Fledged as it were with Mercury's ankle-wing, Whirls her to me but will she fling herself, Shameless upon me? Catch her, goatfoot: nay, Hide, hide them, million-myrtled wilderness, And cavern-shadowing laurels, hide! do I wish What?-that the bush were leafless? or to whelm All of them in one massacre! O ye Gods, I know you careless, yet, behold, to you From childly wont and ancient use 1 call I thought I lived securely as yourselves No lewdness, narrowing envy, monkey spite, No madness of ambition, avarice, none: No larger feast than under plane or pine With neighbors laid along the grass, to take Only such cups as left us friendly warm, Affirming each his own philosophyNothing to mar the sober majesties Of settled, sweet, Epicurean life. But now it seems some unseen monster lays His vast and filthy hands upon my will, Wrenching it backward into his; and spoils My bliss in being; and t was not great; For save when shutting reasons up in rhythm, Or Heliconian honey in living_words, To make a truth less harsh, I often grew Tired of so much within our little life, Crown'd with a flower or two, and there an end And since the nobler pleasure seems to fade, Why should I, beastlike as I find myself, Not manlike end myself?-our privi lege What beast has heart to do it? And day Cracks all to pieces,-and that hour perhaps Is not so far when momentary man Shall seem no more a something to himself, But he, his hopes and hates, his homes and fanes, And even his bones long laid within the grave, The very sides of the grave itself shall pass, Vanishing, atom and void, atom and void, Into the unseen forever,-till that hour, My golden work in which I told a truth That stays the rolling Ixionian wheel And numbs the Fury's ringlet-suake, and plucks The mortal soul from out immortal hell, Shall stand: ay, surely: then it fails at last With that he drove the knife into his side: She heard him raging, heard him fall; ran in, Beat breast, tore hair, cried out upon herself As having fail'd in duty to him, shriek'd That she but meant to win him back, fell on him, Clasp'd, kiss'd him, wail'd: he an swer'd, "Care not thou! Thy duty? What is duty? Fare thee well!" THREE SONNETS TO A COQUETTE. SONG. My life is full of weary days, But good things have not kept aloof, Nor wandered into other ways: I have not lack'd thy mild reproof, Nor golden largess of thy praise. And now shake hands across the brink Of that deep grave to which I go : Shake hands once more: I cannot sink So far-far down, but I shall know The voice, and auswer from below. THE CAPTAIN. A LEGEND OF THE NAVY. HE that only rules by terror Doeth grievous wrong. Deep as Hell I count his error, Brave the Captain was: the seamen Gallant sons of English freemen, But they hated his oppression, So for every light transgression So they past by capes and islands, On a day when they were going In the north, her canvas flowing, Then the Captain's color heighten'd, "Chase," he said: the ship flew forward, And the wind did blow; Then they look'd at him they hated, Mute with folded arms they waited- But they heard the foeman's thunder Spars were splinter'd, decks were shat ter'd, Bullets fell like rain; Over mast and deck were scatter'd Blood and brains of men. 221 |