230 One picture, just one more-the Virgin's face, Finish the portrait out of hand-there, there, If he demurs; the whole should prove enough To pay for this same Cousin's freak. Beside, 240 What's better and what's all I care about, Get you the thirteen scudi for the ruff! Love, does that please you? Ah, but what does he, The Cousin! what does he to please you more? I am grown peaceful as old age to-night. 245 I regret little, I would change still less. Since there my past life lies, why alter it? The very wrong to Francis!—it is true I took his coin, was tempted and complied, And built this house and sinned, and all is said. 250 My father and my mother died of want. Well, had I riches of my own? you see How one gets rich! Let each one bear his lot. They were born poor, lived poor, and poor they died: And I have labored somewhat in my time 255 And not been paid profusely. Some good son You love me quite enough, it seems to-night. This must suffice me here. What would one have? 260 In heaven, perhaps, new chances, one more chance Four great walls in the New Jerusalem To cover the three first without a wife, 265 While I have mine! So-still they overcome Because there's still Lucrezia,—as I choose. Again the Cousin's whistle! Go, my Love. PROSPICE (From Dramatis Persona, 1864) Fear death?-to feel the fog in my throat, When the snows begin, and the blasts denote 5 The power of the night, the press of the storm, The post of the foe; 10 Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, For the journey is done and the summit attained, Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be The reward of it all. I was ever a fighter, so-one fight more, The best and the last! 15 I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forebore, 20 And bade me creep past. No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers, The heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave, 25 Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, Then a light, then thy breast, O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, RABBI BEN EZRA (From the same) I. Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made: 5 Who saith, "A whole I planned, Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!" II. Not that, amassing flowers, Youth sighed, "Which rose make ours, 10 Not that, admiring stars, It yearned," Nor Jove, nor Mars; Mine be some figured flame which blends, transscends them all!" III. Not for such hopes and fears 15 Do I remonstrate; folly wide the mark! Rather I prize the doubt Low kinds exist without, Finished and finite clods, untroubled by a spark. IV. Poor vaunt of life indeed, 20 Were man but formed to feed On joy, to solely seek and find and feast; Such feasting ended, then As sure an end to men; Irks care the crop-full bird? Frets doubt the maw-crammed beast? 25 Rejoice we are allied V. To That which doth provide UNIVA OF CAV And not partake, effect and not receive! A spark disturbs our clod; Nearer we hold of God 30 Who gives, than of His tribes that take, I must believe. VI. Then, welcome each rebuff That turns earth's smoothness rough, Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go! Be our joys three-parts pain! 35 Strive, and hold cheap the strain; Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe! VII. For thence,-a paradox Which comforts while it mocks,— Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail: 40 What I aspired to be, And was not, comforts me: A brute I might have been, but would not sink i' the scale. VIII. What is he but a brute Whose flesh hath soul to suit, 45 Whose spirit works lest arms and legs want play? To man, propose this test Thy body at its best, How far can that project thy soul on its lone way? IX. Yet gifts should prove their use: 50 I own the Past profuse Of power each side, perfection every turn: Eyes, ears took in their dole, Brain treasured up the whole; Should not the heart beat once live and learn?" "How good to X. 55 Not once beat "Praise be Thine! I see the whole design, I, who saw Power, see now Love perfect too: Thanks that I was a man! 60 Maker, remake complete,-I trust what Thou shalt do!" XI. For pleasant is this flesh; |