O, thy bright eyes must answer now,
When Reason, with a scornful brow,
Is mocking at my overthrow!
O, thy sweet tongue must plead for me,
And tell why I have chosen thee!

Stern Reason is to judgment come,
Arrayed in all her forms of gloom:
Wilt thou, my advocate, be dumb?
No, radiant angel, speak and say
Why I did cast the world away;

Why I have presevered to shun
The common paths that others run,
And on a strange road journeyed on,
Heedless alike of wealth and power,
Of Glory's wreath and Pleasure's flower.

These once, indeed, seemed Beings Divine;
And they, perchance, heard vows of mine,
And saw my offerings on their shrine;
But careless gifts are seldom prized,
And mine were worthily despised.

So, with a ready hea...

An Ass in The Lion's skin arrayed
Made everybody fear.
And this was queer,
Because he was himself afraid.
Yet everywhere he strayed
The people ran like deer.

Ah, ah! He is betrayed:
No lion has that long and hairy ears.

Old Martin spied the tip; and country folk
Who are not in the secret of the joke,
With open mouths and eyes
Stare at old Martin's prize -
A Lion led to mill, with neck in yoke.

(From the French of Emile Verhaeren)



He who walks through the meadows of Champagne
At noon in Fall, when leaves like gold appear,
Sees it draw near
Like some great mountain set upon the plain,
From radiant dawn until the close of day,
Nearer it grows
To him who goes
Across the country.    When tall towers lay
Their shadowy pall
Upon his way,
He enters, where
The solid stone is hollowed deep by all
Its centuries of beauty and of prayer.

Ancient French temple! thou whose hundred kings
Watch over thee, emblazoned on thy walls,
Tell me, within thy memory-hallowed halls
What chant of triumph, or what war-song rings?
Thou hast known Clovis and his Frankish train,
Whose mighty hand Saint Remy's hand did keep
And in thy spac...

("Vous, sire, écoutez-moi.")

[LE ROI S'AMUSE, Act I.]


M. ST. VALLIER (an aged nobleman, from whom King Francis I. decoyed his daughter, the famous beauty, Diana of Poitiers).

A king should listen when his subjects speak:
'Tis true your mandate led me to the block,
Where pardon came upon me, like a dream;
I blessed you then, unconscious as I was
That a king's mercy, sharper far than death,
To save a father doomed his child to shame;
Yes, without pity for the noble race
Of Poitiers, spotless for a thousand years,
You, Francis of Valois, without one spark
Of love or pity, honor or remorse,
Did on that night (thy couch her virtue's tomb),
With cold embraces, foully bring to scorn
My helpless daughter, Dian of Poitiers.
To save...

By vain affections unenthralled,
Though resolute when duty called
To meet the world's broad eye,
Pure as the holiest cloistered nun
That ever feared the tempting sun,
Did Fermor live and die.
This Tablet, hallowed by her name,
One heart-relieving tear may claim;
But if the pensive gloom
Of fond regret be still thy choice,
Exalt thy spirit, hear the voice
Of Jesus from her tomb!

"I Am The Way, The Truth, And The Life"

Fair is our lot, O goodly is our heritage!
(Humble ye, my people, and be fearful in your mirth!)
For the Lord our God Most High
He hath made the deep as dry,
He hath smote for us a pathway to the ends of all the Earth!

Yea, though we sinned, and our rulers went from righteousness,
Deep in all dishonour though we stained our garments' hem.
Oh be ye not dismayed,
Though we stumbled and we strayed,
We were led by evil counsellors, the Lord shall deal with them!

Hold ye the Faith, the Faith our Fathers sealed us;
Whoring not with visions, overwise and overstale.
Except ye pay the Lord
Single heart and single sword,
Of your children in their bondage shall He ask them treble-tale!

Keep ye the Law, be swift in all obedience,
Clear the land of evil, ...

See through yon cloud that rolls in wrath,
One little star benignant peep,
To light along their trackless path
The wanderers of the stormy deep.

And thus, oh Hope! thy lovely form
In sorrow's gloomy night shall be
The sun that looks through cloud and storm
Upon a dark and moonless sea.

When heaven is all serene and fair,
Full many a brighter gem we meet;
'Tis when the tempest hovers there,
Thy beam is most divinely sweet.

The rainbow, when the sun declines,
Like faithless friend will disappear;
Thy light, dear star! more brightly shines
When all is wail and weeping here.

And though Aurora's stealing beam
May wake a morning of delight,
'Tis only thy consoling beam
Will smile amid affliction's night.

Woman's faith, and woman's trust
Write the characters in the dust;
Stamp them on the running stream,
Print them on the moon's pale beam,
And each evanescent letter
Shall be clearer, firmer, better,
And more permanent, I ween,
Than the thing those letters mean.

I have strain'd the spider's thread
'Gainst the promise of a maid;
I have weigh'd a grain of sand
'Gainst her plight of heart and hand;
I told my true love of the token,
How her faith proved light, and her word was broken:
Again her word and truth she plight,
And I believed them again ere night.

There is no summit you may not attain,
    No purpose which you may not yet achieve,
    If you will wait serenely and believe.
Each seeming loss is but a step to'rd gain.

Between the mountain-tops lie vale and plain;
    Let nothing make you question, doubt, or grieve;
    Give only good, and good alone receive;
And as you welcome joy, so welcome pain.

That which you most desire awaits your word;
    Throw wide the door and bid it enter in.
Speak, and the strong vibrations shall be stirred;
    Speak, and above earth's loud, unmeaning din
Your silent declarations shall be heard.
    All things are possible to God's own kin.

Air--Viva la.


I.

When, on Ramillies' bloody field,
The baffled French were forced to yield,
The victor Saxon backward reeled
Before the charge of Clare's Dragoons.
The Flags we conquered in that fray
Look lone in Ypres' choir, they say,
We'll win them company to-day,
Or bravely die like Clare's Dragoons.


CHORUS.

Viva la, for Ireland's wrong!
Viva la, for Ireland's right!
Viva la, in battle throng,
For a Spanish steed, and sabre bright!


II.

The brave old lord died near the fight,
But, for each drop he lost that night,
A Saxon cavalier shall bite
The dust before Lord Clare's Dragoons.
For never, when our spurs were set,
And never, when our sabres met,
...

I see a land of desperate droughts and floods:
I see a land where need keeps spreading round,
And all but giants perish in the stress:
I see a land where more, and more, and more
The demons, Earth and Wealth, grow bloat and strong.

I see a land that lies a helpless prey
To wealthy cliques and gamblers and their slaves,
The huckster politicians: a poor land
That less and less can make her heart-wish law.

Yea, but I see a land where some few brave
Raise clear eyes to the Struggle that must come,
Reaching firm hands to draw the doubters in,
Preaching the gospel: "Drill and drill and drill!"
Yea, but I see a land where best of all
The hope of victory burns strong and bright!

She must be honest, both in thought and deed,
Of generous impulse, and above all greed;
Not seeking praise, or place, or power, or pelf,
But life's best blessings for her higher self,
Which means the best for all.
    She must have faith,
To make good friends of Trouble, Pain, and Death,
And understand their message.
    She should be
As redolent with tender sympathy
As is a rose with fragrance.
    Cheerfulness
Should be her mantle, even though her dress
May be of Sorrow's weaving.
    On her face
A loyal nature leaves its seal of grace,
And chastity is in her atmosphere.
Not that chill chastity which seems austere
(Like untrod snow-peaks, lovely to behold
Till once attained - then barren, loveless, cold);
But the white flame that feeds up...

Where shall we bury our shame?
    Where, in what desolate place,
Hide the last wreck of a name
    Broken and stained by disgrace?
Death may dissever the chain,
    Oppression will cease when we're gone;
But the dishonor, the stain,
    Die as we may, will live on.

Was it for this we sent out
    Liberty's cry from our shore?
Was it for this that her shout
    Thrilled to the world's very core?
Thus to live cowards and slaves!--
    Oh, ye free hearts that lie dead,
Do you not, even in your graves,
    Shudder, as o'er you we tread?

I am poor and old and blind;
The sun burns me, and the wind
    Blows through the city gate
And covers me with dust
From the wheels of the august
    Justinian the Great.

It was for him I chased
The Persians o'er wild and waste,
    As General of the East;
Night after night I lay
In their camps of yesterday;
    Their forage was my feast.

For him, with sails of red,
And torches at mast-head,
    Piloting the great fleet,
I swept the Afric coasts
And scattered the Vandal hosts,
    Like dust in a windy street.

For him I won again
The Ausonian realm and reign,
    Rome and Parthenope;
And all the land was mine
From the summits of Apennine
    To the shores of either sea.

For him, in my feeble age,

Take heart again. Joy may be lost awhile.
It is not always Spring.
And even now from some far Summer Isle
Hither the birds may wing.

Go, speed the stars of Thought
On to their shining goals;--
The sower scatters broad his seed;
The wheat thou strew'st be souls.

DEAR, near and true—no truer Time himself
Can prove you, tho’ he make you evermore
Dearer and nearer, as the rapid of life
Shoots to the fall—take this, and pray that he,
Who wrote it, honoring your sweet faith in him,
May trust himself; and spite of praise and scorn,
As one who feels the immeasurable world,
Attain the wise indifference of the wise;
And after Autumn past—if left to pass
His autumn into seeming-leafless days—
Draw toward the long frost and longest night,
Wearing his wisdom lightly, like the fruit
Which in our winter woodland looks a flower.*

Kindness soothes the bitter anguish,
Kindness wipes the falling tear,
Kindness cheers us when we languish,
Kindness makes a friend more dear.

Kindness turns a pain to pleasure,
Kindness softens every woe,
Kindness is the greatest treasure,
That frail man enjoys below.

Then how can I, so frail a being,
Hope thy kindness to repay,
My great weakness plainly seeing,
Seeing plainer every day.

Oh, I never can repay thee!
That I but too plainly see;
But I trust thou wilt forgive me,
For the love I bear to thee.