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DÎS ALITER VISUM;
LE BYRON DE NOS JOURS.
STOP, let me have the truth of that!
Is that all true ? I say, the day Ten years ago when both of us
Met on a morning, friends — as thus We meet this evening, friends or what?
Did you — because I took your arm
And sillily smiled, “A mass of brass That sea looks, blazing underneath!”
While up the cliff-road edged with heath, We took the turns nor came to harm
Did you consider “ Now makes twice
That I have seen her, walked and talked With this poor, pretty, thoughtful thing,
Whose worth I weigh: she tries to sing ; Draws, hopes in time the eye grows nice;
“ Reads verse and thinks she understands ; .
Loves all, at any rate, that's great, Good, beautiful ; but much as we
Down at the Bath-house love the sea, Who breathe its salt and bruise its sands :
5. . “ While ... do but follow the fishing-gull
That flaps and floats from wave to cave ! There's the sea-lover, fair my friend !
What then? Be patient, mark and mend ! Had you the making of your scull ?”
And did you, when we faced the church
With spire and sad slate roof, aloof From human fellowship so far,
Where a few graveyard crosses are, And garlands for the swallows' perch, —
Did you determine, as we stepped "
O’er the lone stone fence, “ Let me get Her for myself, and what's the earth
With all its art, verse, music, worth — Compared with love, found, gained, and kept?
“Schumann 's our music-maker now;
Has his march-movement youth and mouth ? Ingres 's the modern man that paints ;
Which will lean on me, of his saints ? Heine for songs ; for kisses, how ?”
And did you, when we entered, reached
The votive frigate, soft aloft Riding on air this hundred years,
Safe-smiling at old hopes and fears, – Did you draw profit while she preached ?
Resolving “Fools we wise men grow!
Yes, I could easily blurt out curt Some question that might find reply
As prompt in her stopped lips, dropped eye, And rush of red to cheek and brow:
11. “ Thus were a match made, sure and fast,
'Mid the blue weed-flowers round the mound Where, issuing, we shall stand and stay
For one more look at Baths and bay, Sands, sea-gulls, and the old church last
“ A match 'twixt me, bent, wigged, and lamed,
Famous, however, for verse and worse,
When gout and glory seat me there,
“ And this young beauty, round and sound
As a mountain-apple, youth and truth With loves and doves, at all events
With money in the Three per Cents; Whose choice of me would seem profound:
14. “She might take me as I take her.
Perfect the hour would pass, alas ! Climb high, love high, what matter? Feet, feelings, must descend the hill:
An hour's perfection can't recur.