III.

I made a feast; I bade him come:

I won his love, I brought him home.

The wind is roaring in turret and tree. And after supper, on a bed,

Upon my lap he laid his head:

O the Earl was fair to see!

IV.

I kissed his eyelids into rest:

His ruddy cheek upon my breast.

The wind is raging in turret and tree.

I hated him with the hate of hell,

But I loved his beauty passing well.

O the Earl was fair to see!

V.

I rose up in the silent night:

I made my dagger sharp and bright.

The wind is raving in turret and tree.

As half-asleep his breath he drew,

Three times I stabbed him through and through. O the Earl was fair to see!

VI.

I curled and combed his comely head,

He looked so grand when he was dead.
The wind is blowing in turret and tree.
I wrapt his body in the sheet,

And laid him at his mother's feet.

VOL. I.

O the Earl was fair to see!

TO

WITH THE FOLLOWING POEM.

I SEND you here a sort of allegory,
(For you will understand it,) of a soul,
A sinful soul possessed of many gifts,
A spacious garden full of flowering weeds,
A glorious Devil, large in heart and brain,
That did love Beauty only, (Beauty seen
In all varieties of mould and mind,)

And Knowledge for its beauty; or if Good,
Good only for its beauty, seeing not

That Beauty, Good, and Knowledge, are three sisters
That dote upon each other, friends to man,

Living together under the same roof,

And never can be sundered without tears.

And he that shuts Love out, in turn shall be
Shut out from Love, and on her threshold lie
Howling in outer darkness. Not for this
Was common clay ta'en from the common earth,
Moulded by God, and tempered with the tears
Of angels to the perfect shape of man.

THE PALACE OF ART.

I BUILT my soul a lordly pleasure-house,
Wherein at ease for aye to dwell.

I said, "O Soul, make merry and carouse,
Dear soul, for all is well."

A huge crag-platform, smooth as burnished brass.
I chose. The ranged ramparts bright
From level meadow-bases of deep grass

Suddenly scaled the light.

Thereon I built it firm. Of ledge or shelf

The rock rose clear, or winding stair. My soul would live alone unto herself

In her high palace there.

And "while the world runs round and round," I said.
Reign thou apart, a quiet king,

Still as, while Saturn whirls, his steadfast shade
Sleeps on his luminous ring."

To which my soul made answer readily: "Trust me, in bliss I shall abide

In this great mansion, that is built for me,

So royal-rich and wide."

Four courts I made, East and West, South and North,

In each a squared lawn, wherefrom

The golden gorge of dragons spouted forth

A flood of fountain-foam.

And round the cool green courts there ran a row
Of cloisters, branched like mighty woods,

Echoing all night to that sonorous flow

Of spouted fountain-floods.