A Veteran Poet.

    I knew thee first as one may know the fame
    Of some apostle, as a man may know
    The mid-day sun far-shining o'er the snow.
    I hail'd thee prince of poets! I became
    Vassal of thine, and warm'd me at the flame
    Of thy pure thought, my spirit all aglow
    With dreams of peace, and pomp, and lyric show,
    And all the splendours, Master! of thy name.
    But now, a man reveal'd, a guide for men,
    I see thy face, I clasp thee by the hand;
    And though the Muses in thy presence stand,
    There's room for me to loiter in thy ken.
    O lordly soul! O wizard of the pen!
    What news from God? What word from Fairyland?

Eric Mackay

Eric Mackay, born on June 1, 1851, was a noted English poet whose work gained recognition in the late 19th century. He is best known for his sonnets and lyrical poetry, which were celebrated for their emotional depth and technical mastery. His most famous work, 'Love Letters of a Violinist,' was well-received during his lifetime. Mackay's contributions to English literature have been acknowledged for their artistic merit. He passed away on June 8, 1898.

Eric Mackay

A Thunderstorm At Night.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

A Prayer For Light.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

Elëanore.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

A Lover's Litanies - Sixth Litany. Benedicta Tu.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

English

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Visions.

    The Poet meets Apollo on the hill,
    And Pan and Flora and the Paphian Queen,
    And infant naïads bathing in the rill,
    And dryad maids that dance upon the green,
    And fauns and Oreads in the silver sheen
    They wear in summer, when the air is still.
    He quaffs the wine of life, and quaffs his fill,
    And sees Creation through its mask terrene.
    The dead are wise, for they alone can see
    As see the bards, - as see, beyond the dust,
    The eyes of babes. The dead alone are just.
    There is no comfort in the bitter fee
    That scholars pay for fame. True sage is he
    Who doubts all doubt, and takes the soul on trust.

Eric Mackay

A Lover's Litanies - Third Litany. Ad Te Clamavi.

i.

Again, O Love! again I make lament,
    And, Arab-like, I pitch my summer-tent
Outside the gateways of the Lord of Song.
I weep and wait, contented all day long
To be the proud possessor of a grief.
It comforts me. It gives me more relief
    Than pleasures give; and, spirit-like in air,
It re-invokes the peace that was so brief.


ii.

It speaks of thee. It keeps me from the lake
    Which else might tempt me; and for thy sweet sake
I shun all evil. I am calmer now
Than when I wooed thee, calmer than the vow
Which made me thine, and yet so fond withal
I start and tremble at the wind's footfall.
    Is it the wind? Or is it mine own past
Come back to life to lure me to its thrall?


iii.

I long to rise and...

Eric Mackay

Mirage.

I.

                'Tis a legend of a lover,
                'Tis a ballad to be sung,
                In the gloaming, - under cover, -
                By a minstrel who is young;
    By a singer who has passion, and who sways us with his tongue.


II.

                I, who know it, think upon it,
                Not unhappy, tho' in tears,
                And I gather in a sonnet
                All the glory of the years;
    And I kiss and clasp a shadow when the substance disappears.


III.

                Ah! I see her as she faced me,
                In the sinless summer days,
                When her little hands embraced me,
                And I saddened at her gaze,
    Thinking, Sweet One! will she love ...

Eric Mackay

The Sonnet King.

    O Petrarch! I am here. I bow to thee,
    Great king of sonnets, thronèd long ago
    And lover-like, as Love enjoineth me,
    And miser-like, enamoured of my woe,
    I reckon up my teardrops as they flow.
    I would not lose the power to shed a tear
    For all the wealth of Plutus and his reign.
    I would not be so base as not complain
    When she I love is absent from my sight.
    No, not for all the marvels of the night,
    And all the varying splendours of the year.
    Do thou assist me, thou! that art the light
    Of all true lovers' souls, in all the sphere,
    To make a May-time of my sorrows slain.

Eric Mackay

A Lover's Litanies - Tenth Litany. Gloria in Excelsis.

i.

O Love! O Lustre of the sunlit earth
    That knows thy step and revels in the worth
Of thy much beauty! Is't thy will anew,
Famed as thou art, to marvel that I sue
With such persistence, and in such unrest
Amid the frenzies of my passion-quest?
    Wilt look ungently, and without a tear,
On all the pangs I bear at thy behest?


ii.

Morning and eve I cease not, when I kneel
    To my Redeemer for my spirit's weal
And for my body's,--as becomes a man,--
Morning and eve I cease not in the span
Of all my days, O thou Unconquer'd One!
To pray for thee, and do what may be done
    To re-acquire the friendship I have lost,
Which is the holiest thing beneath the sun.


iii.

For what is fame that with so loud a v...

Eric Mackay

A Lover's Litanies - Fourth Litany. Gratia Plena.

i.

Oh, smile on me, thou syren of my soul!
    That I may curb my thoughts to some control
And not offend thee, as in truth I do,
Morning, and noon and night, when I pursue
My vagrant fancies, unallow'd of thee,
But fraught with such consolement unto me
    As may be felt in homeward-sailing ships
When wind and wave contend upon the sea.


ii.

Dower me with patience and imbue me still
    With some reminder, when the night is chill,
Of thy dear presence, as, in winter-time,
The maiden moon, that tenderly doth climb
The lofty heavens, hath yet a beam to spare
For doleful wretches in their dungeon-lair;
    E'en thus endow me in my chamber dim
With some reminder of thy face so fair!


iii.

Quit thou thy body w...

Eric Mackay