« ПретходнаНастави »
As if they played at being names
“When I last saw Waring ..." (How all turned to him who spoke! You saw Waring? Truth or joke? In land-travel or sea-faring?) “We were sailing by Triest “Where a day or two we harboured: “A sunset was in the West, “When, looking over the vessel's side, “One of our company espied “A sudden speck to larboard. “And as a sea-duck flies and swims “At once, so came the light craft up, “With its sole lateen sail that trims “And turns (the water round its rims “Dancing, as round a sinking cup) “And by us like a fish it curled, “And drew itself up close beside, “ Its great sail on the instant furled, “And o'er its thwarts a shrill voice cried, “(A neck as bronzed as a Lascar's) “Buy wine of us, you English Brig? “Or fruit, tobacco and cigars ? “A pilot for you to Triest? “Without one, look you ne'er so big, “'They'll never let you up the bay! “We natives should know best.' “I turned, and 'just those fellows' way, “Our captain said, “The 'long-shore thieves “Are laughing at us in their sleeves.'
“In truth, the boy leaned laughing back;
RUDEL TO THE LADY OF TRIPOLI I KNOW a Mount, the gracious Sun perceives | First, when he visits, last, too, when he leaves The world; and, vainly favoured, it repays The day-long glory of his steadfast gaze By no change of its large calm front of snow. And underneath the Mount, a Flower I know He cannot have perceived, that changes ever
At his approach; and, in the lost endeavour
hany a lanlike a triumphal tahnames vie,
Oh, Angel of the East, one, one gold look
CHE should never have looked at me,
I suppose . . . she may discover
And yet leave much as she found them: But I'm not so, and she knew it
When she fixed me, glancing round them.
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."
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
And apprise it if pursuing
To its triumph or undoing.
There are flashes struck from midnights,
There are fire-flames noondays kindle, Whereby piled-up honours perish,
Whereby swoln 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.
Doubt you if, in some such moment,
As she fixed me, she felt clearly,
Here an age 'tis resting merely,
While the true end, sole and single,
With some other soul to mingle?
Else it loses what it lived for,
And eternally must lose it;
Deeper blisses, if you choose it,
Have been lost here. Doubt you whether
Mine and her souls rushed together?
The world's honours, in derision,
Never fear but there's provision
Lest we walk the earth in rapture!
Just so much more prize their capture. 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,
Both our powers, alone and blended-
This world's use will have been ended.