FullReads

But now, the world is busy; it has grown
A Fair-going world. Imperial England draws
The flowing ends of the earth from Fez, Canton,
Delhi and Stockholm, Athens and Madrid,
The Russias and the vast Americas,
As if a queen drew in her robes amid
Her golden cincture,–isles, peninsulas,
Capes, continents, far inland countries hid
By jasper-sands and hills of chrysopras,
All trailing in their splendours through the door
Of the gorgeous Crystal Palace. Every nation,
To every other nation strange of yore,
Gives face to face the civic salutation,
And holds up in a proud right hand before
That congress the best work which she can fashion
By her best means. “These corals, will you please
To match against your oaks? They grow as fast
Within my wilderness of purple seas.”–
“This diamond stared upon me as I passed
(As a live god’s eye from a marble frieze)
Along a dark of diamonds. Is it classed?”–
“I wove these stuffs so subtly that the gold
Swims to the surface of the silk like cream
And curdles to fair patterns. Ye behold!”–
“These delicatest muslins rather seem
Than be, you think? Nay, touch them and be bold,
Though such veiled Chakhi’s face in Hafiz’ dream.”–
“These carpets–you walk slow on them like kings,
Inaudible like spirits, while your foot
Dips deep in velvet roses and such things.”–
“Even Apollonius might commend this flute:[13]
The music, winding through the stops, upsprings
To make the player very rich: compute!”
“Here’s goblet-glass, to take in with your wine
The very sun its grapes were ripened under:
Drink light and juice together, and each fine.”–
“This model of a steamship moves your wonder?
You should behold it crushing down the brine
Like a blind Jove who feels his way with thunder.”–
“Here’s sculpture! Ah, we live too! why not throw
Our life into our marbles? Art has place
For other artists after Angelo.”–
“I tried to paint out here a natural face;
For nature includes Raffael, as we know,
Not Raffael nature. Will it help my case?”–
“Methinks you will not match this steel of ours!”–
“Nor you this porcelain! One might dream the clay
Retained in it the larvae of the flowers,
They bud so, round the cup, the old Spring-way.”–
“Nor you these carven woods, where birds in bowers
With twisting snakes and climbing cupids, play.”

O Magi of the east and of the west,
Your incense, gold and myrrh are excellent!–
What gifts for Christ, then, bring ye with the rest?
Your hands have worked well: is your courage spent
In handwork only? Have you nothing best,
Which generous souls may perfect and present,
And He shall thank the givers for? no light
Of teaching, liberal nations, for the poor
Who sit in darkness when it is not night?
No cure for wicked children? Christ,–no cure!
No help for women sobbing out of sight
Because men made the laws? no brothel-lure
Burnt out by popular lightnings? Hast thou four
No remedy, my England, for such woes?
No outlet, Austria, for the scourged and bound,
No entrance for the exiled? no repose,
Russia, for knouted Poles worked underground,
And gentle ladies bleached among the snows?
No mercy for the slave, America?
No hope for Rome, free France, chivalric France?
Alas, great nations have great shames, I say.
No pity, O world, no tender utterance
Of benediction, and prayers stretched this way
For poor Italia, baffled by mischance?
O gracious nations, give some ear to me!
You all go to your Fair, and I am one
Who at the roadside of humanity
Beseech your alms,–God’s justice to be done.
So, prosper!