Volume 8 — Canto III

Now, my Calliope! to teach incline what speech great Gama for the king did frame: Inspire immortal song, grant voice divine unto this mortal who so loves thy name. Thus may the God whose gift was Medicine, to whom thou barest Orpheus, lovely Dame! never for Daphne, Clytia, Leucothoe due love deny thee or inconstant grow he. Satisfy, Nymph! desires that in me teem, to sing the merits of thy Lusians brave; so worlds shall see and say that Tagus-stream rolls Aganippe's liquor. Leave, I crave, leave flow'ry Pindus-head; e'en now I deem Apollo bathes me in that sovran wave; else must I hold it, that thy gentle sprite, fears thy dear Orpheus fade through me from sight. All stood with open ears in long array to hear what mighty Gama mote unfold; when, past in thoughtful mood a brief delay, began he thus with brow high-raised and bold:— "Thou biddest me, O King! to say my say anent our grand genealogy of old: Thou bidd'st me not relate an alien story; Thou bidd'st me laud my brother Lusian's glory. "That one praise others' exploits and renown is honour'd custom which we all desire; yet fear I 'tis unfit to praise mine own; lest praise, like this suspect, no trust inspire; nor may I hope to make all matters known for Time however long were short; yet, sire! as thou commandest all is owed to thee; maugre my will I speak and brief will be. "Nay, more, what most obligeth me, in fine, is that no leasing in my tale may dwell; for of such Feats whatever boast be mine, when most is told, remaineth much to tell: But that due order wait on the design, e'en as desirest thou to learn full well, the wide-spread Continent first I'll briefly trace, then the fierce bloody wars that waged my race.

"Lo! here her presence showeth noble Spain, of Europe's body corporal the head; o'er whose home-rule, and glorious foreign reign, the fatal Wheel so many a whirl hath made; Yet ne'er her Past or force or fraud shall stain, nor restless Fortune shall her name degrade; no bonds her bellic offspring bind so tight but it shall burst them with its force of sprite. "There, facing Tingitania's shore, she seemeth to block and bar the Med'iterranean wave, where the known Strait its name ennobled deemeth by the last labour of the Theban Brave. Big with the burthen of her tribes she teemeth, circled by whelming waves that rage and rave; all noble races of such valiant breast, that each may justly boast itself the best. "Hers the Tarragonese who, famed in war, made aye-perturbed Parthenopé obey; the twain Asturias, and the haught Navarre twin Christian bulwarks on the Moslem way: Hers the Gallego canny, and the rare Castilian, whom his star raised high to sway Spain as her saviour, and his seign'iory feel Bætis, Leon, Granada, and Castile. "See, the head-crowning coronet is she of general Europe, Lusitania's reign, where endeth land and where beginneth sea, and Phœbus sinks to rest upon the main. Willed her the Heavens with all-just decree by wars to mar th' ignoble Mauritan, to cast him from herself: nor there consent he rule in peace the Fiery Continent. "This is my happy land, my home, my pride; where, if the Heav'ens but grant the pray'er I pray for glad return and every risk defied, there may my life-light fail and fade away. This was the Lusitania, name applied by Lusus or by Lysa, sons, they say, of antient Bacchus, or his boon compeers, eke the first dwellers of her eldest years. "Here sprang the Shepherd,[6] in whose name we see forecast of virile might, of virtuous meed; whose fame no force shall ever hold in fee, since fame of mighty Rome ne'er did the deed. This, by light Heaven's volatile decree, that antient Scyther, who devours his seed, made puissant pow'er in many a part to claim, assuming regal rank; and thus it came:— "A King there was in Spain, Afonso hight, who waged such warfare with the Saracen, that by his 'sanguined arms, and arts, and might, he spoiled the lands and lives of many men. When from Hercùlean Calpè winged her flight his fame to Caucasus Mount and Caspian glen, many a knight, who noblesse coveteth, comes offering service to such King and Death. "And with intrinsic love inflamèd more for the True Faith, than honours popular, they troopèd, gath'ering from each distant shore, leaving their dear-loved homes and lands afar. When with high feats of force against the Moor they proved of sing'ular worth in Holy War, willèd Afonso that their mighty deeds commens'urate gifts command and equal meeds. "'Mid them Henrique, second son, men say, of a Hungarian King, well-known and tried, by sort won Portugal which, in his day, ne prizèd was ne had fit cause for pride: His strong affection stronger to display the Spanish King decreed a princely bride, his only child, Teresa, to the count; And with her made him Seigneur Paramount. "This doughty Vassal from that servile horde, Hagar, the handmaid's seed, great vict'ories won; reft the broad lands adjacent with his sword and did whatever Brav'ery bade be done; Him, for his exploits excellent to reward, God gave in shortest space a gallant son, whose arm to 'noble and enfame was fain the warlike name of Lusitania's reign. "Once more at home this conqu'ering Henry stood who sacred Hierosol'yma had relievèd, his eyes had fed on Jordan's holy flood, which the Dear Body of Lord God had lavèd; when Godfrey left no foe to be subdued, and all Judæa conquered was and savèd, many that in his wars had done devoir to their own lordships took the way once more. "But when this stout and gallant Hun attainèd Life's fatal period, age and travail-spent, he gave, by Death's necessity constrainèd, his sprite to him that had that spirit lent: A son of tender years alone remainèd, to whom the Sire bequeath'd his 'bodiment; with bravest braves the youth was formed to cope, for from such sire such son the world may hope. "Yet old Report, I know not what its weight (for on such antique tale no man relies), saith that the Mother, tane in tow the State, A second nuptial bed did not despise: Her orphan son to disinher'ited fate she doomed, declaring hers the dignities, not his, with seigniory o'er all the land, her spousal dowry by her sire's command. "Now Prince Afonso (who such style had tane in pious mem'ory of his Grandsire's name), seeing no part and portion in his reign all pilled and plundered by the Spouse and Dame. by dour and doughty Mars inflamed amain, privily plots his heritage to claim: He weighs the causes in his own conceit till firm Resolve its fit effect shall greet. "Of Guimara'ens the field already flow'd with floods of civil warfare's bloody tide, where she, who little of the Mother show'd, to her own bowels love and land denied. Fronting the child in fight the parent stood; nor saw her depth of sin that soul of pride against her God, against maternal love: Her sensual passion rose all pow'r above. "O magical Medea! O Progne dire! if your own babes in vengeance dared ye kill for alien crimes, and injuries of the sire, look ye, Teresa's deed was darker still. Foul greed of gain, incontinent desire, were the main causes of such bitter ill: Scylla her agèd sire for one did slay, for both Teresa did her son betray. "Right soon that noble Prince clear vict'ory won from his harsh Mother and her Fere indign; in briefest time the land obeyed the son, though first to fight him did the folk incline. But reft of reason and by rage undone he bound the Mother in the biting chain: Eftsoons avenged her griefs the hand of God: Such veneration is to parents ow'd. "Lo! the superb Castilian 'gins prepare his pow'r to 'venge Teresa's injuries, against the Lusian land in men so rare, whereon ne toil ne trouble heavy lies. Their breasts the cruel battle grandly dare, aid the good cause angelic Potencies; unrecking might unequal still they strive, nay, more, their dreadful foe to flight they drive! "Passeth no tedious time, before the great Prince a dure Siege in Guimaraens dree'd by passing pow'er, for to 'mend his state, came the fell en'emy, full of grief and greed: But when committed life to direful Fate, Egas, the faithful guardian, he was free'd, who had in any other way been lost, all unpreparèd 'gainst such 'whelming host. "But when the loyal Vassal well hath known how weak his Monarch's arm to front such fight, sans order wending to the Spanish fone, his Sovran's homage he doth pledge and plight. Straight from the horrid siege th' invader flown trusteth the word and honour of the Knight, Egas Moniz: But now the noble breast of the brave Youth disdaineth strange behest. "Already came the plighted time and tide, when the Castilian Don stood dight to see, before his pow'er the Prince bend low his pride, yielding the promisèd obediency. Egas who views his knightly word belied, while still Castile believes him true to be, Sweet life resolveth to the winds to throw, nor live with foulest taint of faithless vow. "He with his children and his wife departeth to keep his promise with a faith immense; unshod and strippèd, while their plight imparteth far more of pity than of vengeance: 'If, mighty Monarch! still thy spirit smarteth to wreak revenge on my rash confidence,' quoth he, 'Behold! I come with life to save my pledge, my knightly honour's word I gave.' "'I bring, thou seest here, lives innocent, of wife, of sinless children dight to die; if breasts of gen'erous mould and excellent accept such weaklings' woeful destiny. Thou seest these hands, this tongue inconsequent: hereon alone the fierce exper'iment try of torments, death, and doom that pass in full Sinis or e'en Perillus' brazen bull.' "As shrifted wight the hangman stands before, in life still draining bitter draught of death, lays throat on block, and of all hope forlore, expects the blighting blow with bated breath: So, in the Prince's presence angry sore, Egás stood firm to keep his plighted faith: When the King, marv'elling at such wondrous truth, feels anger melt and merge in Royal ruth. "Oh the great Portingall fidelity of Vassal self-devote to doom so dread! What did the Persian more for loyalty whose gallant hand his face and nostrils shred? When great Darius mourned so grievously that he a thousand times deep-sighing said, far he prefer'd his Zóp'yrus sound again, than lord of twenty Babylons to reign. "But Prince Afonso now prepared his band of happy Lusians proud to front the foes, those haughty Moors that held the glorious land yon side where clear delicious Tagus flows: Now on Ourique[8] field was pitched and plan'd the Royal 'Campment fierce and bellicose, facing the hostile host of Sarrasin though there so many, here so few there bin. "Confident, yet would he in naught confide, save in his God that holds of Heav'en the throne; so few baptizèd stood their King beside, there were an hundred Moors for every one: Judge any sober judgment, and decide 'twas deed of rashness or by brav'ery done to fall on forces whose exceeding might a cent'ury showèd to a single Knight. "Order five Moorish Kings the hostile host of whom Ismár, so called, command doth claim; all of long Warfare large experience boast, wherein may mortals win immortal fame: And gallant dames the Knights they love the most 'company, like that brave and beauteous Dame, who to beleaguered Troy such aidance gave with woman-troops that drained Thermòdon's wave. "The coolth serene, and early morning's pride, now paled the sparkling stars about the Pole, when Mary's Son appearing crucified in vision, strengthened King Afonso's soul. But he, adoring such appearance, cried, fired with a phrenzied faith beyond control: 'To th' Infidel, O Lord! to th' Infidel:[9] Not, Lord, to me who know Thy pow'er so well.' "Such gracious marvel in such manner sent 'flamèd the Lusians' spirits fierce and high, towards their nat'ural King, that excellent Prince, unto whom love-boon none could deny: Aligned to front the foeman prepotent, they shouted res'onant slogan to the sky, and fierce the 'larum rose, 'Real, real, for high Afonso, King of Portugal!'

"Accomplishèd his act of arms victorious, home to his Lusian realm Afonso[10] sped, to gain from Peace-tide triumphs great and glorious, as those he gained in wars and battles dread; when the sad chance, on History's page memorious, which can unsepulchre the sheeted dead, befell that ill-starr'd, miserable Dame who, foully slain, a thronèd Queen became. "Thou, only thou, pure Love, whose cruel might obligeth human hearts to weal and woe, thou, only thou, didst wreak such foul despight, as though she were some foul perfidious foe. Thy burning thirst, fierce Love, they say aright, may not be quencht by saddest tears that flow; Nay, more, thy sprite of harsh tyrannick mood would see thine altars bathed with human blood. "He placed thee, fair Ignèz! in soft retreat, culling the first-fruits of thy sweet young years, in that delicious Dream, that dear Deceit, whose long endurance Fortune hates and fears: Hard by Mondego's yearned-for meads thy seat, where linger, flowing still, those lovely tears, until each hill-born tree and shrub confest the name of Him deep writ within thy breast.[11] "There, in thy Prince awoke responsive-wise, dear thoughts of thee which soul-deep ever lay; which brought thy beauteous form before his eyes, whene'er those eyne of thine were far away; Night fled in falsest, sweetest phantasies, in fleeting, flying reveries sped the Day; and all, in fine, he saw or cared to see were memories of his love, his joys, his thee. "Of many a dainty dame and damosel The coveted nuptial couches he rejecteth; for naught can e'er, pure Love! thy care dispel, when one enchanting shape thy heart subjecteth. These whims of passion to despair compel the Sire, whose old man's wisdom aye respecteth, his subjects murmuring at his son's delay to bless the nation with a bridal day. "To wrench Ignèz from life he doth design, better his captured son from her to wrench; deeming that only blood of death indign the living lowe of such true Love can quench. What Fury willed it that the steel so fine, which from the mighty weight would never flinch of the dread Moorman, should be drawn in hate to work that hapless delicate Ladye's fate? "The horr'ible Hangmen hurried her before the King, now moved to spare her innocence; but still her cruel murther urged the more the People, swayed by fierce and false pretence. She with her pleadings pitiful and sore, that told her sorrows and her care immense for her Prince-spouse and babes, whom more to leave than her own death the mother's heart did grieve: "And heav'enwards to the clear and crystalline skies, raising her eyne with piteous tears bestainèd; her eyne, because her hands with cruel ties one of the wicked Ministers constrainèd: And gazing on her babes in wistful guise, whose pretty forms she loved with love unfeignèd, whose orphan'd lot the Mother filled with dread, until their cruel grandsire thus she said:— "'If the brute-creatures, which from natal day on cruel ways by Nature's will were bent; or feral birds whose only thought is prey, upon aërial rapine all intent; if men such salvage be'ings have seen display to little children loving sentiment, e'en as to Ninus' mother did befall, and to the twain who rear'd the Roman wall: "'O thou, who bear'st of man the gest and breast, (an it be manlike thus to draw the sword on a weak girl because her love imprest his heart, who took her heart and love in ward); respect for these her babes preserve, at least! since it may not her òbscure death retard: Moved be thy pitying soul for them and me, although my faultless fault unmoved thou see! "'And if thou know'est to deal in direful fight the doom of brand and blade to Moorish host, Know also thou to deal of life the light to one who ne'er deserved her life be lost; But an thou wouldst mine inno'cence thus requite, place me for aye on sad exilèd coast, in Scythian sleet, on seething Libyan shore, with life-long tears to linger evermore. "'Place me where beasts with fiercest rage abound,— Lyons and Tygers,—there, ah! let me find if in their hearts of flint be pity found, denied to me by heart of humankind. There with intrinsic love and will so fond for him whose love is death, there will I tend these tender pledges whom thou see'st; and so shall the sad mother cool her burning woe.' "Inclin'ed to pardon her the King benign, moved by this sad lament to melting mood; but the rude People and Fate's dure design (that willed it thus) refused the pardon sued: They draw their swords of steely temper fine, They who proclaim as just such deed of blood: Against a ladye, caitiff, felon wights! how showed ye here, brute beasts or noble Knights? "Thus on Polyxena, that beauteous maid, last solace of her mother's age and care, when doom'd to die by fierce Achilles' shade, the cruel Pyrrhus hasted brand to bare: But she (a patient lamb by death waylaid) with the calm glances which serene the air, casts on her mother, mad with grief, her eyes and silent waits that awesome sacrifice. "Thus dealt with fair Ignèz the murth'erous crew, in th' alabastrine neck that did sustain the charms whereby could Love the love subdue of him, who crown'd her after death his Queen; bathing their blades; the flow'ers of snowy hue, which often water'ed by her eyne had been, are blood-dyed; and they burn with blinding hate, reckless of tortures stor'd for them by Fate. "Well mightest shorn of rays, O Sun! appear to fiends like these on day so dark and dire; as when Thyestes ate the meats that were his seed, whom Atreus slew to spite their sire. And you, O hollow Valleys! doomed to hear her latest cry from stiffening lips expire— her Pedro's name,—did catch that mournful sound, whose echoes bore it far and far around! "E'en as Daisy sheen, that hath been shorn in time untimely, floret fresh and fair, and by untender hand of maiden torn to deck the chaplet for her wreathèd hair; gone is its odor and its colours mourn; So pale and faded lay that Ladye there; dried are the roses of her cheek, and fled the white live color, with her dear life dead. "Mondego's daughter-Nymphs the death obscure wept many a year, with wails of woe exceeding; and for long mem'ry changed to fountain pure the floods of grief their eyes were ever feeding: The name they gave it, which doth still endure, revived Ignèz, whose murthered love lies bleeding, see yon fresh fountain flowing 'mid the flowers, tears are its waters, and its name 'Amores!'[12] "Time ran not long, ere Pedro saw the day of vengeance dawn for wounds that ever bled; who, when he took in hand the kingly sway, eke took the murth'erers who his rage had fled: Them a most cruel Pedro did betray; for both, if human life the foemen dread, made concert savage and dure pact, unjust as Lepidus made with Anthony' and Augustus."

Come here! my confidential Secretary Of the complaints in which my days are rife, Paper,—whereon I gar my griefs o'erflow. Tell we, we twain, Unreasons which in life Deal me inexorable, contrary Destinies surd to prayer and tearful woe. Dash we some water-drops on muchel lowe, Fire we with outcries storm of rage so rare That shall be strange to mortal memory. Such misery tell we To God and Man, and eke, in fine, to air, Whereto so many times did I confide My tale and vainly told as I now tell; But e'en as error was my birthtide-lot, That this be one of many doubt I not. And as to hit the butt so far I fail E'en if I sinnèd her cease they to chide: Within mine only Refuge will I 'bide To speak and faultless sin with free intent. Sad he so scanty mercies must content!

Long I've unlearnt me that complaint of dole Brings cure of dolours; but a wight in pain To greet is forcèd an the grief be great. I will outgreet; but weak my voice and vain To express the sorrows which oppress my soul; For nor with greeting shall my dole abate. Who then shall grant me, to relieve my weight Of sorrow, flowing tears and infinite sighs Equal those miseries my Sprite o'erpower? But who at any hour, Can measure miseries with his tears or cries? I'll tell, in fine, the love for me design'd By wrath and woe and all their sovenance; For other dole hath qualities harder, sterner. Draw near and hear me each despairing Learner! And fly the many fed on Esperance Or wights who fancy Hope will prove her kind; For Love and Fortune willed, with single mind, To leave them hopeful, so they comprehend What measure of unweal in hand they hend.

When fro' man's primal grave, the mother's womb, New eyes on earth I oped, my hapless star To mar my Fortunes 'gan his will enforce; And freedom (Free-will given me) to debar: I learnt a thousand times it was my doom. To know the Better and to work the Worse: Then with conforming tormentize to curse My course of coming years, when cast I round A boyish eye-glance with a gentle zest, It was my Star's behest A Boy born blind should deal me life-long wound. Infantine tear-drops wellèd out the deep With vague enamoured longings, nameless pine: My wailing accents fro' my cradle-stound Already sounded me love-sighing sound. Thus age and destiny had like design: For when, peraunter, rocking me to sleep They sung me Love-songs wherein lovers weep, Attonce by Nature's will asleep I fell, So Melancholy witcht me with her spell!

My nurse some Feral was; Fate nilled approve By any Woman such a name be tane Who gave me breast; nor seemed it suitable. Thus was I suckled that my lips indrain E'en fro' my childhood venom-draught of Love, Whereof in later years I drained my fill, Till by long custom failed the draught to kill. Then an Ideal semblance struck my glance Of that fere Human deckt with charms in foyson, Sweet with the suavest poyson, Who nourisht me with paps of Esperance; Till later saw mine eyes the original, Which of my wildest, maddest appetite Makes sinful error sovran and superb. Meseems as human form it came disturb, But scintillating Spirit's divinest light. So graceful gait, such port imperial Were hers, unweal vainglory'd self to weal When in her sight, whose lively sheen and shade Exceeded aught and all things Nature made.

What new unkindly kind of human pain Had Love not only doled for me to dree But eke on me was wholly execute? Implacable harshness cooling fervency Of Love-Desire (thought's very might and main) Drave me far distant fro' my settled suit, Vext and self-shamed to sight its own pursuit. Hence sombre shades phantastick born and bred Of trifles promising rashest Esperance; While boons of happy chance Were likewise feignèd and enfigurèd. But her despisal wrought me such dismay That made my Fancy phrenesy-ward incline, Turning to disconcert the guiling lure. Here mine 'twas to divine, and hold for sure, That all was truest Truth I could divine; And straightway all I said in shame to unsay; To see whatso I saw in còntrayr way; In fine, just Reasons seek for jealousy Yet were the Unreasons eather far to see.

I know not how she knew that fared she stealing With Eyën-rays mine inner man which flew Her-ward with subtlest passage through the eyne Little by little all fro' me she drew, E'en as from rain-wet canopy, exhaling The subtle humours, sucks the hot sunshine. The pure transparent geste and mien, in fine, Wherefore inadequate were and lacking sense "Beauteous" and "Belle" were words withouten weight; The soft, compassionate Eye-glance that held the spirit in suspense: Such were the magick herbs the Heavens all-wise Drave me a draught to drain, and for long years To other Being my shape and form transmew'd; And this transforming with such joy I view'd That e'en my sorrows snared I with its snares; And, like the doomèd man, I veiled mine eyes To hide an evil crescive in such guise; Like one caressèd and on flattery fed Of Love, for whom his being was born and bred.

Then who mine absent Life hath power to paint Wi' discontent of all I bore in view; That Bide, so far from where she had her Bide, Speaking, which even what I spake unknew, Wending, withal unseeing where I went, And sighing weetless for what cause I sigh'd? Then, as those torments last endurance tried, That dreadful dolour which from Tartarus's waves Shot up on earth and racketh more than all, Wherefrom shall oft befall It turn to gentle yearning rage that raves? Then with repine-ful fury fever-high Wishing yet wishing not for Love's surceàse; Shifting to other side for vengeänce, Desires deprived of their esperance, What now could ever change such ills as these? Then the fond yearnings for the things gone by, Pure torment sweet in bitter faculty, Which from these fiery furies could distill Sweet tears of Love with pine the soul to thrill?

For what excuses lone with self I sought, When my suave Love forfended me to find Fault in the Thing belovèd and so lovèd? Such were the feignèd cures that forged my mind In fear of torments that for ever taught Life to support itself by snares approvèd. Thus through a goodly part of Life I rovèd, Wherein if ever joyed I aught content Short-lived, immodest, flaw-full, without heed, 'Twas nothing save the seed That bare me bitter tortures long unspent. This course continuous dooming to distress, These wandering steps that strayed o'er every road So wrought, they quencht for me the flamy thirst I suffered grow in Sprite, in Soul I nurst With Thoughts enamoured for my daily food, Whereby was fed my Nature's tenderness: And this by habit's long and asperous stress, Which might of mortals never mote resist, Was turned to pleasure-taste of being triste.

Thus fared I Life with other interchanging; I no, but Destiny showing fere unlove; Yet even thus for other ne'er I'd change. Me from my dear-loved patrial nide she drove Over the broad and boisterous Ocean ranging, Where Life so often saw her èxtreme range. Now tempting rages rare and missiles strange Of Mart, she willèd that my eyes should see And hands should touch, the bitter fruit he dight: That on this Shield they sight In painted semblance fire of enemy, Then ferforth driven, vagrant, peregrine, Seeing strange nations, customs, tongues, costumes; Various heavens, qualities different, Only to follow, passing-diligent Thee, giglet Fortune! whose fierce will consumes Man's age upbuilding aye before his eyne A Hope with semblance of the diamond's shine: But, when it falleth out of hand we know, 'Twas fragile glass that showed so glorious show.

Failed me the ruth of man, and I descried Friends to unfriendly changèd and contràyr, In my first peril; and I lackèd ground, Whelmed by the second, where my feet could fare; Air for my breathing was my lot denied, Time failed me, in fine, and failed me Life's dull round. What darkling secret, mystery profound This birth to Life, while Life is doomed withhold Whate'er the world contain for Life to use! Yet never Life to lose Though 'twas already lost times manifold! In brief my Fortune could no horror make, Ne certain danger ne ancipitous case (Injustice dealt by men, whom wild-confused Misrule, that rights of olden days abused, O'er neighbour-men upraised to power and place!) I bore not, lashèd to the sturdy stake, Of my long suffering, which my heart would break With importuning persecuting harms Dasht to a thousand bits by forceful arms.

Number I not so numerous ills as He Who, 'scaped the wuthering wind and furious flood, In happy harbour tells his travel-tale; Yet now, e'en now, my Fortune's wavering mood To so much misery obligeth me That e'en to pace one forward pace I quail: No more shirk I what evils may assail; No more to falsing welfare I pretend; For human cunning naught can gar me gain. In fine on sovran Strain Of Providence divine I now depend: This thought, this prospect 'tis at times I greet My sole consoler for dead hopes and fears. But human weakness when its eyne alight Upon the things that fleet, and can but sight The sadding Memories of the long-past years; What bread such times I break, what drink I drain, Are bitter tear-floods I can ne'er refrain, Save by upbuilding castles based on air, Phantastick painture fair and false as fair.

For an it possible were that Time and Tide Could bend them backward and, like Memory, view The faded footprints of Life's earlier day; And, web of olden story weaving new, In sweetest error could my footsteps guide 'Mid bloom of flowers where wont my youth to stray; Then would the memories of the long sad way Deal me a larger store of Life-content: Viewing fair converse and glad company, Where this and other key She had for opening hearts to new intent;— The fields, the frequent stroll, the lovely show, The view, the snow, the rose, the formosure, The soft and gracious mien so gravely gay, The singular friendship casting clean away All villein longings, earthly and impure, As one whose Other I can never see;— Ah, vain, vain memories! whither lead ye me With this weak heart that still must toil and tire To tame (as tame it should) your vain Desire?

No more, Canzon! no more: for I could prate Sans compt a thousand years; and if befall Blame to thine over-large and long-drawn strain We ne'er shall see (assure who blames) contain An Ocean's water packt in vase so small, Nor sing I delicate lines in softest tone For gust of praise; my song to man makes known Pure Truth wherewith mine own Experience teems; Would God they were the stuff that builds our dreams!

Sweet lucent waters of Mondego-stream, Of my Remembrance restful jouïssance, Where far-fet, lingering, traitorous Esperance Long whiles misled me in a blinding Dream: Fro' you I part, yea, still I'll ne'er misdeem That long-drawn Memories which your charms enhance Forbid me changing and, in every chance, E'en as I farther speed I nearer seem. Well may my Fortunes hale this instrument Of Soul o'er new strange regions wide and side, Offered to winds and watery element: But hence my Spirit, by you 'companied, Borne on the nimble wings that Reverie lent, Flies home and bathes her, Waters! in your tide.