Ecstasy.





Ecstasy.


    I cannot sing to thee as I would sing
    If I were quickened like the holy lark
    With fire from Heaven and sunlight on his wing,
    Who wakes the world with witcheries of the dark
    Renewed in rapture in the reddening air.
    A thing of splendour do I deem him then,
    A feather'd frenzy with an angel's throat,
    A something sweet that somewhere seems to float
    'Twixt earth and sky, to be a sign to men.
    He fills me with such wonder and despair!
    I long to kiss thy locks, so golden bright,
    As he doth kiss the tresses of the sun.
    Oh! bid me sing to thee, my chosen one,
    And do thou teach me, Love, to sing aright!

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

Victor Hugo.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

Love Letters of a Violinist. Letter VI. Despair.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

A Prayer For Light.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

Mary Arden.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

English

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Love's Ambition.



XI. Love's Ambition.


    I must invoke thee for my spirit's good,
    And prove myself un-guilty of the crime
    Of mere self-seeking, though with this imbued.
    I sing as sings the mavis in a wood,
    Content to be alive at harvest time.
    Had I its wings I should not be withstood!
    But I will weave my fancies into rhyme,
    And greet afar the heights I cannot climb.
    I will invoke thee, Love! though far away,
    And pay thee homage, as becomes a knight
    Who longs to keep his true-love in his sight.
    Yea, I will soar to thee, i...

Eric Mackay

Ex Tenebra.



Ex Tenebra.


    The winds have shower'd their rains upon the sod,
    And flowers and trees have murmur'd as with lips.
    The very silence has appeal'd to God.
    In man's behalf, though smitten by His rod,
    'Twould seem as if the blight of some eclipse
    Had dull'd the skies, - as if, on mountain tips,
    The winds of Heaven had spurn'd the life terrene,
    And clouds were foundering like benighted ships.
    But what is this, exultant, unforseen,
    Which cleaves the dark? A fearful, burning thing!
    Is it the moon? Or Saturn's scarlet ring

Eric Mackay

Love Letters of a Violinist. Letter VIII. A Vision.



Letter VIII. A Vision.


I.

    Yes, I will tell thee what, a week ago,
    I dreamt of thee, and all the joy therein
    Which I conceiv'd, and all the holy din
    Of throbbing music, which appear'd to flow
    From room to room, as if to make me know
    The power thereof to lead me out of sin.


II.

    Methought I saw thee in a ray of light,
    This side a grove - a dream within a dream -
    With eyes of tender pleading, and the gleam
    Of far-off summers in thy tresses bright;
    And I did tremble at the gracious sig...

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In Tuscany.



In Tuscany.


    Dost thou remember, friend of vanish'd days,
    How in the golden land of love and song,
    We met in April in the crowded ways
    Of that fair city where the soul is strong,
    Aye! strong as fate, for good or evil praise?
    And how the lord whom all the world obeys, -
    The lord of light to whom the stars belong, -
    Illumed the track that led thee through the throng?
    Dost thou remember, in the wooded dale,
    Beyond the town of Dante the Divine,
    How all the air was flooded as with wine?
    And how the lark, to dro...

Eric Mackay

Love Letters of a Violinist. Letter IV. Yearnings.



Letter IV. Yearnings.


I.

    The earth is glad, I know, when night is spent,
    For then she wakes the birdlings in the bowers;
    And, one by one, the rosy-footed hours
    Start for the race; and from his crimson tent
    The soldier-sun looks o'er the firmament;
    And all his path is strewn with festal flowers.


II.

    But what his mission? What the happy quest
    Of all this toil? He journeys on his way
    As Cæsar did, unbiass'd by the sway
    Of maid or man. His goal is in the west.
    Will he unbuckle there, a...

Eric Mackay

Anteros.



Anteros.


I.

    This is the feast-day of my soul and me,
    For I am half a god and half a man.
    These are the hours in which are heard by sea,
    By land and wave, and in the realms of space,
    The lute-like sounds which sanctify my span,
    And give me power to sway the human race.


II.

    I am the king whom men call Lucifer,
    I am the genius of the nether spheres.
    Give me my Christian name, and I demur.
    Call me a Greek, and straightway I rejoice.
    Yea, I am Anteros, and with my tears
    I salt the earth tha...

Eric Mackay