CHAMBER MUSIC

By James Joyce

CONTENTS

Contents with First Lines

CHAMBER MUSIC

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

XXI

XXII

XXIII

XXIV

XXV

XXVI

XXVII

XXVIII

XXIX

XXX

XXXI

XXXII

XXXIII

XXXIV

XXXV

XXXVI

Contents With First Lines

I

I Strings in the earth and air
Make music sweet;

II

II
The twilight turns from amethyst
To deep and deeper blue,

III

III
At that hour when all things have repose,
O lonely watcher of the skies,

IV

IV
When the shy star goes forth in heaven
All maidenly, disconsolate,
Lean out of the window,
Goldenhair,

VI

VI
I would in that sweet bosom be
(O sweet it is and fair it is!)

VII

VII
My love is in a light attire
Among the apple-trees,

VIII

VIII
Who goes amid the green wood
With springtide all adorning her?

IX

IX
Winds of May, that dance on the sea,
Dancing a ring-around in glee
Bright cap and streamers,
He sings in the hollow:

XI

XI
Bid adieu, adieu, adieu,
Bid adieu to girlish days,

XII

XII
What counsel has the hooded moon
Put in thy heart, my shyly sweet,

XIII

XIII
Go seek her out all courteously,
And say I come,

XIV

XIV
My dove, my beautiful one,
Arise, arise!

XV

XV
From dewy dreams, my soul, arise,
From love's deep slumber and from death,

XVI

XVI
O cool is the valley now
And there, love, will we go

XVII

XVII
Because your voice was at my side
I gave him pain,

XVIII

XVIII
O Sweetheart, hear you
Your lover's tale;

XIX

XIX
Be not sad because all men
Prefer a lying clamour before you:

XX

XX
In the dark pine-wood
I would we lay,

XXI

XXI
He who hath glory lost, nor hath
Found any soul to fellow his,

XXII

XXII
Of that so sweet imprisonment
My soul, dearest, is fain—

XXIII

XXIII
This heart that flutters near my heart
My hope and all my riches is,

XXIV

XXIV
Silently she's combing,
Combing her long hair

XXV

XXV
Lightly come or lightly go:
Though thy heart presage thee woe,

XXVI

XXVI
Thou leanest to the shell of night,
Dear lady, a divining ear.

XXVII

XXVII
Though I thy Mithridates were,
Framed to defy the poison-dart,

XXVIII

XXVIII
Gentle lady, do not sing
Sad songs about the end of love;

XXIX

XXIX
Dear heart, why will you use me so?
Dear eyes that gently me upbraid,

XXX

XXX
Love came to us in time gone by
When one at twilight shyly played

XXXI

XXXI
O, it was out by Donnycarney
When the bat flew from tree to tree

XXXII

XXXII
Rain has fallen all the day.
O come among the laden trees:

XXXIII

XXXIII
Now, O now, in this brown land
Where Love did so sweet music make

XXXIV

XXXIV
Sleep now, O sleep now,
O you unquiet heart!

XXXV

XXXV
All day I hear the noise of waters
Making moan,

XXXVI

I hear an army charging upon the land,
And the thunder of horses plunging, foam about their knees:

CHAMBER MUSIC

I

     Strings in the earth and air

     Make music sweet;

     Strings by the river where

     The willows meet.

     There's music along the river

     For Love wanders there,

     Pale flowers on his mantle,

     Dark leaves on his hair.

     All softly playing,

     With head to the music bent,

     And fingers straying

     Upon an instrument.

II

     The twilight turns from amethyst

     To deep and deeper blue,

     The lamp fills with a pale green glow

     The trees of the avenue.

     The old piano plays an air,

     Sedate and slow and gay;

     She bends upon the yellow keys,

     Her head inclines this way.

     Shy thought and grave wide eyes and hands

     That wander as they list—

     The twilight turns to darker blue

     With lights of amethyst.

III

     At that hour when all things have repose,

     O lonely watcher of the skies,

     Do you hear the night wind and the sighs

     Of harps playing unto Love to unclose

     The pale gates of sunrise?

     When all things repose, do you alone

     Awake to hear the sweet harps play

     To Love before him on his way,

     And the night wind answering in antiphon

     Till night is overgone?

     Play on, invisible harps, unto Love,

     Whose way in heaven is aglow

     At that hour when soft lights come and go,

     Soft sweet music in the air above

     And in the earth below.

IV

     When the shy star goes forth in heaven

     All maidenly, disconsolate,

     Hear you amid the drowsy even

     One who is singing by your gate.

     His song is softer than the dew

     And he is come to visit you.

     O bend no more in revery

     When he at eventide is calling.

     Nor muse: Who may this singer be

     Whose song about my heart is falling?

     Know you by this, the lover's chant,

     'Tis I that am your visitant.

V

     Lean out of the window,

     Goldenhair,

     I hear you singing

     A merry air.

     My book was closed,

     I read no more,

     Watching the fire dance

     On the floor.

     I have left my book,

     I have left my room,

     For I heard you singing

     Through the gloom.

     Singing and singing

     A merry air,

     Lean out of the window,

     Goldenhair.

VI

     I would in that sweet bosom be

     (O sweet it is and fair it is!)

     Where no rude wind might visit me.

     Because of sad austerities

     I would in that sweet bosom be.

     I would be ever in that heart

     (O soft I knock and soft entreat her!)

     Where only peace might be my part.

     Austerities were all the sweeter

     So I were ever in that heart.

VII

     My love is in a light attire

     Among the apple-trees,

     Where the gay winds do most desire

     To run in companies.

     There, where the gay winds stay to woo

     The young leaves as they pass,

     My love goes slowly, bending to

     Her shadow on the grass;

     And where the sky's a pale blue cup

     Over the laughing land,

     My love goes lightly, holding up

     Her dress with dainty hand.

VIII

     Who goes amid the green wood

     With springtide all adorning her?

     Who goes amid the merry green wood

     To make it merrier?

     Who passes in the sunlight

     By ways that know the light footfall?

     Who passes in the sweet sunlight

     With mien so virginal?

     The ways of all the woodland

     Gleam with a soft and golden fire—

     For whom does all the sunny woodland

     Carry so brave attire?

     O, it is for my true love

     The woods their rich apparel wear—

     O, it is for my own true love,

     That is so young and fair.

IX

     Winds of May, that dance on the sea,

     Dancing a ring-around in glee

     From furrow to furrow, while overhead

     The foam flies up to be garlanded,

     In silvery arches spanning the air,

     Saw you my true love anywhere?

     Welladay! Welladay!

     For the winds of May!

     Love is unhappy when love is away!

X

     Bright cap and streamers,

     He sings in the hollow:

     Come follow, come follow,

                All you that love.

     Leave dreams to the dreamers

     That will not after,

     That song and laughter

                Do nothing move.

     With ribbons streaming

     He sings the bolder;

     In troop at his shoulder

                The wild bees hum.

     And the time of dreaming

     Dreams is over—

     As lover to lover,

                Sweetheart, I come.

XI

     Bid adieu, adieu, adieu,

     Bid adieu to girlish days,

     Happy Love is come to woo

     Thee and woo thy girlish ways—

     The zone that doth become thee fair,

     The snood upon thy yellow hair,

     When thou hast heard his name upon

     The bugles of the cherubim

     Begin thou softly to unzone

     Thy girlish bosom unto him

     And softly to undo the snood

     That is the sign of maidenhood.

XII

     What counsel has the hooded moon

     Put in thy heart, my shyly sweet,

     Of Love in ancient plenilune,

     Glory and stars beneath his feet—

     A sage that is but kith and kin

     With the comedian Capuchin?

     Believe me rather that am wise

     In disregard of the divine,

     A glory kindles in those eyes

     Trembles to starlight. Mine, O Mine!

     No more be tears in moon or mist

     For thee, sweet sentimentalist.

XIII

     Go seek her out all courteously,

     And say I come,

     Wind of spices whose song is ever

     Epithalamium.

     O, hurry over the dark lands

     And run upon the sea

     For seas and lands shall not divide us

     My love and me.

     Now, wind, of your good courtesy

     I pray you go,

     And come into her little garden

     And sing at her window;

     Singing: The bridal wind is blowing

     For Love is at his noon;

     And soon will your true love be with you,

     Soon, O soon.

XIV

     My dove, my beautiful one,

     Arise, arise!

     The night-dew lies

     Upon my lips and eyes.

     The odorous winds are weaving

     A music of sighs:

     Arise, arise,

     My dove, my beautiful one!

     I wait by the cedar tree,

     My sister, my love,

     White breast of the dove,

     My breast shall be your bed.

     The pale dew lies

     Like a veil on my head.

     My fair one, my fair dove,

     Arise, arise!

XV

     From dewy dreams, my soul, arise,

     From love's deep slumber and from death,

     For lo! the trees are full of sighs

     Whose leaves the morn admonisheth.

     Eastward the gradual dawn prevails

     Where softly-burning fires appear,

     Making to tremble all those veils

     Of grey and golden gossamer.

     While sweetly, gently, secretly,

     The flowery bells of morn are stirred

     And the wise choirs of faery

     Begin (innumerous!) to be heard.

XVI

     O cool is the valley now

     And there, love, will we go

     For many a choir is singing now

     Where Love did sometime go.

     And hear you not the thrushes calling,

     Calling us away?

     O cool and pleasant is the valley

     And there, love, will we stay.

XVII

     Because your voice was at my side

     I gave him pain,

     Because within my hand I held

     Your hand again.

     There is no word nor any sign

     Can make amend—

     He is a stranger to me now

     Who was my friend.

XVIII

     O Sweetheart, hear you

     Your lover's tale;

     A man shall have sorrow

     When friends him fail.

     For he shall know then

     Friends be untrue

     And a little ashes

     Their words come to.

     But one unto him

     Will softly move

     And softly woo him

     In ways of love.

     His hand is under

     Her smooth round breast;

     So he who has sorrow

     Shall have rest.

XIX

     Be not sad because all men

     Prefer a lying clamour before you:

     Sweetheart, be at peace again—

     Can they dishonour you?

     They are sadder than all tears;

     Their lives ascend as a continual sigh.

     Proudly answer to their tears:

     As they deny, deny.

XX

     In the dark pine-wood

     I would we lay,

     In deep cool shadow

     At noon of day.

     How sweet to lie there,

     Sweet to kiss,

     Where the great pine-forest

     Enaisled is!

     Thy kiss descending

     Sweeter were

     With a soft tumult

     Of thy hair.

     O unto the pine-wood

     At noon of day

     Come with me now,

     Sweet love, away.

XXI

     He who hath glory lost, nor hath

     Found any soul to fellow his,

     Among his foes in scorn and wrath

     Holding to ancient nobleness,

     That high unconsortable one—

     His love is his companion.

XXII

     Of that so sweet imprisonment

     My soul, dearest, is fain—

     Soft arms that woo me to relent

     And woo me to detain.

     Ah, could they ever hold me there

     Gladly were I a prisoner!

     Dearest, through interwoven arms

     By love made tremulous,

     That night allures me where alarms

     Nowise may trouble us;

     But sleep to dreamier sleep be wed

     Where soul with soul lies prisoned.

XXIII

     This heart that flutters near my heart

     My hope and all my riches is,

     Unhappy when we draw apart

     And happy between kiss and kiss:

     My hope and all my riches—yes!—

     And all my happiness.

     For there, as in some mossy nest

     The wrens will divers treasures keep,

     I laid those treasures I possessed

     Ere that mine eyes had learned to weep.

     Shall we not be as wise as they

     Though love live but a day?

XXIV

     Silently she's combing,

     Combing her long hair

     Silently and graciously,

     With many a pretty air.

     The sun is in the willow leaves

     And on the dapplled grass,

     And still she's combing her long hair

     Before the looking-glass.

     I pray you, cease to comb out,

     Comb out your long hair,

     For I have heard of witchery

     Under a pretty air,

     That makes as one thing to the lover

     Staying and going hence,

     All fair, with many a pretty air

     And many a negligence.

XXV

     Lightly come or lightly go:

     Though thy heart presage thee woe,

     Vales and many a wasted sun,

     Oread let thy laughter run,

     Till the irreverent mountain air

     Ripple all thy flying hair.

     Lightly, lightly—ever so:

     Clouds that wrap the vales below

     At the hour of evenstar

     Lowliest attendants are;

     Love and laughter song-confessed

     When the heart is heaviest.

XXVI

     Thou leanest to the shell of night,

     Dear lady, a divining ear.

     In that soft choiring of delight

     What sound hath made thy heart to fear?

     Seemed it of rivers rushing forth

     From the grey deserts of the north?

     That mood of thine

     Is his, if thou but scan it well,

     Who a mad tale bequeaths to us

     At ghosting hour conjurable—

     And all for some strange name he read

                In Purchas or in Holinshed.

XXVII

     Though I thy Mithridates were,

     Framed to defy the poison-dart,

     Yet must thou fold me unaware

     To know the rapture of thy heart,

     And I but render and confess

     The malice of thy tenderness.

     For elegant and antique phrase,

     Dearest, my lips wax all too wise;

     Nor have I known a love whose praise

     Our piping poets solemnize,

     Neither a love where may not be

     Ever so little falsity.

XXVIII

     Gentle lady, do not sing

     Sad songs about the end of love;

     Lay aside sadness and sing

     How love that passes is enough.

     Sing about the long deep sleep

     Of lovers that are dead, and how

     In the grave all love shall sleep:

     Love is aweary now.

XXIX

     Dear heart, why will you use me so?

     Dear eyes that gently me upbraid,

     Still are you beautiful—but O,

     How is your beauty raimented!

     Through the clear mirror of your eyes,

     Through the soft sigh of kiss to kiss,

     Desolate winds assail with cries

     The shadowy garden where love is.

     And soon shall love dissolved be

     When over us the wild winds blow—

     But you, dear love, too dear to me,

     Alas! why will you use me so?

XXX

     Love came to us in time gone by

     When one at twilight shyly played

     And one in fear was standing nigh—

     For Love at first is all afraid.

     We were grave lovers. Love is past

     That had his sweet hours many a one;

     Welcome to us now at the last

     The ways that we shall go upon.

XXXI

     O, it was out by Donnycarney

     When the bat flew from tree to tree

     My love and I did walk together;

     And sweet were the words she said to me.

     Along with us the summer wind

     Went murmuring—O, happily!—

     But softer than the breath of summer

     Was the kiss she gave to me.

XXXII

     Rain has fallen all the day.

     O come among the laden trees:

     The leaves lie thick upon the way

     Of memories.

     Staying a little by the way

     Of memories shall we depart.

     Come, my beloved, where I may

     Speak to your heart.

XXXIII

     Now, O now, in this brown land

     Where Love did so sweet music make

     We two shall wander, hand in hand,

     Forbearing for old friendship' sake,

     Nor grieve because our love was gay

     Which now is ended in this way.

     A rogue in red and yellow dress

     Is knocking, knocking at the tree;

     And all around our loneliness

     The wind is whistling merrily.

     The leaves—they do not sigh at all

     When the year takes them in the fall.

     Now, O now, we hear no more

     The vilanelle and roundelay!

     Yet will we kiss, sweetheart, before

     We take sad leave at close of day.

     Grieve not, sweetheart, for anything—

     The year, the year is gathering.

XXXIV

     Sleep now, O sleep now,

     O you unquiet heart!

     A voice crying "Sleep now"

     Is heard in my heart.

     The voice of the winter

     Is heard at the door.

     O sleep, for the winter

     Is crying "Sleep no more."

     My kiss will give peace now

     And quiet to your heart—

     Sleep on in peace now,

     O you unquiet heart!

XXXV

     All day I hear the noise of waters

     Making moan,

     Sad as the sea-bird is when, going

     Forth alone,

     He hears the winds cry to the water's

     Monotone.

     The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing

     Where I go.

     I hear the noise of many waters

     Far below.

     All day, all night, I hear them flowing

     To and fro.

XXXVI

     I hear an army charging upon the land,

     And the thunder of horses plunging, foam about their knees:

     Arrogant, in black armour, behind them stand,

     Disdaining the reins, with fluttering ships, the charioteers.

     They cry unto the night their battle-name:

     I moan in sleep when I hear afar their whirling laughter.

     They cleave the gloom of dreams, a blinding flame,

     Clanging, clanging upon the heart as upon an anvil.

     They come shaking in triumph their long, green hair:

     They come out of the sea and run shouting by the shore.

     My heart, have you no wisdom thus to despair?

     My love, my love, my love, why have you left me alone?