UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 jil/M^M )!rlmi 
 
 -vr^i//(/'^ 
 
 KJ I 
 
 iio 
 
 1^1 ''I
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 POEMS AND BALLADS 
 THE GOLDEN POMP 
 THE WHITE WOLF 
 THE MAYOR OF TROV 
 MERRY-GARDEN 
 MAJOR VIGOUREUX
 
 THE 
 
 VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS BY 
 
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 SECOND EDITION 
 
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 TO MAURICE HEWLETT 
 
 Hewlett ! as ship to ship 
 Let us the ensign dip. 
 There may be who despise 
 For dross our merchandise. 
 Our balladries, our bales 
 
 Of woven tales ; 
 Yet, Hewlett, the glad gales 
 
 ^ Favonian ! And what spray 
 
 =5 
 
 Our dolphins toss'd in play, 
 Full in old Triton's beard, on Iris' shimmering veils ! 
 
 Scant tho' the freight of gold 
 
 -I 
 ■<. 
 
 I I 
 
 aa Commercial in our hold, 
 
 • Paestum, Eridanus 
 
 Perchance have barter'd us 
 'Bove chrematistic care 
 
 V 
 
 436888
 
 TO MAURICE HEWLETT 
 
 Some precious, rare, 
 Unaiarket<ible ware ; 
 Or amber to bedeck 
 A Grace's naked neck. 
 Or transient rose, yet meet to braid Apollo's hair. 
 
 Boon further wouldst thou beg 
 Of Jove ? Then I've a keg 
 Of Coan in the waist. 
 Come, row aboard, and taste 
 The glorifying juice 
 
 That wise men use 
 And onlv fools refuse ! 
 'Twill teach thee tolerate 
 All rubs of human fate. 
 The which to mitigate are lent the Vine, the Muse. 
 
 Q 
 
 VI
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 The Vigil of Venus 
 
 1 
 
 The Regent : A Dram.\ 
 
 25 
 
 ExMOOR Verses — 
 
 
 I. Vashti's Song . 
 
 73 
 
 II. Saturn 
 
 74 
 
 III. Dereliction 
 
 75 
 
 Two Folk Songs — 
 
 
 I. The Soldier . 
 
 77 
 
 II. The Marine . 
 
 79 
 
 Mary Leslie .... 
 
 83 
 
 Jenifer's Love .... 
 
 8fi 
 
 Two Duets .... 
 
 88 
 
 The Statues and the Tear 
 
 93 
 
 XuPTiAL Night .... 
 
 95 
 
 Hesperus .... 
 
 97 
 
 Chant Royal op High V^irtue 
 
 98 
 
 Coronation Hymn 
 
 . 102 
 
 Three Men of Truro — 
 
 
 I. E. W. B. . . . 
 
 . 10.5 
 
 IL A. B. D. 
 
 . 108 
 
 III. C. W. S. . . . 
 
 . 110 
 
 Aljia Mater .... 
 
 112 
 
 Vll
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Christmas Evk , . . . . .116 
 
 The Root . . . . .120 
 
 To A Fbiknd who sknt Mk a Box ok \'iolkts . 122 
 
 Of Three Children choosing a Chaplkt of Verse 127 
 Ei'iLOGUE : To a Mother, on seeing her Smile re- 
 peated IN her Daughter's Eyes . . 137 
 
 viu
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 The PeriiigiUum Veneris — of unknown autliorship, but clearly 
 belonging' to tlie late literature of the Roman F^mpire — 
 has survived in two MSS., both preserved at Paris in the 
 Bibliothcque Nationule. 
 
 Of these two MSS. the better written may be assigned 
 (at earliest) to the close of the seventh century ; the other 
 (again at earliest) to the close of the ninth. Both are 
 corrupt ; the work of two illiterate copyists who — strange 
 to say — were both smatterers enough to l)etray their little 
 knowledge by converting Pervigilium into Per I'iryilinm 
 {scilicet, " by Virgil ") : thus helping us to follow the 
 process of thought by which the Middle Ages turned Virgil 
 into a wizard. Here and there the texts become quite 
 silly, separately or in consent ; and just where they agree 
 in the most surprising way — i.e. in the arrangement of 
 the lines — the conjectural emendator is invited to do his 
 worst by a note at the head of the older Codex, " Sunt 
 vero versus xxii" — "There are rightly twenty-two lines." 
 
 This has started much ingenious guess-work. But no 
 really convincing rearrangement has been achieved as yet ; 
 and I have been content to take the text pretty well as it 
 stands, with a few corrections upon which most scholars
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 agree. AV^itli a poem of " paratactic structure" the best 
 of us may easily go astray by transposing lines, or blocks 
 of lines, to correspond with our sequence of thought ; and I 
 shall be content if, following the only texts to which appeal 
 can be made/ my translation be generally intelligible. 
 
 It runs pretty closely, line for line, with the original ; 
 because one may love and emulate classical terseness even 
 while despairing to rival it. But it does not attempt to 
 be literal ; for even were it worth doing, I doubt if it be 
 possible for anyone in our day to hit precisely the note 
 intended by an author or heard by a reader in the eighth I 
 century. Men change subtly as nations succeed to nations, 
 religions to religions, philosophies to philosophies ; and it 
 is a property of immortal poetry to shift its appeal. It does 
 not live by continuing to mean the some thing. It grows 
 as we grow. We smile, for instance, when some interlocutor 
 in a dialogue of Plato takes a line from the Iliad and 
 applies it seriously cm pied de la lettre. We can hardly 
 conceive what the great line conveyed to him ; but it may 
 mean something equally serious to us, though in a diiferent 
 way. 
 
 1 Facsimiles of the two Codices can be studied in a careful edition 
 of the Pervigilium by Mr Cecil dementi, published by Mr B. H 
 Blackwell of Oxford, 1911.
 
 PERVIGILIUM VENERIS 
 
 Cras amet qui niinquam amavit ; quique amaint eras 
 
 amet. 
 Ver novum, ver jam canorum, vere natus orbis est ; 
 Vere concordant amores, vere nubunt alites, 
 Et nemus comam resolvit de maritis imbribus. 
 5 Cras amorum copulatrix inter umbras arborum 
 Inplicat casas virentes de flagello myrteo: 
 Cras Dione jura dicit fulta sublimi throno. 
 Cras amet qui nunquam amavit ; quiqiie amavit cras 
 amet.
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 To-morrow — What news oj to-morrow ? 
 
 Noiv learn ye to love who loved never — now ye who 
 have loved, love anew ! 
 
 It is Spring, it is chorussing Spring ; 'tis the 
 birthday of Earth, and for you ! 
 
 It is Spring ; and the Loves and the birds wing to- 
 gether and woo to accord 
 
 Where the bough to the rain has unbraided her 
 locks as a bride to her loi'd. 
 5 For she walks — she our Lady, our Mistress of 
 Wedlock- — the woodlands atween, 
 
 And the bride-bed she weaves them, with myrtle 
 enlacing, with curtains of green. 
 
 Look aloft ! list the law of Dione, sublime and en- 
 throned in the blue : 
 
 Vow learn ye to love who loved never — now ye who have 
 loved, love anetv ! 
 
 5
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 Tunc liquore de superiio spumeo et ponti globo, 
 10 Caerulas inter catervas, inter et bipedes equos, 
 Fecit undantem Dionen de maritis imbribus. 
 Cras atnct qui nunquam amavil ; quique amavit eras 
 amet. 
 
 Ipsa gemmis purpurantem pingit annum floribus, 
 Ipsa surgentes papillas de Favoni spiritu 
 15 Urget in toros tepentes ; ipsa roris lucidi 
 
 Noctis aura quern relinquit, spargit umentes aquas. 
 Et micant lacrimae trementes de caduco pondere :
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 Time was that a rain-cloud begat her, impregning 
 
 the heave of the deep, 
 10 'Twixt hooves of sea-horses a-scatter, stampeding 
 
 the dolphins as sheep. 
 Lo! arose of that bridal Dione, rainbow'd and 
 
 besprent of its dew ! 
 Now learn ye to love who loved never — now ye who have 
 
 loved, love anew ! 
 
 She, she, with her gem-dripping finger enamels the 
 
 wreath of the year ; 
 She, she, when the maid-bud is nubile and swelling 
 
 winds — whispers anear, 
 15 Disguising her voice in the Zephyr's — "So secret 
 
 the bed ! And thou shy ? " 
 She, she, thro' the hush'd humid Midsummer night 
 
 draws the dew from on high ; 
 Dew bright with the tears of its origin, dew with 
 
 its weight on the bough, 
 
 7
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 Gutta praeceps orbe parvo sustinet casus suos. 
 
 En, pudorem florulentae prodiderunt purpura' : 
 20 Umor ille quern serenis astra rorant noctibus 
 
 Mane virgineas papillas solvit umenti peplo. 
 
 Ipsa jussit mane ut uda? virgines nubant rosaj ; 
 
 Fusa Paphies de cruore deque Amoris osculis 
 
 Deque gemmis deque flammis deque solis i)urpuris, 
 25 Cras ruborem qui latebat veste tectus ignea 
 
 Unico marita nodo non pudebit solvere. 
 
 Cras aynet qui luinquam amavit ; quique amavit cras 
 amel. 
 
 8
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 Misdoubting and clinging and trembling — " Now, 
 
 now must I fall ? Is it now ? " 
 Star-fleck'd on the stem of the brier as it gathers 
 
 and falters and flows, 
 20 Lo ! its trail runs a ripple of fire on the nipple it 
 
 bids be a rose, 
 Yet englobes it diaphanous, veil upon veil in a 
 
 tiffany drawn 
 To bedrape the small virginal breasts yet unripe 
 
 for the spousal of dawn ; 
 Till the vein'd very vermeil of Venus, till Cupid's 
 
 incarnadine kiss, 
 Till the ray of the ruby, the sunrise, ensanguine the 
 
 bath of her bliss ; 
 25 Till the wimple her bosom uncover, a tissue of fire 
 
 to the view, 
 And the zone o'er the wrists of the lover slip down 
 
 as they reach to undo. 
 Now learn ye to love who loved never — now ye who have 
 
 loved, love anew !
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 Ipsa nj'mphas diva luco jussit ire myrteo : 
 
 It puer comes puellis. Nee tamen credi potest 
 
 30 Esse Amorem feriatum, si sagittas vexerit. 
 Ite, nymphiE, posuit arma, feriatus est Amor ; 
 Jussus est inermis ire, nudus ire jussus est, 
 Neu quid arcu, neu sagitta, neu quid igne la-deret ; 
 Sed tamen nymphae cavete, quod Cupido pulcher 
 est; 
 
 35 Est in armis totus idem quando nudus est Amor ! 
 
 Cras amet (pa nunquam amavit ; qinque amuvit eras 
 
 amet. 
 Conpari Venus pudore niittit ad te virgines : 
 
 lO
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 "Go, maidens," Our Lady commands, "while the 
 
 myrtle is green in the groves. 
 Take the Boy to your escort." " But ah ! " cry the 
 
 maidens, " what trust is in Love's 
 30 Keeping holiday too, while he weareth his archery, 
 
 tools of his trade ? " 
 " Go ! he lays them aside, an apprentice released ; 
 
 ye may wend unafraid. 
 See, I bid him disarm, he disarms ; mother-naked I 
 
 bid him to go. 
 And he goes mother-naked. What flame can he 
 
 shoot without arrow or bow ? " 
 Yet beware ye of Cupid, ye maidens ! Beware 
 
 most of all when he charms 
 35 As a child : for the more he runs naked, the more 
 
 he's a strong man-at-arms. 
 
 Now learn ye to love who loved never — now ye who have 
 
 loved, love anew ! 
 
 " Lady Dian " — Behold how demurely the damsels 
 
 approach her and sue — 
 II
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 Una res est quam ro^amus : cede, virgo Delia, 
 Ut nemus sit incruentum de ferinis strajribus. 
 
 40 Ipsa vellet ut venires, si deceret virginem : 
 Jam tribus choros videres feriatos noctibus 
 Congreges inter catervas ire per saltus tuos, 
 Floreas inter coronas, myrteas inter casas : 
 Nee Ceres nee Bacchus absunt, nee poetarum Deus ; 
 
 45 De tenente tota nox est pervigilia canticis : 
 Regnet in silvis Dione ; tu recede, Delia. 
 Cms amct (jui miniiuam amavit ; (juiqnc aiiiavil eras 
 amet. 
 
 12
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 " Hear Venus her only petition ! Dear maiden of 
 
 Delos, depart ! 
 Let the forest be bloodless to-day, unmolested the 
 
 roe and the hart ! 
 40 Holy huntress, thyself she would bid be her guest, 
 
 could thy chastity stoop 
 To approve of our revels, our dances — three 
 
 nights that we weave in a troop 
 Arm-in-arm thro' thy sanctu'ries whirling, till faint 
 
 and dispersed in the grove 
 We lie with thy lilies for chajjlets, thy myrtles for 
 
 arbours of love : 
 And Apollo, with Ceres and Bacchus to chorus — 
 
 song, harvest, and wine — 
 45 Hymns thee dispossess'd, " ' Tis Dione who reigns ! 
 
 Let Diana resign ! " 
 O, the wonderful nights of Dione ! dark bough, 
 
 with her star shining thro' ! 
 
 Now learn ye to love who loved never — now ye who have 
 
 laved, Imie anew ! 
 
 13
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 Jussit Hyblaeis tribunal stare diva floribus ; 
 Praeses ipsa jura dicit, adsederunt Gratia?. 
 50 Hybla, totos funde flores quidquid annus adtulit ; 
 Hybla, florum runipe vestem quantus JEtrnv campus 
 
 est. 
 Ruris hie erunt puellae, vel puellee montium, 
 Quaeque silvas, quaeque lucos, quaeque fontes in- 
 
 colunt : 
 Jussit omnes adsidere mater alitis dei, 
 55 Jussit et nudo puellas nil Amori credere. 
 
 Cras amel qui uidujuuih amavit ; (/iiique amavit eras 
 
 amel. 
 
 14
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 She has set up her court, has Our Lady, in Hybla, 
 
 and deckt it with blooms : — 
 With the Graces at hand for assessors Dione dis- 
 penses her dooms. 
 50 Now burgeon, O Hybla ! put forth and abound, till 
 
 Proserpina's field. 
 To the foison thy lap overflowing its laurel of Sicily 
 
 yield. 
 Call, assemble the nymphs — hamadryad and dryad — 
 
 the echoes who court 
 From the rock, who the rushes inhabit, in ripples 
 
 who swim and disport. 
 " I admonish you maids — I, his mother, who suckled 
 
 the scamp ere he flew — 
 55 An ye trust to the Boy flying naked, some pestilent 
 
 prank ye shall rue." 
 Now learn ye to love who loved never — now ye who have 
 
 loved, love anew !
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 Et rigentibus virentes ducit umbras floribus : 
 Cras erit quum primus ."Ether copulavit nuptias, 
 Et pater totum creavit vernis annum nul)ibus. 
 
 60 In sinum maritus imber fluxit almae conjugis, 
 Unde fetus mixtus omnes aleret magno corpore. 
 Ipsa venas atque mentem permeanti spiritu 
 Intus occultis gubernat procreatrix viribus, 
 Perque caelum, perque terras, perque pontum 
 subditum 
 
 65 Pervium sui tenorem seminali tramite 
 
 16
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 She has coax'd her the shade of the hazel to cover 
 
 the wind-flower's birth, 
 Since the day the Great Father begat it, descending 
 
 in streams upon Earth ; 
 When the Seasons Avere hid in his loins, and the 
 
 Earth lay recumbent, a wife, 
 60 To receive in the searching and genital shower the 
 
 soft secret of life. 
 As the terrible thighs drew it down, and conceived, 
 
 as the embryo ran 
 Thoro' blood, thoro' brain, and the Mother gave all 
 
 to the making of man, 
 She, she, our Dione, directed the seminal current to 
 
 creep. 
 Penetrating, possessing, by devious paths all the 
 
 height, all the deep. 
 65 She, of all procreation procuress, the share to the 
 
 furrow laid true ; 
 
 17
 
 THK VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 Inbuit, jussitque mundum nosse nascendi vias. 
 Cras atiiel qui nuntjuam amavit ; quujuc amavit eras 
 amet. 
 
 Ipsa Trojanos nepotes in Latinos transtulit. 
 Ipsa Laurentem puellam conjugem nato dedit ; 
 70 Moxque Marti de sacello dat pudicam virginem ; 
 Romuleas ipsa fecit cum Sabinis nuptias, 
 Unde Ramnes et Quirites proque prole posterum 
 Romuli raatrem crearet et nepotem Ca?sareni. 
 Cras cimeL qui nunquavi amavit ; quique amavit cras 
 amet. 
 
 i8
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 She, she, to the womb drave the knowledge, and 
 
 open'd the ecstasy through. 
 Now learn ye to love who loved never — now ye who have 
 
 loved, love anew ! 
 
 Her favour it was fill'd the sail of the Trojan for 
 
 Latium bound ; 
 Her favour that won her ^Eneas a bride on Lauren- 
 
 tian ground, 
 70 And anon from the cloister inveigled the Virgin, the 
 
 V^estal, to Mars ; 
 As her wit by the wild Sabine rape recreated her 
 
 Rome for its wars. 
 With the Ramnes, Quirites, together ancestrally 
 
 proud as they drew 
 From Romulus down to our Cajsar — last, best of that 
 
 bone, of that thew. 
 No7v learn ye to love who loved never — now ye who have 
 
 loved, love anew J 
 
 19
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 75 Rura fecundat voliiptas: rura Venerem sentiunt : 
 Ipse Amor piier Diona? rure natus dicitur. 
 Hunc ager, cum parturiret ipsa, suscepit sinu : 
 Ipsa florum delicatis educavit osculis. 
 Cras amet qui ninujuam amavil ; (luujuc aviavil nus 
 amet. 
 
 80 Ecce jam super genestas explicant tauri latus, 
 Quisque tutus quo tenetur conjugal! federe : 
 Subter umbras cum maritis ecce balantum greges ; 
 Et canoras non tacere diva jussit alites. 
 
 20
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 75 Pleasure planteth a field ; it conceives to the passion, 
 
 the pang, of his joy. 
 In a field was Dione in labour delivered of Cupid the 
 
 Boy; 
 And the field in its fostering lap from her travail 
 
 received him : he drew^ 
 Mother's milk from the delicate kisses of flowers ; 
 
 and he prosper' d and grew — 
 No?v learn ye to love who loved never — now ye who have 
 
 loved, love anew ! 
 
 80 Lo ! behold ye the bulls, with how lordly a flank 
 
 they besprawl on the broom ! — 
 Yet obey the uxorious yoke, and are tamed to 
 
 Dione her doom. 
 Or behear ye the sheep, to the husbanding rams 
 
 how they bleat to the shade ! 
 Or behear ye the birds, at the Goddess' command 
 
 how they sing unafraid ! 
 
 21
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 Jam loquaces ore rauco stagna cycni perstrepunt ; 
 85 Adsonat Terei puella subter umbram populi, 
 
 Ut putes motus amoris ore dici musico, 
 
 Et neges queri sororem de marito barbaro. 
 
 Ilia cantat, nos tacemus. Quando ver venit meum? 
 
 Quando fiam uti chelidon, ut tacere desinam ? 
 90 Perdidi Musam tacendo, nee me Apollo respicit ; 
 
 Sic AmyclaSj cum tacerent, perdidit silentium. 
 
 Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavil eras 
 aviet. 
 
 22
 
 THE VIGIL OF VENUS 
 
 Be it harsh as the swannery's clamour that shatters 
 the hush of the lake, 
 85 Be it dulcet as where Philomela holds darkling the 
 poplar awake, 
 So melting her soul into music, you'd vow 'twas her 
 
 passion, her own, 
 She plaineth — her sister forgot, with the Daulian 
 
 crime long-agone. 
 Hark ! Hush ! Draw around to the circle . . . Ah, 
 
 loitering Summer ! Say when 
 For me shall be broken the charm, that I chirp with 
 the swallow again ? 
 90 I am old ; I am dumb ; I have waited to sing till 
 Apollo withdrew — 
 So Amyclae a moment was mute, and for ever a 
 
 wilderness grew. 
 Now learn ye to love who loved never — notv ye who have 
 loved, love anew, 
 
 To-morrow ! — to-morrow ! 
 
 23
 
 TO 
 
 CHARLES THURSBY
 
 THE REGExNT 
 A DRAMA IN ONE ACT
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 Cari/antonio, Duke of Adria 
 
 ToNiNO, his young son 
 
 Lucio, Count of Vallescura, brother to the Duchess 
 
 Cesario, Captain of the Guard 
 
 Gamba, a Fool 
 
 ()ttii.ia, Duchess and Regent of Adria 
 LucETTA, a Lady-in- Waiting 
 FuLviAj a Lady of the Court 
 
 Courtiers, Priests, Choristers, Soldiers, Mariners, 
 Townsfolk, etc. 
 
 The Scene is the Ducal Palace of Adria, in the N. Adriatic 
 
 The Date, 1571
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Scene. — A terraced courtyard before the Ducal Palace. 
 Porch and entrance of Chapel, R, A semicircular 
 balco?iy, L., ?vith balustrade and marble seats, and an 
 opening 7vhence a Jiight of steps leads down to the 
 city. The city lies out of sight below the terrace ; 
 from which, between its cypresses and statuary, is 
 seen a straight stretch of a canal ; beyond the canal are 
 sand-hill^ and the line of the open sea. Mountains, 
 L., dip down to the sea and form a curve of the 
 coast. 
 
 As the curtain rises, a crowd of town and country 
 folk is being herded to the back of the terrace by the 
 Ducal Guard, under Cesario. Within the Chapel, to 
 
 27
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 the sound of an orgmi, boys' voices are chanting the 
 service of the Mass. 
 
 Cesario, Gamba the Fool, Guards, Populace. 
 
 Cesario. Way there ! Give room ! The Regent comes 
 from Mass. 
 Guards^ butt them on the toes — way there ! give 
 
 room ! 
 Prick me that laggard's leg — importunate fools ! 
 Guards. Room for the Regent ! Room ! 
 
 \Thc sacring bell rings within the Chapel. 
 Cesario. Hark there, the bell ! 
 
 [/)( patise. Men of the crowd take off their caps. 
 Gjuld ye not leave, this day of all the year. 
 Your silly suits, petitions, quarrels, pleas ? 
 Could ye not leave, this once in seven years, 
 Our Lady to come holy-quiet from Mass. 
 Lean on the wall, and loose her cage-bird 
 heart, 
 
 28
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 To lift and breast and dance upon the breeze. 
 Draws home her lord the Duke ? 
 
 Cratvd. Long live the Duke ! 
 
 Cesario. The devil, then ! Why darken his approach ? 
 
 Gamba (from the bench where he has been mending his 
 viol). Because, Captain, 'tis a property knaves 
 and fools have in common — to stand in their own 
 light, as 'tis of soldiers to talk bad logic. That 
 knave, now — he with the red nose and the black 
 eye — the Duke's colours, loyal man ! — you clap 
 an iron on his leg, and ask him why he is not 
 down in the city, hanging them out of window ! 
 Go to : you are a soldier ! 
 
 Cesario. And you a Fool, and on your own showing 
 stand in your own light. 
 
 Gamba. Nay, neither in my own light, nor as a 
 
 Fool. So should myself stand between the sun 
 
 and my shadow ; whereas I am not myself— these 
 
 seven years have I been but the shadow of a 
 
 29
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Fool. Yet one must tune up for the Duke. 
 {Strikes his viol and si7igs.) 
 
 " Bird of the South, my Kondinello " 
 
 Flat— Flat ! 
 Cesario (calling up to nmtchman on the Chapel roof). Ho, 
 
 there ! What news } 
 A Voice. Cajitain, no sail ! 
 
 Cesario. Where sits 
 
 The wind } 
 Voice. Nor' west, and north a point ! 
 
 Cesario. Perchance 
 
 They have down'd sail and creep around the 
 flats. 
 Gamba {tuning his viol). Flats, flats! the straight 
 horizon, and the life 
 These seven years laid by rule ! The curst 
 
 canal 
 Drawn level through the drawn-out level sand 
 And thistle-tufts that stink as soon as pluck'd ! 
 
 30
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Give me the hot crag and the dancing heat. 
 Give me the Abruzzi, and the cushioned thyme — 
 Brooks at my feet, high glittering snovi's above. 
 What were thy music, viol, without a ridge .'' 
 
 [A"oi*e of commotion in the city belofv. 
 Cesario. Watchman, what news ? 
 
 A Voice. Sir, on the sea no sail ! 
 
 One ofthe Crowd. But through the town below a horse- 
 man spurs — 
 I think. Count Lucio ! Yes — Count Lucio ! 
 He nears, draws rein, dismounts ! 
 Cesario. Sure, he brings news. 
 
 Gamba. I think he brings word the Duke is sick ; 
 his loyal folk have drunk so much of his 
 health. 
 
 \A. murmtir has been growing in the town below. It 
 breaks into cheers as Count Lucio comes spring- 
 ing up to the terrace. 
 
 31
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Enter Lttcio. 
 Lncio. News I Where's the Regent ? Eh ? is Mass not 
 said ? 
 
 Cesario, news ! I rode across the dunes ; 
 
 A pilot — Nestore — you know the man — 
 
 Came panting. Sixteen sail beyond the point ! 
 
 That's not a galley lost ! 
 Crowd. Long live the Duke ! 
 
 Lucio. Hark to the tocsin ! I have carried fire — 
 
 Wildfire ! Why, where's my sister? I've a mind 
 
 [//e sf rides towards the door of the Chapel ; but 
 pauses at the sound of chanting /rithin, and 
 comes back to Cesario. 
 Man, are you mute ? I say the town's aflame 
 Below ! But here, up here, you stand and stare 
 Like prisoners loosed to daylight. Rub your eyes, 
 Believe ! 
 Cesario {iruising). It has been long. 
 Lucio. As tapestry 
 
 32
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Pricked out by women's needles ; point-device 
 As saints in fitted haloes. Yet they stab, 
 Those needles. Oh, the devil take their tongues ! 
 Cesario. Why, what's the matter .' 
 
 Lucio. P'st ! another lie 
 
 Against the Countess Fulvia ; and the train 
 Laid to my sister's ear. Cesario, 
 My sister is a saint — and yet she married : 
 Therefore should understand . . . Would saints, like 
 
 cobblers. 
 Stick but to business in this naughty world ! 
 Ah, Avell ! the Duke comes home. 
 
 Cesario. And what of that } 
 
 Lucio. Release ! 
 
 Cesario. Release ? 
 
 Liicio (^mocking a chant within the Chapel). From priests 
 and petticoats 
 Deliver us. Good Lord ! 
 
 Gamba {strikes a chord on viol). Amen ! 
 
 3 ZZ
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Cesario. Count Lucio, 
 
 These seven years agone, when the Duke sailed, 
 You were a child — a pretty, forward boy ; 
 And I a young lieutenant of the Guard, 
 Burning to serve abroad. But that day, rather, 
 I clenched my nails over an inward wound : 
 For that a something manlier than my years — 
 Look, bearing, what-not — by the Duke not miss'd, 
 Condemned me to promotion : I must bide 
 At home, command the Guard ! 'Tis an old hurt, 
 But scalded on my memory. . . . Well, they sailed ! 
 And from the terrace here, sick with self-pity. 
 Wrapped in my wrong, forgetful of devoir, 
 I watch'd them through a mist — turned with a sob — 
 
 Uptore my rooted sight 
 
 There, there she stood ; 
 Her hand press'd to her girdle, where the babe 
 Stirred in her body while she gazed — she gazed — 
 But slowly back controlled her eyes, met mine ; 
 
 34
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 So — with how wan, how small, how brave a smile! 
 
 Reached me her hands to kiss . . . 
 
 O royal hands ! 
 What burdens since they have borne let Adria tell. 
 But hear me swear by them. Count Lucio — 
 Who slights our Regent throws his glove to me. 
 
 Lucio. Why, soothly, she's my sister ! 
 
 Cesario. < But the court 
 
 Is dull.^ No masques, few banquetings — and 
 
 prayers 
 Be long, and youth for pastime leaps the gate } ' 
 Yet if the money husbanded on feasts 
 Have fed our soldiery against the Turk, 
 Year after year, and still the State not starved ; 
 Was't not well done ? And if, responsible 
 To God, and lonely, she has leaned on God 
 
 Too heavily for our patience, was't not wise .^ 
 
 And well, though weary ? 
 
 Lucio. I tell you, she's my sister 1 
 
 35
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Cesario. Well, an you will, bridle on that. Lord 
 Lucio, 
 
 You named the Gjuntess Fulvia. To my sorrow, 
 
 Two hours ago I called on her and laid her 
 
 Under arrest. 
 Lucio. The devil ! For what ? 
 
 Cesario. For that 
 
 A lady, whose lord keeps summer in the hills 
 
 To nurse a gouty foot, should penalize 
 
 His dutiful return by shutting doors 
 
 And hanging out a ladder made of rope, 
 
 Or prove its safety by rehearsing it 
 
 Upon a heavier man. 
 Lucio. I'll go to her. 
 
 Oh, this is infamous ! 
 Cesario. Nay, be advised : 
 
 No hardship irks the lady, save to sit 
 
 At home and feed her sparrows ; nor no worse 
 
 Annoy than from her balcony to spy 
 
 36
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 (Should the ej-e rove) a Switzer of the Guard 
 At post between her raspberry-canes, to watch 
 And fright the thrushes from forbidden fruit. 
 Lucio. Infamous ! infamous ! 
 
 Cesario. Enough, my lord : 
 
 The Regent ! 
 
 [Doors of the Chapel open. The organ sounds, 
 with voices of choir cha7iting the recessional. 
 The Court enters from Mass, attending the 
 Regent Ottilia and her son Tonino. She tvears 
 a cronm and heavy dalmatic. Her brother 
 Lucio, controlling hiynself n'ith an effort, kisses 
 her hand and conducts her to the marble bench, 
 which serves Jor her Chair of State. She bows, 
 receiving the homage of the cratvd ; but, after 
 seating herself, appears for a few moments un- 
 conscious of her surroundings. Then, as her 
 rosary slips from her fingers and falls heavily 
 at her feet, she speaks. 
 
 37 
 
 o
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Regent. So slips the chain linkinjr this world with Heaven, 
 And drops me back to earth : so slips the chain 
 That hanjTs my spirit to the Redeemer's cross 
 Above pollution in the pure swept air 
 Whereunder frets this hive : so slips the chain — 
 (She starts vp) — God ! the dear sound ! Was that 
 
 his anchor dropped ? 
 Speak to the watchman, one 1 Call to the watch ! 
 What news ? 
 
 Cesario. Aloft ! What news ? 
 
 Foice above. No sail as yet ! 
 
 Regent. Ah, pardon, sirs ! My ears are strung to-day. 
 And play false airs invented by the wind. 
 Methought a hawse-pipe rattled . . . 
 
 Gamba {chants to his viol). Shepherds, sec— 
 
 Lo ! What a mariner love hath made me ! 
 
 Resent. What chants the Fool ? 
 
 Gamba. Madonna, 'tis a trifle 
 
 Made by a silly poet on wives that stand 
 
 38
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 All night at windows listening the surf — 
 Now he comes ! Will he come ? Alas ! no, no ! 
 Liicio. Peace, lively ! Madam, there is news — brave 
 news ! 
 I'm from the watch-house. There the pilots tell 
 Of sixteen sail to the southward ! Sixteen sail. 
 And nearing fast ! 
 Regent. Praise God ! dear Lucio ! 
 
 [^She has seated herself again. She takes Lucio's 
 hand and speaks, petting it. 
 What ? Glowing with my happiness ? That's 
 
 like you. 
 But for yourself the hour, too, holds release. 
 Lucio (between sullenness and shame, with a glance at 
 
 Cesa^io). " Release .'' " 
 Regent. You will forgive .'' I have great need 
 
 To be forgiven : sadly I have been slack 
 In guardianship, and by so much betrayed 
 My promise to our mother's passing soul. 
 
 39
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Myself in cares immersed, I left the child 
 Among his toys — and turn to find him man — 
 But yet so much a boy that boyhood can 
 ( Wistfidly) Laugh in his honest eyes ? Forgive me, 
 
 Lucio ! 
 Tell me, whate'er have slackened, there has slipped 
 No knot of love. To-morrow we'll make sport, 
 Be playmates and invent new games, and old — 
 
 Wreath flowers for crowns 
 
 [//(' drags his hand away. She gazes al him 
 TvistfuUy, and turns to the Captain of the 
 Guard. 
 
 Cesario, 
 What are the suits ? 
 Cesario. They are but three to-day, 
 
 Madonna. First, a scoundrel here in irons 
 For having struck the Guard. 
 liegent (eying the culprit). His name, I think. 
 
 Is Donatello Crocco. Hey ? You improve, 
 
 40
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Good man. The last time 'twas your wife you basted. 
 At this rate, in another year or two 
 You'll bang the Turk. Do you confess the assault ? 
 Prisoner. I do. 
 
 Regent. Upon a promise we dismiss you. 
 
 Your tavern, as it comes into our mind, 
 Is the ' Three Cups.' So many, and no more, 
 You'll drink to-day — have we your word.^ Three 
 
 cups, 
 And each a Viva for the Duke's return. 
 Prisoner. Your Highness, I'll not take it at the price 
 Of my good manners. I'm a gallant man : 
 And who in Adria calls -Three cheers for the 
 
 Duke ! ' 
 But adds a fourth for the Duchess } Lady, nay ; 
 Grant me that fourth, or back I go to the cells ! 
 [The Regent laughs and nods to the Guard to release 
 him. 
 Regent. What next .'' 
 
 41
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 An Old Woman {very rapidlij). Your Highness will not 
 know me — Zia 
 Agnese, Giovannucci's wife that was ; 
 And feed a two-three cows, as a widoAv may, 
 On the marshes where the grass is salt and sweet, 
 As your Highness knows — and always true to pail 
 Until this Nicolo 
 
 Nicolo. Lies ! lies, your Highness ! 
 
 Old Woman. Having a quarrel, puts the evil eye 
 On Serafina. She's my best of cows. 
 In stall with calf but ten days weaned. 
 
 Nicolo. Lies ! lies ! 
 
 Old Womati. I would your Highness saw her! When 
 that thief 
 Hangs upon Lazarus' bosom, he'll be bidding 
 A ducat for each drop of milk he's cost me, 
 To cool his tongue. 
 
 Regent. Ay — ay, the cow is sick, 
 
 I think ; and mind me, being country-bred, 
 
 4»
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Of a cure for such : which is, to buy a comb 
 And comb the sufferer's tail at feeding-time. 
 If Zia Agnese do but this, she'll counter 
 The Evil Eye, and maybe with her own 
 Detect who thieves her Serafina's hay. 
 Old Womaji. 
 
 God bless your Highness 
 Nicolo. } 
 
 Regent {taking up a fresh suit). Why, what's here? 
 " Costanza, 
 
 Wife of Giuseppe Boni, citeth him 
 
 Arid sueth to live separate, for neglect 
 
 And divers beatings^ as to wit " H'm, h'm — 
 
 Likewise to keep the child Geronimo, 
 
 Begotten of his body. You defend 
 
 The suit, Giuseppe .'' 
 A Young Peasant (shrugs his shoidders). As the woman will ! 
 
 I'll not deny I beat her. 
 Regent. But neglect ! 
 
 How came you to neglect her ? Look on her — 
 
 43
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 The handsome, frowsy slut, that, by appearance. 
 Hath never washed her body since she wed. 
 A beating we might pass. But how neglect 
 To take her by the neck unto the pump 
 And hold her till her wet and furious face 
 Wereonceagainworthkissing? Well — well — well ! 
 Neglect is proven. She shall have deserts : 
 {To a Clerk) But — write, "Defendant keeps his 
 lawful child." 
 
 Young Peasant. My lady ■ 
 
 Wife. Nay, my lady 
 
 Recent. Eh t What's this } 
 
 Wife. The poor hamhino ! Nay, 'twas not the suit ! 
 
 How should Giuseppe, being a fool, a man 
 
 Young Peasant. Aye, aye : that's sense. I love him : 
 
 still, you see 
 
 Regent. An if my judgment suit you not, go home. 
 
 The pair. {As they are going she calls the woman bank.) 
 Costanza ! hath your husband erred 
 44
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 With other woman ? 
 Young Peasant. Never ! 
 
 Wife. I'll not charge him 
 
 With that. 
 Regent. But, yes, you may. This man hath held 
 
 Another woman to his breast. 
 Wife. Her name ? 
 
 That I may tear her eyes ! 
 Resent. Her name's Costanza. 
 
 The same Costanza that, with body washed, 
 
 With ribbon in her hair, light in her eyes. 
 
 Arrayed a cottage to allure his heart. 
 
 Go home, poor fools, and find her ! . . . 
 
 Heigh ! No others ? [^Heaves a sigh. 
 
 Captain, dismiss the Guard. The watch, aloft — 
 
 Set him elsewhere. We would not be o'erlooked. 
 
 You only, Lucio — you, Lucetta — stay ; 
 
 You for a while, Cesario. 
 
 \Exeiint Courtiers, Guard, Cro7vd, etc. 
 
 45
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Heigh ! that's over — 
 The last Court of the Regent; and the books, 
 Accounts of stewardship, my seven years all. 
 Closed here for audit. 
 
 Nay, there's one thing more — 
 Brother, erewhile I spoke you sisterly. 
 You turned away, and still you bite your lip : 
 Signs that may short my preface. It concerns 
 The Countess Fulvia. 
 
 Iaicio. Ha ! 
 
 Regent. Go, bring her. Captain. 
 
 yExit Cesario. 
 List to me, Lucio : listen, brother dear. 
 First playmate — child, tending whose innocence 
 Myself learned motherhood. Shall I deny 
 Youth to be oved and follow after love .'* 
 There is a love breaks like a morning beam 
 On the husht novice kneeling by his arms ; 
 And worse there is, whose kisses strangle love, 
 
 46
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Whose feet take hold of hell. My Lucio, 
 Follow not that ! 
 
 Lucio. Why, who — who hath maligned 
 
 The Countess? 
 
 Regent. Not maligned. Lucetta, here 
 
 Lucio. Lucetta ! Curse Lucetta and her tongue ! 
 Am I a child, to be nagged by waiting-maids ? 
 
 Regent. No, but a man, and shall weigh evidence. 
 
 Lucio. But I'll not hear it ! If her viper tongue 
 
 Can kill, why kill it must. But send me a man, 
 And I will smite his mouth — ay, slit his tongue — 
 That dares defame the Countess ! 
 
 Regent. Stay : she comes. 
 
 [Enter the Countess Fulvia, Cesano attending. 
 Madam, the reason wherefore you are summoned 
 No doubt you guess, from a rude earlier call 
 Our Captain paid you. Certain practices. 
 Which you may force me name, are charged upon 
 you 
 
 47
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 On testimony you may force me call 
 And may with freedom (juestion. 
 Fuloia. I'll not question : 
 
 No, nor I will not answer. 
 Lucio. Then I'll answer! 
 
 For me, for all, she is innocent ! 
 Regent. For you ? 
 
 We'll hope it : but ' for all ' 's more wide an oath 
 Than you can swear, sir. Fll not bandy you 
 Words nor debate. Myself the ladder saw ; 
 Lucetta, here, the ladder and the man. 
 What man she will not say. Cesario 
 Has tracked his footprint on her garden plots. 
 Must we say more.'' 
 Fulvia. No need. Her fingering mind 
 
 Is a close cupboard turning all things rancid. 
 Lucio. Yea, for such wry-necks all the world's a lawn 
 To peek and peer and pounce a sinful worm ; 
 The fatter, the more luscious. 
 
 48
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Regent. Lucio, 
 
 This woman nought gainsays. 
 Fulvia {^fiercely). As why should I ? 
 
 I'll question not, nor answer, 'Neath your brow 
 
 My sentence hunches, crawls, like cat to spring. 
 
 Pah ! there's no prude will match your virtuous 
 wife 
 
 You'd banish me ? 
 Regent. I do. Cesario, 
 
 See to it the City gate shuts not to-night. 
 
 And she this side. 
 Fulvia {laughs recklesslif). To-night ? To-night's your 
 own. 
 
 Most modest woman ! Duchess, there's a well 
 
 By the road, some seven miles beyond the 
 town. 
 
 There, 'neath the stars, I'll dip a hand and drink 
 
 To the good Duke's disport. But have a care ! 
 
 That cup's not yet to lip. 
 
 4 49
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Regent. Captain, remove her. 
 
 Lucio, remain. 
 
 [Exeunt the Countess Fulvia, Cesario following 
 Lucia, I'll not remain — When ice 
 
 Sits judge of fire, what justice shall be done ? 
 Sister, there be your books — peruse them. There 
 The sea-line — bide you so with back to it. 
 While the cold inward heat of cruelty 
 Warms what was once your heart, now crusted o'er 
 With duty and slimed with poisonous drip of 
 
 tongues. 
 God help the Duke, if what he left he'd find ! 
 
 [Exit Lucio. 
 Regent. Is't so, I wonder? Go, Lucetta, fetch 
 My glass, if haply I may tell. 
 
 [Exit Lncctta. 
 Is't so ? 
 And have these years enforced, encrusted me 
 To something monstrous, neither woman nor man ? 
 
 50
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 My lord, my lord ! too heavy was the load 
 You laid ! Yet I'll not blame you : for myself 
 Ruled the straight path, the long account correct 
 As in these books, my ledgers. . . . 
 
 [ While she turns the pages, Gamba the Fool creeps 
 
 in and hoists himself on the balustrade. He 
 
 tries his viol, and sings. 
 
 Song : Gamba. 
 Bird of the South, my Rondinello — 
 
 Regent. Hey ? That Song ! 
 
 Gamba. Hie to me, fly to me, steel-blue mate ! 
 Under my breast-knot flutters thy fellow ; 
 Here can I rest not, and thou so late. 
 Home, to me, home ! 
 ' Love, love, I come ! ' 
 — Dear one, I wait ! 
 Quanno nacesti tu, nacqtii pur io : 
 La lundananza tua, 'I desiderio mio! 
 
 SI
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 You know the song, nindonna ? 
 Regent. Ay, fool. Sit 
 
 Here at my feet, sinj; on. 
 
 Gamha [sings). 
 
 Bird of the South, my Rondinello 
 
 Under thy wing my heart hatli Iain 
 Till the rain falling on last leaves yellow 
 Drumm'd to thee, calling southward again. 
 Home, to me, home ! 
 ' Love, love, I come ! ' 
 Ah, love, the pain ! 
 Addio, addio .' ed iin alba vo/l' addio! 
 La litndananza lua, 7 dcsidciio mio! 
 {Pause). 
 A foolish rustic thing the shepherd wives 
 In our Abruzzi croon by winter fires. 
 Of their husbands in the plains. 
 Regent. Gamba !
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Gamba. Madonna ? 
 
 Regent. I'd make thee my confessor. Mindest thou, 
 By Villalago, where from Sanno's lake 
 The stream, our Tasso, hurls it down the glen ? 
 One noon, with Lucio — ever in those days 
 With Lucio — on a rock within the spray, 
 I wove a ferny garland, while the boy 
 Roamed, but returned in triumph, having 
 
 trapped 
 A bee in a bell-flower — held it to my ear. 
 Laughing, dissembling that he feared to loose 
 The hairy thief. So laughed we — and were 
 
 still. 
 As deep in ^"allescura wound a horn, 
 And up the pathway 'neath the dappling bough 
 Came riding — flecked with sunshine, man and 
 
 horse, — 
 My lord, my lover ; and that song, that song 
 Upon his lips. . . . 
 
 53
 
 IHE REGENT 
 
 yoice of Watchman. Sail ho ! a sail ! a aiil ! 
 
 [^Innnur of populace beloiv. It groics a7ui swells to 
 a roar as enter hurriedly courtiers, guards, and 
 others : Cesario ; Lucetta tvith mirror. 
 
 Liicetta. My lady ! O my lady ! 
 
 Cesario. See, they near ! 
 
 Galley on galley — look, there, by the point ! 
 Regent. O, could my heart keep tally with the surge 
 
 That here comes crowding ! 
 Lucetta. Joyj rny lady! Joy! 
 
 All. Joy ! Joy, my lady ! 
 
 [They press Jiowers on her. A pattse, while they 
 watch. On the canal the galleys come into 
 sight. They near : and as the oars rise and 
 fall, the rowers' chorus is home from the dis- 
 tance. It is the Rondinello song. 
 Chorus in Distance. La lundananza tua, 7 desiderio mio ! 
 Regent. Thanks, my good, good friends ! 
 And deem it not discourteous if alone 
 
 54
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 I'd tune my heart to bliss. 
 
 My glass, Lucetta ! 
 
 [^Takes mirror. 
 
 Some thoughts there are — some thoughts 
 
 Courtiers. God save you, madam ! 
 
 [They go out, leaving the Regent alone. 
 Regent {she loosens the clasp of her robe). Some thoughts 
 * — some thoughts — 
 
 Fall from me, envious robe ! 
 Rest there, my crown — thou more than leaden 
 ache ! 
 
 Ah!— 
 God ! What a mountain drops ! I float — I am lifted 
 Like thistledown on nothing. Back, my crown — 
 Weight me to earth ! Nay, nay, thy rim shall bite 
 No more upon this forehead . . . Where's my 
 
 glass } 
 O mirror, mirror, hath it bit so deep } 
 My love is coming, hark ! O, say not grey, 
 
 55
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Sweet mirror ! Tell, what time to cure it now ? 
 And he so near, so near ! 
 
 How shall I meet him? 
 Why how but as the river leaps to sea, 
 Steel to its magnet, child to mother's arms ? 
 
 [She calclics up jloivers from the baskets lefl by the 
 courtiers, a7id decks herself wildly. 
 Flowers for my hair, flowers at the breast ! Sweet 
 
 flowers, 
 He'll crush you 'gainst his corslet. He has arms 
 Like bands of iron for clasping, has my love. 
 He'll hurt, he'll hurt . . . But oh, sweet flowers, 
 
 to lie 
 And feel you helpless while he grips and bruises 
 Your weak protesting breasts ! You'll die in bliss, 
 Panting your fragrance out. — 
 
 Wh'st ! Hush, poor fool ! 
 I have unlearned love's very aljihabet. 
 Men like us coy, demure . . . Then I'll coquet 
 
 56
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 And play Madam Disdain — but not to-day . 
 To-morrow I'll be shrewish, shy, perverse, 
 Exacting, cold — all April in my moods : 
 We'll walk the forest, and I'll slip from him, 
 Hide me like Dryad 'mid the oaks, and mark 
 His hot dark face pm-suing ; or I'll couch 
 In covert green, and hold my breath to hear 
 His blundering foot go by ; then up I'll leap, 
 And run — and he'll run after. O this lightness ! 
 I'll draw him like a fairy, dance and double — 
 Yet not so fast but he shall overtake 
 At length, and catch me panting. O, I charge you, 
 I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, 
 Wake not my love beneath the forest bough 
 Where we lie dreaming ! 
 
 [Fanfare of trumpets in the distance. 
 Trumpets, hark ! and drums ! 
 They have landed ! From the quay they march ! 
 Flowers ! flowers ! 
 57
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 They are near ... I see liim I . . . Carlo ! lord 
 
 and love ! 
 He looks — waves — O 'tis he ! O foolish heart ! — 
 I had feared he'd ta'en a wound. 
 
 What is't they shout ? 
 Eh? 'Victory !' — yes, yes. He's browner, thinner ; 
 And the dear eyes, how gaunt ! . . . Yes, 
 
 ' Victory ! ' 
 ' Victory ! ' , . . lord, and love 1 , . . 
 
 [The shouts of acclamation are heard now close 
 under the terrace. Spears and banners are 
 seen trooping pa^t. Beside herself, she throws 
 Jlon^ers to them, layghi7ig, weeping the while. 
 Then, running to the Chapel door, she 
 prostrates herself before the image of the 
 Virgin that crotvns its archway. 
 
 O Marv, Mother ! 
 Thou, in whose breast all women's thoughts have 
 moved, 
 
 58
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 I 
 
 All woman's passions heaved. Lo ! I adore 
 Sweet Mother, hold my hands, rejoice with me : 
 My bridegroom cometh ! 
 
 [Durhig this irtvocation the Countess Fiilvia has 
 
 crept in, a stiletto in her hand. She leans 
 
 aver the Regent and stabs her twice in the 
 
 breast. 
 
 Fulvia. Then with that ! — and that ! 
 
 Go meet him ! 
 Regent (turns, looks up, and falls on her j ace). 
 
 Oh ! I am slain ! 
 Fulvia. And I am worse ! 
 
 But there's my flower, my red flower, on your 
 
 breast. — 
 Go, meet your lord and show it ! 
 
 [She passes down the steps as Lucetta runs in. 
 Lucetta. Madam ! Madam ! 
 
 The Duke is at the gate — Madam ! — 
 Christ ! she is murdered ! Murder ! Murder ! 
 
 59
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Regent. Fie, 
 
 Lucetta ! peace ! What word to greet the Duke 
 For his home-coming ! Lift me . . . Quick, my 
 
 robe — 
 My Crown ! Call no one. O, but hasten ! 
 Lucetta (helpless, turinging her hands). Madam ! 
 Regent. I need your strength, and must I steady 
 you? 
 Lucetta, years ago you disarrayed me 
 Upon my bridal night. I would you'd whisper 
 The rogueries your tongue invented then. 
 I have few moments, girl ... I'd have them 
 
 wanton. 
 Make jest this mantle hides the maid I was. 
 I'll have no priest, no doctor — Fetch Tonino ! 
 
 I must present his son 
 
 [Lncetta runs out. 
 All's acted quick : 
 Bride-bed, conception, birth — and death ! But he 
 
 60
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Shall sum it in one moment death not takes . . . 
 What noise of trumpets ! ... Is the wound not 
 covered .'' 
 l^Ske wraps herself carefully in her mantle as the 
 courtiers pour in. The child Tonino rwis to 
 her and stands by her side. Lucio, Cesario, 
 all the Court, group themselves lound her as 
 the Duke enters. He rushes in eagerly ; but 
 she sets her teeth on her anguish, and receives 
 him with a low reverence. 
 Welcome my lord ! 
 Duke. Ottilia ! 
 
 Regent. Good my lord, 
 
 Welcome ! This day is bright restores you to 
 Your loyal Duchy. 
 Duke {impatient). Wife ! Ottilia ! 
 
 Regent (she lifts a hand to keep him at distance). 
 
 There must be forms, my lord — some forms ! Cesario, 
 Render the Duke his sceptre. As bar to socket, 
 
 6i
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 When the gate closes on a town secure, 
 
 So locks this rod back to his manly clutch — 
 
 Cry all, ' Long live the Duke ! ' 
 All. Long live the Duke ! 
 
 Duke. Wife, make an end with forms ! 
 Lucio (to Cesario). And so say I ! 
 
 A man would think my sister had no blood 
 
 In her body. 
 Cesario (7vatckmg the Regent). Peace, man : something 
 
 there's amiss. 
 Regent. Yet here is he that sceptre shall inherit. 
 
 Lucetta, lead his first-born to the Duke. 
 
 His first-born ! — Nay but look on him how 
 straight 
 
 Of limb, how set and shoulder-square, the* 
 slender ! 
 
 He'll sit a horse, in time, and toss a lance 
 
 Even with his father. 
 Duke. There's my blessing, boy ! 
 
 62
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 But stand aside. Look in my face, Ottilia — 
 Hearken me, all ! One thing these seven years 
 My life hath lacked, which wanting, all your 
 
 cannon, 
 Your banners, vivas, bells that rock the roofs, 
 Throng'd windows, craning faces — all — all — all 
 Were phantasms, were noise. — 
 
 Liicio {exclaims). Why look, here's blood ! 
 
 Here, on the boy's hand ! 
 
 Regent. Ay ! a scratch, no worse. 
 
 Here, when I pinned my robe. 
 
 Duke {continuing). Nay, friends, this moment 
 
 My Duchy her dear hand restores to me 
 To me's a dream. More buoyant would I tread 
 Dumb street, deserted square, climb ruin'd 
 
 wall, 
 Where in a heap beneath a broken flag 
 Lay Adria. — 
 
 So that amid the ruins stood my love 
 
 63
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 And stretched her hands so faintly — stretched her 
 hands 
 
 So faintly. See ! She's mine ! She lifts them 
 
 llegcnt (jotlcrs and falls into his arms with a tired, happy 
 laugh, which cuds in a cri/ as his arms enfold 
 her). Ah! 
 
 [She faints. 
 Duke, [after a moment, releasing her a little). What's 
 
 here? Ottilia! 
 Lucetla. My mistress swoons ! 
 
 A Courtier. 'Tis happiness 
 
 Duke. Fetch water ! 
 
 Lucin. Nay this blood — 
 
 Came of no scratch ! 
 
 Lucetta. Loosen her bodice 
 
 Duke. Blood ? 
 
 Why blood ? Where's blood ? 
 (Stares as the mantle is unclasped and falls njjen). 
 
 Ah, my God ! 
 64
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Lucetta. Murder ! murder ! 
 
 The Countess Fulvia — 
 Cesario. Speak ! 
 
 Lucetta. There — while she knelt — 
 
 Stabbed her, and fled. 
 Cesario. Which way ? 
 
 \L,ucetta points to the stairs. He dashes off in 
 pursuit. 
 Duke. All-seeing God ! 
 
 Where were thine eyes, or else thy justice? Dead ? 
 
 O, never dead ! 
 Lucio. Ay, Duke, push God aside. 
 
 As I push thee. I have the better right : 
 
 I killed her — I. O never pass, sweet soul. 
 
 Till thou hast drunk a shudder of this wretch. 
 
 Thy brother, playmate, murderer ! 
 Duke. Wine ! bring wine — 
 
 Regent, (as the wine is brought and revives her). 
 
 Flower, he will crush thee — but the bliss, the bliss ! 
 
 5 65
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 I swim in bliss. Wliat . . . Lucio ? Where's my 
 
 lord? 
 Dear, bring him : he was here awhile and held 
 
 me. 
 Say he must hold, or the light air will lift 
 And bear me quite away. 
 
 [Re-enler Cesano. In one hand he carries his 
 sword, hi the other a dagger. 
 Lucio. Cesario ! 
 
 What ! Is that devil escaped ? To think — to think 
 I drank her kisses ! — What ? Where is she ? 
 Cesario. Dead. 
 
 I raised the cry : the people pointed after ; 
 Ran with me, ravening. Just this side the 
 
 bridge 
 She heard our howl and turned — drew back the 
 
 dagger 
 Red with our lady's blood, then drove it home 
 Clean to her own black heart. 
 
 66
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Regent. God pardon her ! 
 
 I would what blood of mine clung to the blade 
 Might mix with hers and sweeten it for mercy. 
 Lucio. Will you forgive her ? Then forgive not me ! 
 Regent. Dear Lucio ! — You'll not pluck away your 
 hand 
 This time ? Hush ! Where's Cesario ? . . . Friend, 
 
 farewell. 
 Where lies the body ? 
 Cesario. Sooth, madonna, I flung it 
 
 To the river's will, to roll it down to sea 
 Or cast on muddy bar, for dogs to gnaw. 
 Regent. The river ? Ah ! How strong the river 
 rolls ! 
 Hold me, my lord — 
 Duke. Love, love, I hold you 
 
 Regent. — Ay ! 
 
 The child, too — You will hold the child ? . . . 
 
 This roar 
 67
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 Deafens but will not drown us. 
 
 [Within the Chapel the choir is chanting a dirge. 
 Gaviba goes and closes the door on the sotind : 
 then creeps to the foot of the coitch. The 
 di/ing n'onian gently motions aside the cross 
 a priest is holding to her, and looks up at her 
 husband. 
 \Belo7v the terrace a voice is heard singing the 
 Rondinello song. 
 
 Look ! beyond 
 Be waters where no galley moves with oar, 
 So wide, so waveless, — and, between the woods, 
 Meadows — O land me there ! . . . Hark, my 
 
 lord's voice 
 Singing in Vallescura ! Soft my, love, 
 I am so tired — so tired ! Love, let me play ! 
 
 [Dies. 
 [The Courtiers lift the body in silence a?id bear it 
 to the Chapel, the Duke and his train following. 
 68
 
 THE REGENT 
 
 The doors close on them. On the stage are 
 left only Cesario, standing by the balustrade; 
 and Gamba, who has seated himself with his 
 viol and touches it, as still the voice sings 
 below — 
 
 Addio, Addio ! ed un'altra volt'addio! 
 
 La lundananza tua, '1 desiderio mio ! 
 [On the last note a string of the viol cracks, and with 
 a cry the Fool Jiings himself, heart-broken, on 
 the empty couch. Cesario steps forward and 
 stands over him, touching his shoulder gently. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 69
 
 POEMS
 
 EXMOOR VERSES 
 I. Vashti's Song 
 
 Over the rim of the Moor, 
 And under the starry sky, 
 
 Two men came to my door 
 And rested them thereby. 
 
 Beneath the bough and the star, 
 In a whispering foreign tongue, 
 
 They talked of a land afar 
 
 And the merry days so young ! 
 
 Beneath the dawn and the bough 
 I heard them arise and go : 
 
 And my heart it is aching now 
 For the more it will never know. 
 
 73
 
 EXMOOR VERSES 
 
 Why did they two depart 
 Before I could understand ? 
 
 WTiere lies that land, O my heart ? 
 — O my heart, where lies that land ? 
 
 II. Saturn 
 
 From my farm, from her farm 
 
 Furtively we came. 
 In either home a hearth was warm 
 
 We nursed a hungrier flame. 
 
 Our feet were foul with mire. 
 Our faces blind with mist ; 
 
 But all the night was naked fire 
 About us where we kiss'd. 
 
 74
 
 EXMOOR VERSES 
 
 To her farm, to m^ farm, 
 Loathing Ave returned ; 
 
 Pale beneath a gallow's arm 
 The planet Saturn burned. 
 
 III. Dereliction 
 
 O'er the tears that we shed, dear 
 
 The bitter vines twist, 
 And the hawk and the red deer 
 
 They keep where we kiss'd : 
 All broken lies the shieling 
 
 That sheltered from rain, 
 With a star to pierce the ceiUng, 
 
 And the dawn an empty pane. 
 
 75
 
 EXMOOR VERSES 
 
 Thro' the mist, up the moorway, 
 
 Fade hunters and pack ; 
 From the ridge to thy doorway 
 
 Happy voices float back . . . 
 O, between the threads o' mist, love, 
 
 Reach your hands from the house . 
 Only mind that we kiss'd, love. 
 
 And forget the broken vows ! 
 
 76
 
 TWO FOLK SONGS 
 
 TWO FOLK SONGS 
 L The Soldier 
 (^Roumanian) 
 When winter ti-ees bestrew the path, 
 
 Still to the twig a leaf or twain 
 Will cling and weep, not Winter s wrath, 
 But that foreknown forlomer pain — 
 To fall when green leaves come again. 
 
 I watch'd him sleep by the furrow — 
 The first that fell in the fight. 
 
 His grave they would dig to-morrow : 
 The battle called them to-night. 
 
 They bore him aside to the trees, there. 
 By his undigg'd grave content 
 
 To lie on his back at ease there, 
 And hark how the battle went. 
 
 77
 
 TWO FOLK SONGS 
 
 The battle went by the villagre, 
 
 And back through the night were borne 
 Far cries of murder and pillage, 
 
 With smoke from the standing corn. 
 
 But when they came on the morrow, 
 They talk'd not over their task. 
 
 As he listen'd there by the furrow ; 
 For the dead mouth could not ask — 
 
 How went the battle, my brothers ? 
 
 But that he will never know : 
 For his mouth the red earth smothers 
 
 As they shoulder their spades and go. 
 
 Yet he cannot sleep thereunder, 
 
 But ever nmst toss and turn, 
 Ho7v went the battle, I wonder ? 
 
 — And that he will never learn ! 
 78
 
 TWO FOLK SONGS 
 
 When winter trees bestrew the path, 
 Still to the twig a leaf or twain 
 
 Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath, 
 But that foreknown, Jorlorner pain — 
 To fall when green leaves come again ! 
 
 II. The Marine 
 (Poiteviri) 
 
 The bold Marine comes back from war. 
 
 So kind : 
 The bold Marine comes back from war, 
 
 So kind : 
 With a raggety coat and a worn-out shoe. 
 " Now, poor Marine, say, whence come you, 
 
 All so kind } " 
 
 79
 
 TWO FOLK SONGS 
 
 1 travel back from the war, madame, 
 
 So kind : 
 I travel back from the war, madame, 
 
 So kind : 
 For a glass of wine and a bowl of whey, 
 'Tis I will sing you a ballad gay, 
 
 All so kind. 
 
 The bold Marine he sips his whey, 
 
 So kind : 
 He sips and he sings his ballad gay. 
 
 So kind : 
 But the dame she turns toward the wall, 
 To wipe her tears that fall and fall. 
 
 All so kind. 
 
 What aileth you at my song, madame. 
 
 So kind ? 
 I hope that I sing no wrong, madame, 
 
 So kind ? 
 
 80
 
 TWO FOLK SONGS 
 
 Or grieves it you a beggar should dine 
 On a bowl of whey and the good white wine, 
 All so kind ? 
 
 " It ails me not at your ballad gay, 
 
 So kind : 
 It ails me not for the wine and whey. 
 
 So kind : 
 But it ails me sore for the voice and eyes 
 Of a good man long in Paradise. — 
 
 Ahj so kind ! " 
 
 You have fair children five, madame, 
 
 So kind : 
 You have fair children five, madame, 
 
 So kind : 
 Your good man left you children three ; 
 Whence came these twain for company, 
 
 All so kind ? 
 6 8i
 
 TWO FOLK SONGS 
 
 " A letter came from the war, Marine, 
 
 So kind : 
 A letter came from the war, Marine, 
 
 So kind : 
 A while I wept for the good man dead, 
 But another good man in a while I wed, 
 
 All so kind." 
 
 The bold Marine he drained his glass. 
 
 So kind : 
 The bold Marine he drained his glass, 
 
 So kind. 
 He said not a word, though the tears they flowed. 
 But back to his regiment took the road, 
 
 All so kind. 
 
 82
 
 MARY LESLIE 
 
 MARY LESLIE 
 
 Before Vittoria, June 20, 1813 
 
 O Mary Leslie, blithe and shrill 
 
 The bugles blew for Spain : 
 And you below the Castle Hill 
 
 Stood in the crowd your lane. 
 Then hearts were wild to watch us pass, 
 
 Yet laith to let us go ! 
 While mine said, " Fare-ye-well, my lass ! " 
 
 And yours, "God keep my Jo !" 
 
 Here by the bivouac fire, above 
 
 These fields of savage play, 
 I'll lift my love to meet thy love 
 
 Twa thousand miles away, 
 
 83
 
 MARY LESLIE 
 
 Where yonder, yonder by the stars, 
 Nightlong there rins a burn. 
 
 And maids witli lovers at the wars 
 May list their wraiths' return. 
 
 More careless yet my spirit grows 
 
 Of fame, more sick of blood : 
 But I can think of Badajoz, 
 
 And yet that God is good. 
 Beyond the siege, beyond the stour, 
 
 Beyond the sack of towns, 
 I reach to pluck ae lily-floo'r 
 
 Where leaders press for crowns. 
 
 O Mary ! lily ! bow'd and wet 
 With mair than niornin's rain ! 
 
 The bugles up the Lawnmarket 
 Shall sound us home again. 
 
 84
 
 MARY LESLIE 
 
 Then fare-ye-well, these foreign lands, 
 And be damn'd their bitter drouth, 
 
 With your dear face between my hands 
 And the cup held to my mouth. 
 
 My love. 
 It's clean cup to my mouth ! 
 
 SS
 
 JENIFER'S LOVE 
 
 JENIFER'S LOVE 
 
 Small is my secret — let it pass — 
 
 Small in your life the share I had, 
 Who sat beside you in the class, 
 Awed by the bright superior lad : 
 Whom yet with hot and eager face 
 I prompted when he missed his place. 
 
 For you the call came swift and soon : 
 
 But sometimes in your holidays 
 You meet me trudging home at noon 
 To dinner through the dusty ways. 
 And recognized, and with a nod 
 Passed on, but never guessed — thank God ! 
 
 Truly our ways were separate. 
 I bent myself to hoe and drill, 
 86
 
 JENIFER'S LOVE 
 
 Yea, with an honest man to mate, 
 Fulfilling God Almighty's will ; 
 
 And bore him children. But my prayers 
 Were yours — and, only after, theirs. 
 
 While you — still loftier, more remote, 
 
 You sprang from stair to stair of fame. 
 And you've a riband on your coat. 
 And you've a title to your name ; 
 But have you yet a star to shine 
 Above your bed, as I o'er mine ? 
 
 87
 
 TWO DUETS 
 
 TWO DUETS 
 
 From " Ariofi," an unpublished Masque 
 
 I 
 
 He. Aglai-a ! Aglai-a ! 
 
 Sweet, awaken and be glad. 
 She. Who is this that calls Aglaia ? 
 Is it thou, my dearest lad ? 
 He. 'Tis Arion, 'tis Arion, 
 
 Who calls thee from sleep — 
 From slumber who bids thee 
 To follow and number 
 His kids and his sheep. 
 She. Nay, leave to entreat me ! 
 If motlier should spy on 
 Us twain, she would beat me. 
 88
 
 TWO DUETS 
 
 He. Then come, my love, come ! 
 And hide with Arion 
 
 Where green woods are dumb ! 
 
 She. Ar-i-on ! Ar-i-on ! 
 
 Closer, list ! I am afraid ! 
 He. Whisper, then, thy love Arion, 
 From thy window, lily maid. 
 She. Yet Aglaia, yet Aglaia 
 
 Hath heard them debate 
 Of wooing repenting — 
 " Who trust to undoing. 
 Lament them too late." 
 He. Nay, nay, when I woo thee. 
 Thy mother might spy on 
 All harm I shall do thee. 
 She. I come, then — I come ! 
 To follow Arion 
 
 Where green woods be dumb. 
 89
 
 TWO DUETS 
 
 Song 
 
 Sparrow of Love, so sharp to peck, 
 Arrow of Love — I bare my neck 
 Down to the bosom. See, no fleck 
 
 Of blood ! I have never a wound ; 1 go 
 Forth to the greenwood. Yet, heigh-ho ! 
 What 'neath my girdle flutters so ? 
 
 'Tis not a bird, and yet hath wings, 
 'Tis not an arrow, yet it stings ; 
 While in the wound it nests and sings — 
 
 Heigh-ho ! 
 
 He. Of Arion, of Arion 
 
 That wound thou shalt learn ; 
 What nothings 'tis made of, 
 And soft pretty soothings 
 In shade of the fern. 
 90
 
 TWO DUETS 
 
 She. When maids have a mind to, 
 Man's word they rely on. 
 Old warning are blind to — 
 I come, then — I come 
 To walk with Arion 
 Where green woods are dumb ! 
 
 II 
 
 He. Dear my love, and O my love, 
 
 And O my love so lately ! 
 Did we wander yonder grove 
 
 And sit awhile sedately ? 
 For either you did there conclude 
 
 To do at length as I did. 
 Or passion's fashion's turn'd a prude, 
 
 And troth's an oath derided. 
 
 91
 
 TWO DUETS 
 
 She. Yea, my love — and nay, my love — 
 
 And ask me not to tell, love. 
 While I delay'd an idle day 
 
 W^hat 'twixt us there befell, love. 
 Yet either I did sit beside 
 
 And do at length as you did, 
 Or my delight is lightly by 
 
 An idle lie deluded ! 
 
 92
 
 THE STATUES AND THE TEAR 
 
 THE STATUES AND THE TEAR 
 
 All night a fountain pleads, 
 Telling her beads, 
 Her tinkling beads monotonous 'neath the moon ; 
 And where she springs atween, 
 Two statues lean — 
 Two Kings, their marble beards with moonlight 
 strewn. 
 
 Till hate had frozen speech, 
 Each hated each. 
 Hated and died, and went unto his place : 
 And still inveterate 
 
 They lean and hate 
 With glare of stone implacable, face to face. 
 
 93
 
 THE STATUES AND THE TEAR 
 
 One, who bade set them here 
 In stone austere, 
 To both was dear, and did not guess at all : 
 Yet with her new-wed lord 
 Walking the sward 
 Paused, and for two dead friends a tear let fall. 
 
 She turn'd and went her way. 
 Yet in the spray 
 The shining tear attempts, but cannot lie. 
 Night-long the fountain drips. 
 But even slips 
 Untold that one bead of her rosary : 
 While they, who know it would 
 Lie if it could. 
 Lean on and hate, watching it, eye to eye. 
 
 94
 
 NUPTIAL NIGHT 
 
 NUPTIAL NIGHT 
 
 Hush ! and again the chatter of the starling 
 
 Athwart the lawn ! 
 Lean your head close and closer. O my darling !- 
 
 It is the dawn. 
 Dawn in the dusk of her dream. 
 
 Dream in the hush of her bosom, unclose ! 
 Bathed in the eye-bright beam, 
 
 Blush to her cheek, be a blossom, a rose ! 
 
 Go, nuptial night ! the floor of Ocean tressing 
 
 With moon and star ; 
 With benediction go and breathe thy blessing 
 
 On coasts afar. 
 
 95
 
 NUPTIAL NIGHT 
 
 Hark ! the theorbos thrum 
 
 O'er the arch'd wave that in white smother booms. 
 " Mother of Mystery, come ! 
 
 Fain for thee wait other brides, other grooms ! " 
 
 Go, nuptial night, my breast of hers bereaving ! 
 
 Yet, O, tread soft ! 
 Grow day, blithe day, the mountain shoulder heaving 
 
 More gold aloft ! 
 Gold, rose, bird of the dawn. 
 
 All to her balcony gather unseen — 
 Thrill through the curtain drawn, 
 
 Bless her, bedeck her, and bathe her, my Queen ! 
 
 96
 
 HESPERUS 
 
 HESPERUS 
 
 Down in the street the last late hansoms go 
 Still westward, but with backward eyes of red 
 The harlot shuffles to her lonely bed ; 
 
 The tall policeman pauses but to throw 
 
 A flash into the empty portico ; 
 
 Then he too passes, and his lonely tread 
 Links all the long-drawn gas-lights on a thread 
 
 And ties them to one planet swinging low. 
 
 O Hesperus ! O happy star ! to bend 
 
 O'er Helen's bosom in the tranced west — 
 To watch the hours heave by upon her breast 
 
 And at her parted lip for dreams attend : 
 
 If dawn defraud thee, how shall I be deem'd. 
 Who house within that bosom, and am dreamed 
 
 97
 
 CHANT ROYAL OF HIGH VIRTUE 
 
 CHANT ROYAL OF HIGH VIRTUE 
 
 Who lives in suit of armour pent 
 And hides himself behind a wall, 
 
 For him is not the great event, 
 The garland nor the Capitol. 
 
 And is God's guerdon less than they ? 
 
 Nay, moral man, I tell thee Nay : 
 
 Nor shall the flaming forts be won 
 
 By sneaking negatives alone, 
 By Lenten fast or Raniazan ; 
 
 But by the challenge proudly thrown — 
 Virtue is that becrowns a Man ! 
 
 God, in His Palace resident 
 
 Of Bliss, beheld our sinful ball, 
 
 And charged His own Son innocent 
 
 Us to redeem from Adam's fall. 
 
 98
 
 CHANT ROYAL OF HIGH VIRTUE 
 
 "Yet must it be that men Thee slay." 
 "Yea, tho' it must, must I obey," 
 Said Christ ; and came. His royal Son, 
 To die, and dying to atone 
 
 For harlot, thief, and publican. 
 Read on that rood He died upon — 
 
 Virtue is that becromns a Man ! 
 
 Beneath that rood where He was bent 
 
 I saw the world's great captains all 
 Pass riding home from tournament 
 
 Adown the road from Roncesvalles — 
 Lord Charlemagne, in one array 
 Lords Caesar, Cyrus, Attila, 
 Lord Alisaundre of Macedon . . . 
 With flame on lance and habergeon 
 
 They passed, and to the rataplan 
 Of drums gave salutation — 
 
 " Virtue is that becronms a Man ! " 
 
 99
 
 CHANT ROYAL OF HIGH VIRTUE 
 
 Had tall Achilles lounged in tent 
 
 For aye, and Xanthus neigh'd in stall, 
 The towers of Trov had ne'er been shent. 
 
 Nor stay'd the dance in Priam's hall. 
 Bend o'er thy book till thou be grey, 
 Read, mark, perpend, digest, survey, 
 Instruct thee deep as Solomon, 
 One only chapter thou canst con, 
 
 One lesson learn, one sentence scan. 
 One title and one colophon — 
 
 Virtue is that becratv?is a Man ! 
 
 High V'irtue's best is eloquent 
 
 With S{)ur and not with martingall : 
 
 Swear not to her thou'rt continent : 
 Be courteous, brave, and liberal. 
 
 God fashion'd thee of chosen clay 
 
 For service, nor did ever say, 
 
 " Deny thee this," " Abstain from yon," 
 
 ICO
 
 CHANT ROYAL OF HIGH VIRTUE 
 
 But to inure thee, thew and bone. 
 
 To be confirmed of the clan 
 That made immortal Marathon — 
 Virtue is that becrorvns a Man ! 
 
 Envoy 
 
 Young Knight, the lists are set to-day ! 
 Hereafter shall be time to pray 
 In sepulture, with hands of stone. 
 Ride, then ! outride the bugle blown ! 
 
 And gaily dinging down the van. 
 Charge with a cheer — " Set on ! Set on ! 
 
 Virtue is that hecrowns a Man ! " 
 
 lOI
 
 CORONATION HYMN 
 
 CORONATION HYMN 
 
 Tune — Luther's Chorale 
 " Kin' feste hurg ist unser Gott" 
 
 I 
 
 Of old our City hath renown, 
 Of God are her foundations, 
 Wherein this day a King we crown 
 Elate among the nations. 
 
 Acknowledge, then, thou King — 
 And you, ye people, sing — 
 What deeds His arm hath wrought 
 Yea, let their tale be taught 
 To endless generations. 
 
 II 
 
 So long, so far, Jehovah guides 
 
 His people's path attending, 
 
 I02
 
 CORONATION HYMN 
 
 By pastures green and water-sides 
 Toward His hill ascending ; 
 
 Whence they beneath the stars 
 Shall view their ancient wars, 
 Their perils, far removed. 
 O might of mercy proved ! 
 O love past comprehending ! 
 
 Ill 
 
 He was that God, for man which spake 
 
 From Sinai forth in thunder ; 
 He was that Love, for man which brake 
 The dreadful grave asunder. 
 Lord over every lord, 
 His consecrating word 
 An earthly prince awaits ; 
 Lift then your heads, ye gates ! 
 Your King comes riding under. 
 103
 
 CORONATlOxX HYMN 
 
 IV 
 
 Be ye lift up, ye deathless doors ; 
 
 Let wave your banners o'er Him ! 
 Exult, ye streets ; be strewn, ye floors. 
 With palm, with bay, before Him 1 
 With transport fetch Him in, 
 Ye ransom'd folk from sin — 
 Your Lord, return'd to bless ! 
 O kneeling king, confess — 
 O subject men, adore Him ! 
 
 104
 
 THREE MEN OF TRURO 
 
 THREE MEN OF TRURO 
 
 I 
 E. W. B. 
 
 Archbishop of Canterhury : sometime the First Bishop 
 of Truro. October 1 896 
 
 The Church's outpost on a neck of land — 
 
 By ebb of faith the foremost left the last — 
 Dull, starved of hope, we watched the driven sand 
 Blown through the hour-glass, covering our past. 
 Counting no hours to our relief — no hail 
 Across the hills, and on the sea no sail ! 
 
 Sick of monotonous days we lost account. 
 In fitful dreams remembering days of old 
 
 105
 
 THREE MEN OF TRURO 
 
 And nights — th' erect Archangel on the Mount 
 
 With sword that drank the dawn ; the Vase of Gold 
 The moving Grail athwart the starry fields 
 Where all the heavenly spearmen clashed their 
 shields. 
 
 In dereliction by the deafening shore 
 
 We sought no more aloft, but sunk our eyes, 
 Probing the sea for food, the earth for ore. 
 Ah, yet had one good soldier of the skies 
 
 Burst through the wrack reporting news of them, 
 How had we run and kissed his gamient's hem ! 
 
 Nay, but he came ! Nay, but he stood and cried, 
 
 Panting with joy and the fierce fervent race, 
 " Arm, arm ! for Christ returns ! " — and all our pride, 
 Our ancient pride, answered that eager face : 
 
 " Repair His battlements ! — Your Christ is near ! " 
 And, half in dream, we raised the soldiers' cheer. 
 
 io6
 
 THREE MEN OF TRURO 
 
 Far, as we flung that challenge, fled the ghosts — 
 Back, as we built, the obscene foe withdrew — 
 High to the song of hammers sang the hosts 
 Of Heaven — and lo ! the daystar, and a new 
 Dawn with its chalice and its wind as wine ; 
 And youth was hope, and life once more divine ! 
 
 Day, and hot noon, and now the evening glow, 
 
 And 'neath our scaffolding the city spread 
 Twilit, with rain-wash'd roofs, and — hark ! — below. 
 One late bell tolling. " Dead ? Our Captain dead ? " 
 Nay, here with us he fronts the westering sun 
 With shaded eyes and counts the wide fields won. 
 
 Aloft with us ! And while another stone 
 
 Swings to its socket, haste with trowel and hod ! 
 Win the old smile a moment ere, alone. 
 Soars the great soul to bear report to God. 
 
 Night falls ; but thou, dear Captain, from thy star 
 Look down, behold how bravely goes the v.-ar ! 
 
 107
 
 THREE MEN OF TRURO 
 
 II 
 A. B. D. 
 
 Canon Residentiary and Precentor of Truro 
 December 1903 
 
 Many had builded, and, the building done, 
 Through our adorned gates with din 
 
 Came Prince and Priest, with pipe and clarion 
 Leading the right God in. 
 
 Yet, had the perfect temple quickened then 
 And whispered us between our song, 
 
 " Give God the praise. To whom of living men 
 Shall next our thanks belons ? " 
 
 o 
 
 Then had the few, the very few, that wist 
 
 His Atlantean labour, swerved 
 Their eyes to seek, and in the triumph missed. 
 
 The man that most deserved. 
 1 08
 
 THREE MEN OF TRURO 
 
 He only of us was incorporate 
 
 In all that fabric ; stone by stone 
 Had built his life in her, had made his fate 
 
 And her perfection one ; 
 
 Given all he had ; and now — when all was given- 
 Far spentj within a private shade, 
 
 Heard the loud organ pealing praise to Heaven, 
 And learned why man is made. — 
 
 To break his strength, yet always to be brave ; 
 
 To preach, and act, the Crucified . . . 
 Sweep by, O Prince and Prelate, up the nave. 
 
 And fill it with your pride ! 
 
 Better than ye what made th' old temples great. 
 
 Because he loved, he understood ; 
 Indignant that his darling, less in state. 
 
 Should lack a martyr's blood. 
 109
 
 THREE MEN OF TRURO 
 
 She hath it now. O mason, strip away 
 
 Her scaffolding, the flower disclose ! 
 Lay by the tools with his o'er-wearied clay — 
 But She shall bloom unto its Judgment Day, 
 His ever-living Rose ! 
 
 Ill 
 
 c. w. s. 
 
 The Fourth Bishop of Truro 
 May 1912 
 
 Prince of courtesy defeated. 
 Heir of hope untimely cheated, 
 Throned awhile he sat, and, seated, 
 
 Saw his Cornish round him gather ; 
 " Teach us how to live, good Father ! " 
 How to die he taught us rather : 
 1 10
 
 THREE MEN OF TRURO 
 
 Heard the startling trumpet sound him. 
 
 Smiled upon the feast around him, 
 
 Rose, and wrapp'd his coat, and bound him 
 
 When beyond the awful surges, 
 Bathed in dawn on Syrian verges, 
 God ! thy star, thy Cross emerges. 
 
 And so sing we all to it — 
 
 Crux, in ccelo lux superna. 
 Sis in carnis hac taberna 
 Mihi pedibus lucerna : 
 
 Quo vexillum dux cohortis 
 Sistet, super flumen Mortis, 
 Te, flammantibus in portis ! 
 
 Ill
 
 ALMA MATER 
 
 ALMA MATER 
 
 Know you her secret none can utter ? 
 
 Hers of the Book, the tripled Crown ? 
 Still on the spire the pigeons flutter. 
 
 Still by the gateway flits the gown ; 
 Still on the street, from corbel and gutter, 
 
 Faces of stone look down. 
 
 Faces of stone, and stonier faces — 
 Some from library windows wan 
 
 Forth on her gardens, her green spaces, 
 Peer and turn to their books anon. 
 
 Hence, my Muse, from the green oases 
 Gather the tent, begone ! 
 
 112
 
 ALMA MATER 
 
 Nay, should she by the pavement linger 
 Under the rooms where once she played. 
 
 Who from the feast would rise to fling her 
 One poor sou for her serenade ? 
 
 One short laugh for the antic finger 
 Thrumming a lute-string frayed ? 
 
 Once, my deai- — but the world was young then — 
 Magdalen elms and Trinity limes — 
 
 Lissom the blades and the backs that swung then. 
 Eight good men in the good old times — 
 
 Careless we, and the chorus flung then 
 Under St Mary's chimes ! 
 
 Reins lay loose and the ways led random — 
 Christ Church meadow aud Iffley track, 
 
 " Idleness horrid and dog-cart" (tandem), 
 Aylesbury grind and Bicester pack — 
 
 Pleasant our lines, and faith ! we scanned 'em : 
 Having that artless knack. 
 
 8 113
 
 ALMA MATER 
 
 Come, old limmer, the times grow colder ; 
 
 Leaves of the creeper redden and fall. 
 Was it a hand then clapped my shoulder ? — 
 
 Only the wind by the chapel wall ! 
 Dead leaves drift on the lute . . . So, fold her 
 
 Under the faded shawl. 
 
 Never we wince, though none deplore us, 
 We who go reaping that we sowed ; 
 
 Cities at cock-crow wake before us — 
 Hey, for the lilt of the London road ! 
 
 One look back, and a rousing chorus ! 
 Never a palinode ! 
 
 Still on her spire the pigeons hover ; 
 
 Still by her gateway haunts the gown. 
 Ah ! but her secret ? You, young lover. 
 
 Drumming her old ones forth from town, 
 Know you the secret none discover } 
 
 Tell it — when you go down. 
 
 114
 
 ALMA MATER 
 
 Yet if at length you seek her, prove her, 
 Lean to her whispers never so nigh ; 
 
 Yet if at last not less her lover 
 
 You in your hansom leave the High ; 
 
 Down from her towers a ray shall hover — 
 Touch you, a passer-by ! 
 
 IT5
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE 
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE 
 
 Friend, old friend in the Manse by the fireside sitting, 
 Hour by hour while the grey ash drips from the 
 
 You with a book on your knee^ your wife with her 
 knitting. 
 Silent both, and between you, silent, the dog. 
 
 Silent here in the south sit I ; and, leaning, 
 
 One sits watching the fire, with chin upon hand ; 
 
 Gazes deej) in its heart — but ah ! its meaning 
 Rather I read in the shadows and understand. 
 
 Dear, kind she is ; and daily dearer, kinder. 
 
 Love shuts the door on the lamp and our two selves : 
 
 ii6
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE 
 
 Not my stirring awakened the flame that behind her 
 Lit up a face in the leathern dusk of the shelves. 
 
 Veterans are ray books, with tarnished gilding : 
 Yet there is one gives back to the winter grate 
 
 Gold of a sunset flooding a college building. 
 Gold of an hour I waited — as now I wait — 
 
 For a light step on the stair, a girl's low laughter, 
 Rustle of silk, shy knuckles tapping the oak. 
 
 Dinner and mirth upsetting my rooms and, after, 
 Music, waltz upon waltz, till the June day broke. 
 
 Where is her laughter now ? Old tarnished covers — 
 You that reflect her with fresh young face un- 
 changed — 
 Tell that we met, that we parted, not as lovers ; 
 
 Time, chance, brought us together, and these 
 estranged. 
 
 117
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE 
 
 Loyal were we to the mood of the moment granted, 
 Bruised not its bloom, but danced on the wave of 
 its joy : 
 Passion — wisdom — fell back like a fence enchanted, 
 Ringing a floor for us both — whole Heaven for the 
 boy! 
 
 Where is she now ? Regretted not, though departed, 
 
 Blessings attend and follow her all her days ! 
 — Look to your hound : he dreams of the hares he 
 started, 
 Whines, and awakes, and stretches his limbs to the 
 blaze. 
 
 Far old friend in the Manse, by the green ash peeling 
 Flake by flake from the heat in the Yule log's 
 core. 
 Look past the woman you love. On wall and ceiling 
 Climbs not a trellis of roses — and ghosts— of yore .'' 
 
 ii8
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE 
 
 Thoughts, thoughts ! Whistle them back like hounds 
 returning — 
 Mark how her needles pause at a sound upstairs. 
 Time for bed, and to leave the log's heart burning ! 
 Give ye good-night, but first thank God in your 
 prayers ! 
 
 rj9
 
 THE ROOT 
 
 THE ROOT 
 
 Deep, Love, yea, very deep, 
 
 And in the dark exiled, 
 I have no sense of light but still to creep 
 And know the breast, but not the eyes. Thy child 
 Saw ne'er his mother near, nor if she smiled ; 
 
 But only feels her weep. 
 
 Yet clouds and branches green 
 There be aloft, somewhere, 
 And winds, and angel birds that build between, 
 As I believe — and I will not despair ; 
 For faith is evidence of things not seen. 
 Love ! if I could be there ! 
 1 20
 
 THE ROOT 
 
 I will be patient, dear. 
 
 Perchance some part of me 
 Puts forth aloft and feels the rushing year 
 And shades the bird, and is that happy tree 
 Then were it strength to serve and not appear, 
 
 And bliss, though blind, to be. 
 
 121
 
 TO A FRIEND 
 
 TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME A BOX 
 OF VIOLETS 
 
 Nay, more than violets 
 These thoughts of thine, friend ! 
 Rather thy reedy brook — 
 Taw's tributary — 
 At midnight murmuring. 
 Descried them, the delicate 
 Dark-eyed goddesses, 
 There by his cressy bed 
 Dissolved and dreaming 
 Dreams that distilled into dew- 
 All the purple of night. 
 All the shine of a planet. 
 
 Whereat he whispered ; 
 And they arising — 
 
 122
 
 TO A FRIEND 
 
 Of day's forget-me-nots 
 The duskier sisters — 
 Descended, relinquished 
 The orchard, the trout-pool, 
 Torridge and Tamar, 
 The Druid circles, 
 Sheepfolds of Dartmoor, 
 Granite and sandstone ; 
 By Roughtor, Dozmare, 
 Down the vale of the Fowey 
 Moving in silence. 
 Brushing the nightshade 
 By bridges cyclopean. 
 By Trevenna, Treverbyn, 
 Lawharne and Largin, 
 By Glynn, Lanhydrock, 
 Restormel, Lostwithiel, 
 Dark wood, dim water, dreaming town ; 
 Down the vale of the Fowey 
 123
 
 TO A FRIEND 
 
 To the tidal water 
 Washing the feet 
 Of fair St Winnow — 
 Each, in her exile 
 Musing the message, 
 Passed, as the starlit 
 Shadow of Ruth from the land 
 of the Moabite. 
 
 So they came. 
 
 Valley-born, valley-nurtured — 
 Came to the tideway 
 The jetties, the anchorage. 
 The salt wind piping, 
 Snoring in Equinox, 
 By ships at anchor. 
 By quays tormented. 
 Storm-bitten streets ; 
 Came to the Haven 
 124
 
 TO A FRIEND 
 
 Crying, " Ah, sheltei- us, 
 The strayed ambassadors, 
 Love's lost legation 
 On a comfortless coast ! " 
 
 Nay, but a little sleep, 
 
 A little folding 
 
 Of petals to the lull 
 
 Of quiet rainfalls — 
 
 Here in my garden. 
 
 In angle sheltered 
 
 From north and east wind — 
 
 Softly shall recreate 
 
 The courage of charity. 
 
 Henceforth not to me only 
 
 Breathing the message. 
 
 Clean-breath'd Sirens ! 
 Hencefore the mariner 
 125
 
 TO A FRIEXD 
 
 Here in the fairway 
 Fetching — foul of keel. 
 Long-stray but fortunate- 
 Out of the fogs, the vast 
 Atlantic solitudes, 
 Shall, by the hawser-pin 
 Waiting the signal 
 Leave — go — anchor ! 
 Scent the familiar. 
 The unforgettable 
 Fragrance of home ; 
 So in a long breath 
 Bless us unknowing : 
 Bless them, the violets. 
 Bless me, the gardener. 
 Bless thee, the giver. 
 
 126
 
 OF THREE CHILDREN 
 
 OF THREE CHILDREN CHOOSING 
 A CHAPLET OF VERSE 
 
 You and I and Burd so blithe — 
 Burd so blithe, and you, and I — 
 
 The Mower he would whet his scythe 
 Before the dew was dry. 
 
 And he woke soon, but we woke soon 
 And drew the nursery blind, 
 
 All wondering at the waning moon 
 With the small June roses twined : 
 
 Low in her cradle swung the moon 
 With an elfin dawn behind. 
 
 In whispers, while our elders slept, 
 We knelt and said our prayers. 
 
 And dress'd us and on tiptoe crept 
 Adown the creaking stairs. 
 127
 
 OF THREE CHILDREN 
 
 The world's possessors lay abed, 
 
 And all the world was ours — 
 " Nay, nay, but hark ! the Mower's tread ! 
 
 And we must save the flowers ! " 
 
 The Mower knew not rest nor haste — 
 
 That old unweary man : 
 But we were young. We paused and raced 
 
 And gather'd while we ran. 
 
 O youth is careless, youth is fleet. 
 
 With heart and wing of bird ! 
 The lark flew up beneath our feet. 
 
 To his copse the pheasant whirr'd ; 
 
 The cattle from their darkling lairs 
 Heaved up and stretch'd themselves ; 
 
 Almost they trod at unawares 
 Upon the busy elves 
 128
 
 OF THREE CHILDREN 
 
 That dropp'd their spools of gossamer, 
 
 To dangle and to dry, 
 And scurried home to the hollow fir 
 
 Where the white owl winks an eye. 
 
 Nor you, nor I, nor Burd so blithe 
 Had driven them in this haste ; 
 
 But the old, old man, so lean and lithe, 
 That afar behind us paced ; 
 
 So lean and lithe, with shoulder'd scythe. 
 And a whetstone at his waist. 
 
 Within the gate, in a grassy round 
 
 Whence they had earliest flown, 
 He upside-down'd his scythe, and ground 
 
 Its edge with careful hone. 
 But we heeded not, if we heard, the sound, 
 
 For the world was ours alone ; 
 The world was ours ! — and with a bound 
 
 The conquering Sun upshone ! 
 9 129
 
 OF THREE CHILDREN 
 
 And while as from his level ray 
 
 We stood our eyes to screen, 
 The world was not as yesterday 
 
 Our homelier world had been — 
 So grey and golden-green it lay 
 
 All in his quiet sheen, 
 That wove the gold into the grey. 
 
 The grey into the green. 
 Sure never hand of Puck, nor wand 
 
 Of Mab the fairies' queen, 
 Nor prince nor peer of fairyland 
 Had power to weave that wide riband 
 
 Of the grey, the gold, the green. 
 
 But the Gods of Greece had been before 
 
 And walked our meads along, 
 The great authentic Gods of yore 
 That haunt the earth from shore to shore 
 Trailing their robes of song. 
 130
 
 OF THREE CHILDREN 
 
 And where a sandall'd foot had brush'd. 
 
 And where a scarfed hem^ 
 The flowers awoke from sleep and rush'd 
 
 Like children after them. 
 
 Pell-mell they poured by vale and stream, 
 
 By lawn and steepy brae — 
 " O children, children ! while you dream, 
 
 Your floAvers run all away ! " 
 
 But afar and abed and sleepily 
 
 The children heard us call ; 
 And Burd so blithe and you and I 
 
 Must be gatherers for all. 
 
 The meadow-sweet beside the hedge, 
 
 The dog-rose and the vetch. 
 The sworded iris 'mid the sedge, 
 
 The mallow by the ditch — 
 
 9* 131
 
 OF THREE CHILDREN 
 
 With these, and by the wimpUng burn, 
 Where the midges danced in reels. 
 
 With the watermint and the lady fern 
 We brimni'd out wicker creels : 
 
 Till, all so heavily they weigh'd. 
 On a bank we flung us down, 
 
 Shook out our treasures 'neath the shade 
 And wove this Triple Crown. 
 
 Flower after flower — for some there were 
 The noonday heats hud dried. 
 
 And some were dear yet could not bear 
 A lovelier cheek beside. 
 
 And some were perfect past compare — 
 
 Ah, darlings ! what a world of care 
 It cost us to decide ! 
 132
 
 OF THREE CHILDREN 
 
 Natheless we sang in sweet accord, 
 Each bending o'er her brede — 
 
 " O there be flowers in Oxenford, 
 And flowers be north of Tweed, 
 
 And flowers there be on earthly sward 
 That owe no mortal seed ! " 
 
 And these, the brightest that we wove. 
 
 Were Innocence and Truth, 
 And holy Peace and angel Love, 
 
 Glad Hope and gentle Ruth. 
 Ah, bind them fast with triple twine 
 Of Memory, the wild woodbine 
 That still, being human, stays divine. 
 And alone is age's youth ! . . . 
 
 But hark ! but look ! the warnincp rook 
 Wings home in level flight ; 
 
 The children tired with play and book 
 Have kiss'd and call'd Good-night ! 
 
 ^33
 
 OF THREE CHILDREN 
 
 Ah, sisters, look ! What fields be these 
 
 That lie so sad and shorn ? 
 What hand has cut our coppices, 
 And thro' the trimm'd, the ruin'd, trees 
 
 Lets wail a wind forlorn ? 
 
 ' Tis Time, ' tis Time has done this crime 
 And laid our meadows waste — 
 
 The bent unwearied tyrant Time, 
 That knows nor rest nor haste. 
 
 Yet courage, children ; homeward bring 
 Your hearts, your garlands high ; 
 
 For we have dared to do a thing 
 That shall his worst defy. 
 
 We cannot nail the dial's hand ; 
 
 We cannot bind the sun 
 By Gibeon to stay and stand. 
 
 Or the moon o'er Ajalon ; 
 134
 
 OF THREE CHILDREN 
 
 We cannot blunt th' abhorred shears, 
 Nor shift the skeins of Fate, 
 
 Nor say unto the posting years 
 "Ye shall not desolate." 
 
 We cannot cage the lion's rage, 
 
 Nor teach the turtle-dove 
 Beside what well his moan to tell 
 
 Or to haunt one only grove ; 
 But the lion's brood will range for food 
 
 As the fledged bird will rove. 
 
 And east and west we three may wend- 
 Yet we a wreath have wound 
 
 For us shall wind withouten end 
 The wide, wide world around : 
 
 Be it east or west, and ne'er so far. 
 In east or west shall peep no star, 
 
 135
 
 OF THREE CHILDREN 
 
 No blossom break from ground. 
 But minds us of the wreath we wove 
 Of innocence and holy love 
 
 That in the meads we found, 
 And handsell'd from the Mower's scythe, 
 And bound with memory's living withe — 
 You and I and Burd so blithe — 
 
 Three maidens on a mound : 
 And all of happiness was ours 
 Shall find remembrance 'mid the flowers, 
 Shall take revival from the flowers 
 
 And by the flowers be crown'd. 
 
 136
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 To A Mother, on seeing her Smile repeated 
 IN HER Daughter's Eyes 
 
 A thousand songs I might have made 
 
 Of You, and only You ; 
 A thousand thousand tongues of fire 
 That trembled down a golden wire 
 To lamp the night with stars, to braid 
 
 The morning bough with dew. 
 
 Within the greenwood girl and boy 
 
 Had loiter'd to their lure. 
 And men in cities closed their books 
 To dream of Spring and running brooks 
 And all that ever was of joy 
 
 For manhood to abjure. 
 137
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 And I'd have made them strong, so strong 
 
 Outlasting towers and towns — 
 Millennial shepherds 'neath the thorn 
 Had piped them to a world reborn, 
 And danced Delight the dale along 
 And up the daisied downs. 
 
 A thousand songs I might have made . . . 
 
 But you required them not ; 
 Content to reign your little while 
 Ere, abdicating with a smile. 
 You pass'd into a shade, a shade 
 
 Immortal — and forgot ! 
 
 138
 
 FUINTEU BV 
 
 TURVBULL AND 8PKAK8. 
 
 XDINBCHOB
 
 /« i. ^ VJ J' A-.L.^ 
 
 THE UNIVI-RSITY LIBRARY 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below 
 
 MOV 2 
 
 JAN 1 9 195a 
 
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 1980 
 
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