Robert Louis Stevenson; a Bookman extra number 1913/R. L. S.: An Early Portrait
R. L. S.
AN EARLY PORTRAIT
By Edmund Gosse
But one was there, the stripling of our crew,
Cynthius by name, a tall and nimble wight,
Most indiscreet he was, though kind and true;
In strange adventures both by day and night
This restless being took his sole delight;
And oft we quaked to mark his aspect sly,
As hand on hip, deep in the evening light,
He taught those townsfolk, with an earnest eye,
Of things that never were in earth or sea or sky.
Cynthius by name, a tall and nimble wight,
Most indiscreet he was, though kind and true;
In strange adventures both by day and night
This restless being took his sole delight;
And oft we quaked to mark his aspect sly,
As hand on hip, deep in the evening light,
He taught those townsfolk, with an earnest eye,
Of things that never were in earth or sea or sky.
Little he loved the quiet Dorian ways,
To plastic beauty he was somewhat blind;
The luscious stillness of those blissful days
Hung like a cloud upon his cheerful mind,
Nor pleasure in processions could he find;
Nor blew the flute, nor plucked the lyre-string tense,
No fillet round his temples would he bind,
But lashed the poets for their lack of sense,
And rated with his tongue the athlete's indolence.
To plastic beauty he was somewhat blind;
The luscious stillness of those blissful days
Hung like a cloud upon his cheerful mind,
Nor pleasure in processions could he find;
Nor blew the flute, nor plucked the lyre-string tense,
No fillet round his temples would he bind,
But lashed the poets for their lack of sense,
And rated with his tongue the athlete's indolence.
Yet was he, for all this, the chief delight
Of racer, bard, artificer and sage,
Who clustered round their captious favourite,
And smiled to hear the youthful stoic wage
Fantastic war against a nobler age;
But we, who knew him best, shuddered to see,
Like some fierce creature in a feeble cage,
His twinkling eye, grown restive, long to be
Alert on some new scheme of daring devilry.
Of racer, bard, artificer and sage,
Who clustered round their captious favourite,
And smiled to hear the youthful stoic wage
Fantastic war against a nobler age;
But we, who knew him best, shuddered to see,
Like some fierce creature in a feeble cage,
His twinkling eye, grown restive, long to be
Alert on some new scheme of daring devilry.