60 And, strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot And suddenly one more impatient cried— 61 Then said another- Surely not in vain 239 • My Substance from the common Earth was ta’en, "That He who subtly wrought me into Shape ' Should stamp me back to common Earth again.’ 62 Another said—' Why, ne'er a peevish Boy, 245 'Would break the Bowl from which he drank in Joy; 'Shall He that made the Vessel in pure Love And Fancy, in an after Rage destroy !' 63 None answer'd this; but after Silence spake 6 250 They sneer at me for leaning all awry; 'What did the Hand then of the Potter shake? ' 64 Said one- Folks of a surly Tapster tell, And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell; 6 • They talk of some strict Testing of us-Pish! 'He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well.' 65 Then said another with a long-drawn Sigh, But, fill me with the old familiar Juice, 'Methinks I might recover by and by !' 66 256 260 So while the Vessels one by one were speaking, 67 Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide, 68 That ev'n my buried Ashes such a Snare 69 Indeed the Idols I have loved so long 265 270 Have done my Credit in Men's Eye much wrong: Have drown'd my Honour in a shallow Cup, And sold my Reputation for a Song. 70 Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before I swore-but was I sober when I swore ? 276 And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore. 71 And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel, 72 280 284 Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose ! That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close ! The Nightingale that in the Branches sang, Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows! 73 Ah, Love could thou and I with Fate conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, 290 Would not we shatter it to bits-and then Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire! 74 Ah, Moon of my Delight who know'st no wane, 75 295 299 And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass, And in thy joyous Errand reach the Spot Where I made one- -turn down an empty Glass ! TAMAM SHUD. E. FITZGERALD. 320 THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings 5 Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair. Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl; And every chambered cell, Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, Before thee lies revealed Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed! Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, 10 15 20 Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more. Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea, Cast from her lap forlorn! From thy dead lips a clearer note is born 25 Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings: Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, Leave thy low-vaulted past! Let each new temple, nobler than the last, 30 34 Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea. O. W. HOLMES. 321 THE MEN OF OLD I know not that the men of old Were better than men now, Of heart more kind, of hand more bold, I heed not those who pine for force As if they thus could check the course Still it is true, and over true, That I delight to close This book of life self-wise and new, On all that humble happiness, The daylight of contentedness That on those faces shone ! With rights, tho' not too closely scanned, Enjoyed, as far as known, With will by no reverse unmanned, With pulse of even tone,― They from to-day and from to-night Than yesterday and yesternight To them was life a simple art A game where each man took his part, A battle whose great scheme and scope Each with his fronting foe. Man now his Virtue's diadem Puts on and proudly wears, Great thoughts, great feelings, came to them, Like instincts, unawares : Blending their souls' sublimest needs They went about their gravest deeds, And what if Nature's fearful wound 36 40 For that their love but flowed more fast, 45 Their charities more free, Not conscious what mere drops they cast Into the evil sea. A man's best things are nearest him, It is the distant and the dim That we are sick to greet : For flowers that grow our hands beneath 50 Our hearts must die, except they breathe 55 The air of fresh Desire. |