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Good with bad, and overbear
All the pride of us that live,
All the high estate,
As ye long since overbore,
As in old time long before,
Many a strong man and a great,
All that were.
But do thou, sweet, otherwise,
Having heed of all our prayer,
Taking note of all our sighs ;
We beseech thee by thy light,
By thy bow, and thy sweet eyes,
And the kingdom of the night,
Be thou favorable and fair;
By thine arrows and thy might
And Orion overthrown;
By the maiden thy delight,
By the indissoluble zone
And the sacred hair.

Shall the waves take pity on thee

Or the south-wind offer thee love ? Wilt thou take the night for thy day Or the darkness for light on thy way

Till thou say in thine heart, Ěnough? Behold, thou art over fair, thou art

over wise : The sweetness of spring in thine hair,

and the light in thine eyes. The light of the spring in thine eyes,

and the sound in thine ears ; Yet thine heart shall wax heavy with

sighs and thine eyelids with tears. Wilt thou cover thine hair with gold ;

and with silver thy feet? Hast thou taken the purple to fold thee,

and made thy mouth sweet? Behold, when thy face is made bare, he

that loved thee shall hate ; Thy face shall be no more fair at the

fall of thy fate. For thy life shall fall as a leaf and be

shed as the rain ; And the veil of thine head shall be grief;

and the crown shall be pain.

FATE

THE DEATH OF MELEAGER Meleager. Let your hands meet

Round the weight of my head, Lift ye my feet

As the feet of the dead; For the flesh of my body is molten, the

limbs of it molten as lead.

Not as with sundering of the earth

Nor as with cleaving of the sea Nor fierce foreshadowings of a birth

Nor flying dreams of death to be, Nor loosening of a large world's girth And quickening of the body of night,

And sound of thunder in men's ears And fire of lightning in men's sight,

Fate, mother of desires and fears,

Bore unto men the law of tears ; But sudden, an unfathered flame,

And broken out of night, she shone, She, without body, without name,

In days forgotten and foregone; And heaven rang round her as she came Like smitten cymbals, and lay bare ; Clouds and great stars, thunders and

snows, The blue sad fields and folds of air, The life that breathes, the life that

grows, All wind, all fire. that burns or blows, Even all these knew her: for she is great; The daughter of doom, the mother of

death, The sister of sorrow ; a lifelong weight

That no man's finger lighteneth, Nor any god can lighten fate ; A landmark seen across the way Where one race treads as the other

trod; An evil sceptre, an evil stay,

Wrought for a staff, wrought for a rod, The bitter jealousy of God.

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For death is deep as the sea,

And fate as the waves thereof,

Melenger. Unto each man his fate ;

Unto each as he saith

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Meleager. Would the winds blow me

back Or the waves hurl me home? Ah, to touch in the track

Where the pine learnt to roam Cold girdles and crowns of the sea-gods,

cool blossoms of water and foam !

Le navire
Est à l'eau ;
Entends rire
Ce gros flot
Que fait luire
Et bruire
Le vieux sire
Aquilo.

Chorus. The gods may release

That they made fast; Thy soul shall have ease

In thy limbs at the last ; But what shall they give thee for life,

sweet life that is overpast ?

Meleager. Not the life of men's veins,

Not of flesh that conceives; But the grace that remains,

The fair beauty that cleaves To the life of the rains in the grasses, the

Dans l'espace
Du grand air
Le vent passe
Comme un fer;
Sifile et sonne,
Tombe et tonne;
Prend et donne
Á la mer.

life of the dew's on the leaves.

1 Probably no excuse is needed for including here some examples of Swinburne's French verse, both for its own light and exquisite beauty, anıl because it so characteristically represents him. One of his chief distinctions is that of being per. haps the only Englishman who ever really understood and appreciated Freuch poetry.

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Between the sunset and the sea
My love laid hands and lips on me;
Of sweet came sour, of day came night,
Of long desire came brief delight :
Ah love, and what thing came of thee
Between the sea-downs and the sea ?

Between the sea-mark and the sea
Joy grew to grief, grief grew to me;
Love turned to tears, and tears to fire,
And dead delight to new desire ;
Love's talk, love's touch there seemed to

be
Between the sea-sand and the sea.

Vicisti, Galilæe I HAVE lived long enough, having seen

one thing, that love hath an end: Goddess and maiden and queen, be near

me now and befriend. Thou art more than the day or the more row,

the seasons that laugh or that weep; For these give joy and sorrow ; but thou,

Proserpina, sleep. Sweet is the treading of wine, and sweet

the feet of the dove ; But a goodlier gift is thine than foami

of the grapes or love. Yea, is not even Apollo, with hair and

harpstring of gold, A bitter God to follow, a beautiful God

to behold? I am sick of singing: the bays bu deep

and chafe: I am fain

Between the sundown and the sea
Love watched one hour of love with me;
Then down the all-golden water-ways
His feet flew after yesterday's;
I saw them come and saw them flee
Between the sea-foam and the sea.

I say

To rest a little from praise and grievous But love grows bitter with treason, and pleasure and pain.

laurel outlives not May. For the Gods we know not of, who give Sleep, shall we sleep after all? for the us our daily breath,

world is not sweet in the end ; We know they are cruel as love or life, For the old faiths loosen and fall, the and lovely as death.

new years ruin and rend. O Gods dethroned and deceased, cast Fate is a sea without shore, and the soul forth, wiped out in a day!

is a rock that abides ; From your wrath is the world released, But her ears are vexed with the roar and redeemed from your chains, men

her face with the foam of the tides. say.

O lips that the live blood faints in, the New Gods are crowned in the city, their leavings of racks and rods !

flowers have broken your rods ; O ghastly glories of saints, dead limbs of They are merciful, clothed with pity, gibbeted Gods !

the young compassionate Gods. Though all men abase them before you But for me their new device is barren, in spirit, and all knees beul, the days are bare ;

I kneel not, neither adore you, but Things long past over suffice, and men

standing, look to the end. forgotten that were.

All delicate days and pleasant, all spirits Time and the Gods are at strife: ye

and sorrows are cast dwell in the midst thereof,

Far out with the foam of the present that Draining a little life from the barren sweeps to the surf of the past : breasts of love.

Where beyond the extreme sea-wall, and I say to you, cease, take rest; yea,

between the remote sea-gates, to you all, be at peace,

Waste water washes, and tall ships Till the bitter milk of her breast and the

founder, and deep death waits : barren bosom shall cease.

Where, mighty with deepening sides, Wilt thou yet take all, Galilean ? but

clad about with the seas as with these thou shalt not take,

wings, The laurel, the palms and the pæan, And impelled of invisible tides, and ful

the breast of the nymphs in the filled of unspeakable things,
brake;

White-eyed and poisonous-finned, sharkBreasts more soft than a dove's, that

toothed and serpentine-curled, tremble with tenderer breath ; Rolls, under the whitening wind of the And all the wings of the Loves, and all

future, the wave of the world. the joy before death ;

The depths stand naked in sunder behind All the feet of the hours that sound as

it, the storms flee a way; a single lyre,

In the hollow before it the thunder is Dropped and deep in the flowers, with taken and snared as a prey : strings that flicker like fire.

In its sides is the north-wind bound; and More than these wilt thou give, things

its salt is of all men's tears ; fairer than all these things ? With light of ruin, and sound of changes, Nay, for a little we live, and life hath

and pulse of years : mutable wings.

With travail of day after day, and with A little while and we die ; shall life not

trouble of hour upon hour ; thrive as it may ?

And bitter as blood is the spray; and the For no man under the sky lives twice,

crests are as faugs that devour : outliving his day.

And its vapor and storm of its steam as And grief is a grievous thing, and a man the sighing of spirits to be; hath enough of his tears :

And its noise as the noise in a dream ; Why should he labor, and bring fresh and its lepth as the roots of the sea : grief to blacken his year's ?

And the height of its heads as the height Thou hast conquered, 0 pale Galilean ;

of the utmost stars of the air : the world has grown gray from And the ends of the eartlı at the might thy breath :

thereof tremble, and time is made We have drunken of things Lethean,

bare. and fed on the fulness of death.

bridle the deep sea with reins, Laurel is green for a season, and love is will ye chasten the high sea with sweet for a day;

rods?

Will ye

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