Fringilla: Some Tales In Verse Part 15

What is fame, compared with these, Fame of wisdom, sword, or pen?

Who would quit the meadow breeze, For the sultry breath of men?

These have been my childhood's love, These my maiden visions were; When I meet their gaze above, These will tell me, G.o.d is there."

$Pausias$

"'Tis done! No more the palsied doubt molests; The crown of glory on my labour rests.

Thy clear voice hath my flagging thoughts supplied, My model thou, my teacher, and my bride!

Now stand, beloved one, where the soft glow lies, Yet judge not rashly, ere the colour dries.

Find every fault, pick every flaw thou canst; I'll not be vexed; true art is thus advanced.

So meek is art, that (when it comprehends) It loves the carping of its dearest friends.

If my own bride condemns my efforts--let her.

A poor daub? Well let some one do it better."

$Glycera$

"My love, my lord, my monarch of high art, Forgive a tongue held fast and bound by heart.

Not Orpheus, Linus, or great Hermes could Find words to make their rapture understood.

No Muse, no Phoebus, hath this work inspired, But Jove himself, with heaven's own splendour fired.

I see the nursing fingers of the day, And night as well, upon their offspring play-- The silent glide of moon, that hushed their sleep, (As mother at her infant steals a peep) Anon, with pearly glances half withdrawn, The gentle hesitation of the dawn; I see the sun his golden target raise, And drive in tremulous ranks the woodland haze; Awakened by whose call the flowers arise, With tears of joy and blushes of surprise; From bulb and bush, from leaf and blade, spring up Bell, disk, or star, plume, sceptre, fan, or cup; A thousand forms, a thousand hues of bloom Fill earth and heaven with beauty and perfume.

All this, by thine enchantment, liveth here; Oh wondrous power, that chills my pride with fear!"

$Pausias$

"Thy praise, sweet critic, makes thee doubly dear.

But what of thy fair self--thy form, thy face, The flower of flowers, the gracefulness of grace?"

$Glycera$

"I see why thou hast placed me among these; I serve a purpose--'tis to scare the bees.

Sweet love hath right to place me anywhere; And yet I mourn, to find myself so fair."

$Pausias$

"A maid lament her beauty! Thou hast shown, A thousand times, a wit beyond mine own; Yet is it kind to such a love as mine, To grudge it refuge in a lovely shrine?"

$Glycera$

"No shrine, no throne, of earth or heaven above, Can be too fair a dwelling-place for love.

But that which makes me grieve, myself to see, Is memory of the bitter loss to thee; That earthly charms--as men such things esteem-- Should tantalize thee, in a weeping dream!"

$Pausias$

"My own, my only love, what wouldst thou say?

My heart hath borne a heavy bode, all day."

$Glycera$

"I durst not tell thee, till thy work was done; But now I must, before the setting sun.

Last night, when life was lapsed in quietude, Beside my couch a stately figure stood-- A virgin form, in garb of chace arrayed, With bow and quiver, baldric, and steel blade; Majestic as a palm that scorns the wind, And taller than the daughters of mankind Twas Artemis, close-girt in silver sheen, The G.o.ddess of the woods, the Maiden-queen.

Cold terror seized me, and mute awe, the while She oped her proud lips, with an icy smile-- 'Whose votary art thou? Shall I resign 'To wanton Cypris this sworn nymph of mine?

'Have I enfeoffed thee of my holiest glen?

'To have thee tainted by the lips of men?

'Shall urchin Eros laugh at my decree?

'No Hymen torch, no loosened zone for thee I 'To-morrow, when my crescent tops yon oak, 'Thou shalt return unto thy proper yoke.'

She closed her lips, and like the barb of frost, Her fingers on my bounding heart outspread: My breast is ice, mv soul is of the dead: The sod, the cold clay, are my marriage-bed; Sweet sun, sweet flowers, sweet Love, forever lost!"

$Pausias$

"I'll not endure it; it shall ne'er be true; If that cold tyrant comes--I'll run her through."

$Glycera$

"What can'st thou do against the G.o.ddess trine, Selene, Artemis, and Proserpine?

Oh love, thou hast before thee life and fame, And some new Glycera with a loftier name.

So tender is my heart, that it would break, To think that thou wert suffering for my sake.

Be angry with me; doubt my faith--or try; And count it for a crime of mine to die: Or tell thyself--if still a pain there be-- That wealth and grandeur were not meant for me.

Yet think sometimes, when thou art well consoled, That no one loves thee, like some one of old."

$Pausias$

"My life, my soul, my heart of hearts, my all, Together let us cling, till death befall."

$Glycera$

"The sun is gone; the crescent waxeth bright; I fly to darkness, or eternal light.

Great are the G.o.ds; but greater yet is love; Here thou art mine, and I am thine above."

$Pausias$

"Oh fame, and conquest, pomp, and power, and state, What are ye, when the heart is desolate?

A few more years of labour, and slow breath-- Till death benign hath overtaken death."

[Ill.u.s.tration: 159.]

BUs...o...b..; OR, A MICHAELMAS GOOSE

When I was Head of Blunders school, Before the age of stokers, Compelled by rank to look a fool Betwixt a pair of "chokers,"

Tom Tanner's father's wrote, to say That we should both of us come, To spend Saint Michael's holiday At the Vicarage of Bus...o...b...

One trifle marred this merry plan-- I had contrived, though barr'd up, To typify the future man, By getting very hard up.

Oh bimetallic champion, some New ratio doth seem proper, When the circulating medium Has fallen to half a copper.