- ‘Als writith he of swevenis,Men han beforne they wake in bliss, 0 Whanne that hir friendes thinke hem bound
In crimped shroude farre under grounde;
And how a litling child mote be
A saint er its nativitie,
Gif that the modre (God her blesse!)
Kepen in solitarinesse,
And kissen devoute the holy croce.
Of Goddes love, and Sathan’s force, -
He writith; and thinges many mo:
Of swiche thinges I may not show. Bot I must tellen verilie
Somdeln of Sainte Cicilie,
And chieflie what he auctorethe
Of Sainte Markis life and dethe:’
At length her constant eyelids come
Upon the fervent martyrdom;
Then lastly to his holy shrine,
Exalt amid the tapers’ shine
At Venice, -
Dawlish Fair
Over the hill and over the dale,
And over the bourne to Dawlish,
Where gingerbread wives have a scanty sale,
And gingerbread nuts are smallish.
O Solitude! If I Must With Thee Dwell
O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep, —
Nature’s observatory — whence the dell,
Its flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell,
May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
‘Mongst boughs pavillion’d, where the deer’s swift leap
Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.
But though I’ll gladly trace these scenes with thee,
Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images of thoughts refin’d,
Is my soul’s pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of humankind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.
Song of Four Faeries - Fire, Air, Earth, and Water -
Salamander, Zephyr, Dusketha and Breama
SALAMANDER Happy, happy glowing fire!
ZEPHYR Fragrant air! delicious light!
DUSKETHA Let me to my glooms retire!
BREAMA I to greenweed rivers bright!
SALAMANDER Happy, happy glowing fire!
Dazzling bowers of soft retire,
Ever let my nourish’d wing,
Like a bat’s, still wandering.
Faintless fan your fiery spaces,
Spirit sole in deadly places.
In unhaunted roar and blaze,
Open eyes that never daze,
Let me see the myriad shapes
Of men, and beasts, and fish, and apes,
Portray’d in many a fiery den,
And wrought by spumy bitumen.
On the deep intenser roof,
Arched every way aloof,
Let me breathe upon their skies,
And anger their live tapestries;
Free from cold, and every care,
Of chilly rain, and shivering air.
ZEPHYR Spirit of Fire - away! away!
Or your very roundelay
Will sear my plumage newly budded
From its quilled sheath, all studded
With the selfsame dews that fell
On the May-grown Asphodel.
Spirit of Fire - away! away!
BREAMA Spirit of Fire - away! away!
Zephyr, blue-eyed Faery, turn,
And see my cool sedge-bury’d urn,
Where it rests its mossy brim
‘Mid water-mint and cresses dim;
And the flowers, in sweet troubles,
Lift their eyes above the bubbles,
Like our Queen, when she would please
To sleep, and Oberon will tease.
Love me, blue-eyed Faery, true!
Soothly I am sick for you.
ZEPHYR Gentle Breama! by the first
Violet young nature nurst,
I will bathe myself with thee,
So you sometimes follow me
To my home, far, far, in west,
Beyond the nimble-wheeled quest
Of the golden-browed sun:
