Part 8 (1/2)

BUONCONTE

Sister, the sun has ceased to s.h.i.+ne; By companies of twain and trine Stars gather; from the sea The moon comes momently.

On all the roads that ring our hill The sighing and the hymns are still: It is our time to gain Strength for to-morrow's pain.

Yet still your eyes are wholly bent Upon the way that Virgil went, Following Sordello's sign, With the dark Florentine.

Night now has barred their upward track: There where the mountain-side folds back And in the Vale of Flowers The Princes count their hours

Those three friends sit in the clear starlight With the green-clad angels left and right,-- Soul made by wakeful soul More earnest for the goal.

So let us, sister, though our place Is barren of that Valley's grace, Sit hand in hand, till we Seem rich as those friends be.

II

LA PIA

Brother, 't were sweet your hand to feel In mine; it would a little heal The shame that makes me poor, And dumb at the heart's core.

But where our spirits felt Love's dearth, Down on the green and pleasant earth, Remains the fleshly sh.e.l.l, Love's garment tangible.

So now our hands have naught to say: Heart unto heart some other way Must utter forth its pain, Must glee or comfort gain.

Ah, no! For souls like you and me Some comfort waits, but never glee: Not yours the young men's singing In Heaven, at the bride-bringing;

Not mine, beside G.o.d's living waters, Dance of the marriageable daughters, The laughter and the ease Beneath His summer trees.

III

BUONCONTE

In fair Arezzo's halls and bowers My Giovanna speeds her hours Delicately, nor cares To shorten by her prayers

My days upon this mount of ruth: If those who come from earth speak sooth, Though still I call and call, She does not heed at all.

And if aright your words I read At Dante's pa.s.sing, he you wed Dipped from the drains of h.e.l.l The marriage hydromel.

O therefore, while the moon intense Holds yonder dreaming sea suspense, And round the shadowy coasts Gather the wistful ghosts,

Let us sit quiet all the night, And wonder, wonder on the light Worn by those spirits fair Whom Love has not left bare.

IV

LA PIA

Even as theirs, the chance was mine To meet and mate beneath Love's sign, To feel in soul and sense The solemn influence

Which, breathed upon a man or maid, Maketh forever unafraid, Though life with death unite That spirit to affright,--