Part 31 (2/2)
There is no comfort in the bitter fee That scholars pay for fame. True sage is he Who doubts all doubt, and takes the soul on trust.
III.
THE DAISY.
See where it stands, the world-appointed flower, Pure gold at centre, like the sun at noon,-- A mimic sun to light a true-love bower For fair Queen Mab, now dead or in a swoon, Whom late a poet saw beneath the moon.
It lifts its dainty face till sunset hour, As if endowed with nympholeptic power,-- Then shuts its petals like a folding tune!
I love it more than words of mine can say, And more than anchorite may breathe in prayer.
Methinks the lark has made it still his care To brag of daisies to the lord of day.
Well! I will follow suit, as best I may, Launching my love-songs on the summer air.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
IV.
PROBATION.
Could I, O Love! obtain a charter clear To be thy bard, in all thy nights and days, I would consult the stars, from year to year, And talk with trees, and learn of them their ways, And why the nymphs so seldom now appear In human form, with rapt and earnest gaze; And I would learn of thee why joy decays, And why the Fauns have ceas'd to flourish here.
I would, in answer to the wind's ”Alas!”
Explain the causes of a sorrow's flight; I would peruse the writing on the gra.s.s Which flowers have traced in blue and red and white; And, reading these, I would, as from a pen, Read thoughts of thine unguess'd by other men!
V.
DANTE.
He liv'd and lov'd; he suffer'd; he was poor; But he was gifted with the gifts of Heaven, And those of all the week-days that are seven, And those of all the centuries that endure.
He bow'd to none; he kept his honour sure.
He follow'd in the wake of those Eleven Who walk'd with Christ, and lifted up his steven[A]
To keep the bulwarks of his faith secure.
He knew the secrets of the singing-time; He track'd the sun; he ate the luscious fruit Of grief and joy; and with his wonder-lute He made himself a name in every clime.
The minds of men were madly stricken mute And all the world lay subject to his rhyme!
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