellous moons in Asia;

Saffron and aloes and wild cassia,

Coloured all through and smelling of the sun;

And over all these was a certain one

Clothed softly, with sweet herbs about her hair

And bosom flowerful; her face more fair

Than sudden-singing April in soft lands:

Eyed like a gracious bird, and in both hands

She held a psalter painted green and red.

This Theophile laughed at the heart, and said;

Now God so help me hither and St. Paul,

As by the new time of their festival

I have good will to take this maid to wife.

And herewith fell to fancies of her life

And soft half-thoughts that ended suddenly.

This is man's guise to please himself, when he

Shall not see one thing of his pleasant things,

Nor with outwatch of many travailings

Come to be eased of the least pain he hath

For all his love and all his foolish wrath

And all the heavy manner of his mind.

Thus is he like a fisher fallen blind

That casts his nets across the boat awry

To strike the sea, but lo, he striketh dry

And plucks them back all broken for his pain

And bites his beard and casts across again

And reaching wrong slips over in the sea.

So hath this man a strangled neck for fee,

For all his cost he chuckles in his throat.

This Theophile that little hereof wote

Laid wait to hear of her what she might be:

Men told him she had name of Dorothy,

And was a lady of a worthy house.

Thereat this knight grew inly glorious

That he should have a love so fair of place.

She was a maiden of most quiet face,

Tender of speech, and had no hardihood

But was nigh feeble of her fearful blood;

Her mercy in her was so marvellous

From her least years, that seeing her school-fellows

That read beside her stricken with a rod,

She would cry sore and say some word to God

That he would ease her fellow of his pain.

There is no touch of sun or fallen rain

That ever fell on a more gracious thing.

In middle Rome there was in stone-working

The church of Venus painted royally.

The chapels of it were some two or three,

In each of them her tabernacle was

And a wide window of six feet in glass

Coloured with all her works in red and gold.

The altars had bright cloths and cups to hold

The wine of Venus for the services,

Made out of honey and crushed wood-berries

That shed sweet yellow through the thick wet red,

That on high days was borne upon the head

Of Venus' priest for any man to drink;

So that in drinking he should fall to think

On some fair face, and in the thought thereof

Worship, and such should triumph in his love.

For this soft wine that did such grace and good

Was new trans-shaped and mixed with Love's own blood,

That in the fighting Trojan time was bled;

For which came such a woe to Diomed

That he was stifled after in hard sea.

And some said that this wine-shedding should be

Made of the falling of Adonis' blood,

That curled upon the thorns and broken wood

And round the gold silk shoes on Venus' feet;

The taste thereof was as hot honey sweet

And in the mouth ran soft and riotous.

This was the holiness of Venus' house.

It was their worship, that in August days

Twelve maidens should go through those Roman ways

Naked, and having gold across their brows

And their hair twisted in short golden rows,

To minister to Venus in this wise:

And twelve men chosen in their companies

To match these maidens by the altar-stair,

All in one habit, crowned upon the hair.

Among these men was chosen Theophile.

This knight went out and prayed a little while,

Holding queen Venus by her hands and knees;

I will give thee twelve royal images

Cut in glad gold, with marvels of wrought stone

For thy sweet priests to lean and pray upon,

Jasper and hyacinth and chrysopras,

And the strange Asian thalamite that was

Hidden twelve ages under heavy sea

Among the little sleepy pearls, to be

A shrine lit over with soft candle-flame

Burning all night red as hot brows of shame,

So thou wilt be my lady without sin.

Goddess that art all gold outside and in,

Help me to serve thee in thy holy way.

Thou knowest, Love, that in my bearing day

There shone a laughter in the singing stars

Round the gold-ceil'd bride-bed wherein Mars

Touched thee and had thee in your kissing wise.

Now therefore, sweet, kiss thou my maiden's eyes

That they may open graciously towards me;

And this new fashion of thy shrine shall be

As soft with gold as thine own happy head.

The goddess, that was painted with face red

Between two long green tumbled sides of sea,

Stooped her neck sideways, and spake pleasantly:

Thou shalt have grace as thou art thrall of mine.

And with this came a savour of shed wine

And plucked-out petals from a rose's head:

And softly with slow laughs of lip she said,

Thou shalt have favour all thy days of me.

Then came Theophilus to Dorothy,

Saying: O sweet, if one should strive or speak

Against God's ways, he gets a beaten cheek

For all his wage and shame above all men.

Therefore I have no will to turn again

When God saith 'go,' lest a worse thing fall out.

Then she, misdoubting lest he went about

To catch her wits, made answer somewhat thus:

I have no will, my lord Theophilus,

To speak against this worthy word of yours;

Knowing how God's will in all speech endures,

That save by grace there may no thing be said.

Then Theophile waxed light from foot to head,

And softly fell upon this answering.

It is well seen you are a chosen thing

To do God service in his gracious way.

I will that you make haste and holiday

To go next year upon the Venus stair,

Covered none else, but crowned upon your hair,

And do the service that a maiden doth.

She said: but I that am Christ's maid were loth

To do this thing that hath such bitter name.

Thereat his brows were beaten with sore shame

And he came off and said no other word.

Then his eyes chanced upon his banner-bird,

And he fell fingering at the staff of it

And laughed for wrath and stared between his feet,

And out of a chafed heart he spake as thus:

Lo how she japes at me Theophilus,

Feigning herself a fool and hard to love;

Yet in good time for all she boasteth of

She shall be like a little beaten bird.

And while his mouth was open in that word

He came upon the house Janiculum,

Where some went busily, and other some

Talked in the gate called the gate glorious.

The emperor, which was one Gabalus,

Sat over all and drank chill wine alone.

To whom is come Theophilus anon,

And said as thus: Beau sire, Dieu vous aide.

And afterward sat under him, and said

All this thing through as ye have wholly heard.

This Gabalus laughed thickly in his beard.

Yea, this is righteousness and maiden rule.

Truly, he said, a maid is but a fool.

And japed at them as one full villainous,

In a lewd wise, this heathen Gabalus,

And sent his men to bind her as he bade.

Thus have they taken Dorothy the maid,

And haled her forth as men hale pick-purses:

A little need God knows they had of this,

To hale her by her maiden gentle hair.

Thus went she lowly, making a soft prayer,

As one who stays the sweet wine in his mouth,

Murmuring with eased lips, and is most loth

To have done wholly with the sweet of it.

Christ king, fair Christ, that knowest all men's wit

And all the feeble fashion of my ways,

O perfect God, that from all yesterdays

Abidest whole with morrows perfected,

I pray thee by thy mother's holy head

Thou help me to do right, that I not slip:

I have no speech nor strength upon my lip,

Except thou help me who art wise and sweet.

Do this too for those nails that clove thy feet,

Let me die maiden after many pains.

Though I be least among thy handmaidens,

Doubtless I shall take death more sweetly thus.

Now have they brought her to King Gabalus,

Who laughed in all his throat some breathing-whiles:

By God, he said, if one should leap two miles,

He were not pained about the sides so much.

This were a soft thing for a man to touch.

Shall one so chafe that hath such little bones?

And shook his throat with thick and chuckled moans

For laughter that she had such holiness.

What aileth thee, wilt thou do services?

It were good fare to fare as Venus doth.

Then said this lady with her maiden mouth,

Shamefaced, and something paler in the cheek:

Now, sir, albeit my wit and will to speak

Give me no grace in sight of worthy men,

For all my shame yet know I this again,

I may not speak, nor after downlying

Rise up to take delight in lute-playing,

Nor sing nor sleep, nor sit and fold my hands,

But my soul in some measure understands

God's grace laid like a garment over me.

For this fair God that out of strong sharp sea

Lifted the shapely and green-coloured land,

And hath the weight of heaven in his hand

As one might hold a bird, and under him

The heavy golden planets beam by beam

Building the feasting-chambers of his house,

And the large world he holdeth with his brows

And with the light of them astonisheth

All place and time and face of life and death

And motion of the north wind and the south,

And is the sound within his angel's mouth

Of singing words and words of thanksgiving,

And is the colour of the latter spring

And heat upon the summer and the sun,

And is beginning of all things begun

And gathers in him all things to their end,

And with the fingers of his hand doth bend

The stretched-out sides of heaven like a sail,

And with his breath he maketh the red pale

And fills with blood faint faces of men dead,

And with the sound between his lips are fed

Iron and fire and the white body of snow,

And blossom of all trees in places low,

And small bright herbs about the little hills,

And fruit pricked softly with birds' tender bills,

And flight of foam about green fields of sea,

And fourfold strength of the great winds that be

Moved always outward from beneath his feet,

And growth of grass and growth of sheav'd wheat

And all green flower of goodly-growing lands;

And all these things he gathers with his hands

And covers all their beauty with his wings;

The same, even God that governs all these things,

Hath set my feet to be upon his ways.

Now therefore for no painfulness of days

I shall put off this service bound on me.

Also, fair sir, ye know this certainly,

How God was in his flesh full chaste and meek

And gave his face to shame, and either cheek

Gave up to smiting of men tyrannous.

And here with a great voice this Gabalus

Cried out and said: By God's blood and his bones,

This were good game betwixen night and nones

For one to sit and hearken to such saws:

I were as lief fall in some big beast's jaws

As hear these women's jaw-teeth chattering;

By God a woman is the harder thing,

One may not put a hook into her mouth.

Now by St. Luke I am so sore adrouth

For all these saws I must needs drink again.

But I pray God deliver all us men

From all such noise of women and their heat.

That is a noble scripture, well I weet,

That likens women to an empty can;

When God said that he was a full wise man.

I trow no man may blame him as for that.

And herewithal he drank a draught, and spat,

And said: Now shall I make an end hereof.

Come near all men and hearken for God's love,

And ye shall hear a jest or twain, God wot.

And spake as thus with mouth full thick and hot;

But thou do this thou shalt be shortly slain.

Lo, sir, she said, this death and all his pain

I take in penance of my bitter sins.

Yea now, quoth Gabalus, this game begins.

Lo, without sin one shall not live a span.

Lo, this is she that would not look on man

Between her fingers folded in thwart wise.

See how her shame hath smitten in her eyes

That was so clean she had not heard of shame.

Certes, he said, by Gabalus my name,

This two years back I was not so well pleased.

This were good mirth for sick men to be eased

And rise up whole and laugh at hearing of.

I pray thee show us something of thy love,

Since thou wast maid thy gown is waxen wide.

Yea, maid I am, she said, and somewhat sighed,

As one who thought upon the low fair house

Where she sat working, with soft bended brows

Watching her threads, among the school-maidens.

And she thought well now God had brought her thence

She should not come to sew her gold again.

Then cried King Gabalus upon his men

To have her forth and draw her with steel gins.

And as a man hag-ridden beats and grins

And bends his body sidelong in his bed,

So wagged he with his body and knave's head,

Gaping at her, and blowing with his breath.

And in good time he gat an evil death

Out of his lewdness with his curs'd wives:

His bones were hewn asunder as with knives

For his misliving, certes it is said.

But all the evil wrought upon this maid,

It were full hard for one to handle it.

For her soft blood was shed upon her feet,

And all her body's colour bruised and faint.

But she, as one abiding God's great saint,

Spake not nor wept for all this travail hard.

Wherefore the king commanded afterward

To slay her presently in all men's sight.

And it was now an hour upon the night

And winter-time, and a few stars began.

The weather was yet feeble and all wan

For beating of a weighty wind and snow.

And she came walking in soft wise and slow,

And many men with faces piteous.

Then came this heavy cursing Gabalus,

That swore full hard into his drunken beard;

And faintly after without any word

Came Theophile some paces off the king.

And in the middle of this wayfaring

Full tenderly beholding her he said:

There is no word of comfort with men dead

Nor any face and colour of things sweet;

But always with lean cheeks and lifted feet

These dead men lie all aching to the blood

With bitter cold, their brows withouten hood

Beating for chill, their bodies swathed full thin:

Alas, what hire shall any have herein

To give his life and get such bitterness?

Also the soul going forth bodiless

Is hurt with naked cold, and no man saith

If there be house or covering for death

To hide the soul that is discomforted.

Then she beholding him a little said:

Alas, fair lord, ye have no wit of this;

For on one side death is full poor of bliss

And as ye say full sharp of bone and lean:

But on the other side is good and green

And hath soft flower of tender-coloured hair

Grown on his head, and a red mouth as fair

As may be kissed with lips; thereto his face

Is as God's face, and in a perfect place

Full of all sun and colour of straight boughs

And waterheads about a painted house

That hath a mile of flowers either way

Outward from it, and blossom-grass of May

Thickening on many a side for length of heat,

Hath God set death upon a noble seat

Covered with green and flowered in the fold,

In likeness of a great king grown full old

And gentle with new temperance of blood;

And on his brows a purfled purple hood,

They may not carry any golden thing;

And plays some tune with subtle fingering

On a small cithern, full of tears and sleep

And heavy pleasure that is quick to weep

And sorrow with the honey in her mouth;

And for this might of music that he doth

Are all souls drawn toward him with great love

And weep for sweetness of the noise thereof

And bow to him with worship of their knees;

And all the field is thick with companies

Of fair-clothed men that play on shawms and lutes

And gather honey of the yellow fruits

Between the branches waxen soft and wide:

And all this peace endures in either side

Of the green land, and God beholdeth all.

And this is girdled with a round fair wall

Made of red stone and cool with heavy leaves

Grown out against it, and green blossom cleaves

To the green chinks, and lesser wall-weed sweet,

Kissing the crannies that are split with heat,

And branches where the summer draws to head.

And Theophile burnt in the cheek, and said:

Yea, could one see it, this were marvellous.

I pray you, at your coming to this house,

Give me some leaf of all those tree-branches;

Seeing how so sharp and white our weather is,

There is no green nor gracious red to see.

Yea, sir, she said, that shall I certainly.

And from her long sweet throat without a fleck

Undid the gold, and through her stretched-out neck

The cold axe clove, and smote away her head:

Out of her throat the tender blood full red

Fell suddenly through all her long soft hair.

And with good speed for hardness of the air

Each man departed to his house again.

Lo, as fair colour in the face of men

At seed-time of their blood, or in such wise

As a thing seen increaseth in men's eyes,

Caught first far off by sickly fits of sight'

So a word said, if one shall hear aright,

Abides against the season of its growth.

This Theophile went slowly as one doth

That is not sure for sickness of his feet;

And counting the white stonework of the street,

Tears fell out of his eyes for wrath and love,

Making him weep more for the shame thereof

Than for true pain: so went he half a mile.

And women mocked him, saying: Theophile,

Lo, she is dead; what shall a woman have

That loveth such an one? so Christ me save,

I were as lief to love a man new-hung.

Surely this man has bitten on his tongue,

This makes him sad and writhled in his face.

And when they came upon the paven place

That was called sometime the place amorous

There came a child before Theophilus

Bearing a basket, and said suddenly:

Fair sir, this is my mistress Dorothy

That sends you gifts; and with this he was gone.

In all this earth there is not such an one

For colour and straight stature made so fair.

The tender growing gold of his pure hair

Was as wheat growing, and his mouth as flame.

God called him Holy after his own name;

With gold cloth like fire burning he was clad.

But for the fair green basket that he had,

It was filled up with heavy white and red;

Great roses stained still where the first rose bled,

Burning at heart for shame their heart withholds:

And the sad colour of strong marigolds

That have the sun to kiss their lips for love;

The flower that Venus' hair is woven of,

The colour of fair apples in the sun,

Late peaches gathered when the heat was done

And the slain air got breath; and after these

The fair faint-headed poppies drunk with ease,

And heaviness of hollow lilies red.

Then cried they all that saw these things, and said

It was God's doing, and was marvellous.

And in brief while this knight Theophilus

Is waxen full of faith, and witnesseth

Before the king of God and love and death,

For which the king bade hang him presently.

A gallows of a goodly piece of tree

This Gabalus hath made to hang him on.

Forth of this world lo Theophile is gone

With a wried neck, God give us better fare

Than his that hath a twisted throat to wear;

But truly for his love God hath him brought

There where his heavy body grieves him nought

Nor all the people plucking at his feet;

But in his face his lady's face is sweet,

And through his lips her kissing lips are gone:

God send him peace, and joy of such an one.

This is the story of St. Dorothy.

I will you of your mercy pray for me

Because I wrote these sayings for your grace,

That I may one day see her in the face.