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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
There are flashes struck from midnights, there are fire
flames noondays kindle, Whereby piled-up honours perish, whereby swollen
ambitions dwindle, While just this or that poor impulse, which for once
had play unstilled, Seems the sole work of a life-time that away the rest
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
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
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!
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.
CHRIST God who savest man, save most
Of men Count Gismond who saved me!
Chose time and place and company
And doubtlessly, ere he could draw
All points to one, he must have schemed !
Few half so happy as I seemed,
I thought they loved me, did me grace
To please themselves; 't was all their deed.
If showing mine so caused to bleed
Each a queen
They, too, so beauteous !
By virtue of her brow and breast;
As I do. E'en when I was dressed,
But no : they let me laugh, and sing
My birthday song quite through, adjust The last rose in my garland, fling
A last look on the mirror, trust My arms to each an arm of theirs, And so descend the castle-stairs
And come out on the morning troop
Of merry friends who kissed my cheek, And called me queen, and made me stoop
Under the canopy—(a streak That pierced it, of the outside sun, Powdered with gold its gloom's soft dun)
And they could let me take my state
And foolish throne amid applause Of all come there to celebrate
My queen's-day-Oh I think the cause Of much was, they forgot no crowd Makes up for parents in their shroud !
However that be, all eyes were bent
Upon me, when my cousins cast
The victor's crown, but . . . there, 't will last
See! Gismond 's at the gate, in talk
With his two boys: I can proceed.
Forth boldly—to my face, indeed-
“ Bring torches ! Wind the penance-sheet
“ About her! Let her shun the chaste,
“ Shall she, whose body I embraced
I? What I answered ? As I live,
I never fancied such a thing
What says the body when they spring