SONG FROM PIPPA PASSES: I GIVE her but a least excuse to love me! When-where How can this arm establish her above me, But "Oh," cried the maiden, binding her tresses, II Is she wronged?-To the rescue of her honour, Is she poor?-What costs it to become a donour? But that fortune should have thrust all this upon her! ("Nay, list!"-bade Kate the queen ; And still cried the maiden, binding her tresses, J CRISTINA. I SHE should never have looked at me if she meant I should not love her! There are plenty . . men, you call such, I suppose . she may discover All her soul to, if she pleases, and yet leave much as she found them: But I'm not so, and she knew it when she fixed me, glancing round them. II What? To fix me thus meant nothing? But I can't tell (there's my weakness) What her look said-no vile cant, sure, about "need to strew the bleakness "Of some lone shore with its pearl-seed, that the sea feels "no "strange yearning "That such souls have, most to lavish where there 's chance of least returning." III Oh, we 're sunk enough here, God knows! but not quite so sunk that moments, Sure tho' seldom, are denied us, when the spirit's true endowments Stand out plainly from its false ones, and apprise it if pursuing Or the right way or the wrong way, to its triumph or undoing. IV There are flashes struck from midnights, there are fireflames noondays kindle, Whereby piled-up honours perish, whereby swollen ambitions dwindle, While just this or that poor impulse, which for once had play unstifled, Seems the sole work of a life-time that away the rest have trifled. V Doubt you if, in some such moment, as she fixed me, she felt clearly, Ages past the soul existed, here an age 't is resting merely, And hence fleets again for ages while the true end, sole and single, It stops here for is, this love-way, with some other soul to mingle? VI Else it loses what it lived for, and eternally must lose it; Better ends may be in prospect, deeper blisses (if you choose it), But this life's end and this love-bliss have been lost here. Doubt you whether This she felt as, looking at me, mine and her souls rushed together? VII Oh, observe! Of course, next moment, the world's honours, in derision, Trampled out the light for ever. Never fear but there's provision Of the devil's to quench knowledge, lest we walk the earth in rapture! -Making those who catch God's secret, just so much more prize their capture ! VIII Such am I the secret 's mine now! She has lost me, I : have gained her; Her soul's mine: and thus, grown perfect, I shall pass my life's remainder. Life will just hold out the proving both our powers, alone and blended: And then, come next life quickly! This world's use will have been ended. COUNT GISMOND. AIX IN PROVENCE. I CHRIST God who savest man, save most II And doubtlessly, ere he could draw All points to one, he must have schemed ! That miserable morning saw Few half so happy as I seemed, While being dressed in queen's array III I thought they loved me, did me grace If showing mine so caused to bleed My cousins' hearts, they should have dropped A word, and straight the play had stopped. IV They, too, so beauteous! Each a queen V But no they let me laugh, and sing My birthday song quite through, adjust My arms to each an arm of theirs, VI And come out on the morning troop Of merry friends who kissed my cheek, That pierced it, of the outside sun, VII And they could let me take my state My queen's-day-Oh I think the cause VIII However that be, all eyes were bent Upon me, when my cousins cast Theirs down, 't was time I should present The victor's crown, but . . . there, 't will last No long time. . . the old mist again Blinds me as then it did. How vain! IX See! Gismond 's at the gate, in talk With his two boys: I can proceed. |