And how your pictures must descend To that prim saint by Haste-thee-Luke! She speaks 190 195 200 To-morrow, if a harp-string, say, Your gondola-let Zorzi wreathe A mesh of water-weeds about Its prow, as if he unaware 210 Sleeping safe on the bosom of the plain, 5 Cared-for till cock-crow: Look out if yonder be not day again Rimming the rock-row! That's the appropriate country; there, men's thought, Rarer, intenser, 1Ο Had struck some quay or bridge-foot stair! Self-gathered for an outbreak, as it ought, That I may throw a paper out There's Zanze's vigilant taper; safe are Chafes in the censer. Sleep, crop and herd! sleep, darkling When he had gathered all books had to Grant I have mastered learning's crabbed Oh, if we draw a circle premature, Heedless of far gain, 95 Did not he magnify the mind, show Lofty designs must close in like effects: 145 clear Just what it all meant? 105 That, has the world here should he need the next, Let the world mind him! This, throws himself on God, and unperplexed Seeking shall find him. Life, how and what is it? As here I lie 10 In this state-chamber, dying by degrees, So, with the throttling hands of death Hours and long hours in the dead night, Properly based Oun I ask "Do I live, am I dead?" Peace, peace seems all. Saint Praxed's ever was the church for peace; He settled Hoti's business-let it be! And so, about this tomb of mine. I 130 Gave us the doctrine of the enclitic De, Dead' from the waist down. Well, here's the platform, here's the proper place: Hail to your purlieus,2 All ye highfliers of the feathered race, 135 Swallows and curlews! Here's the top-peak; the multitude below Live, for they can, there: This man decided not to Live but KnowBury this man there? 140 Here- here's his place, where meteors shoot, clouds form, Lightnings are loosened, Stars come and go! Let joy break with The angels, and a sunbeam's sure to lurk: With those nine columns round me, two and two, And Moses with the tables . . . but I know Ye mark me not! What do they whisper thee, The odd one at my feet where Anselm stands: Peach-blossom marble all, the rare, the Child of my bowels, Anselm? Ah, ye hope ripe To revel down my villas while I gasp 65 Bricked o'er with beggar's mouldy travertine2 29 As fresh-poured red wine of a mighty pulse. Rosy and flawless: how I earned the prize! -What then? So much was saved if aught were missed! 35 My sons, ye would not be my death? Go dig The white-grape vineyard where the oil- Drop water gently till the surface sink, Bedded in store of rotten fig-leaves soft, 40 Sons, all have I bequeathed you, villas, 45 That brave Frascati villa with its bath, Like God the Father's globe on both his Ye worship in the Jesu Church so gay, Swift as a weaver's shuttle fleet our years: Shall ye contrast my frieze to come be- 55 The bas-relief in bronze ye promised me, Some tripod, thyrsus, with a vase or so, 1 basket woven of rushes. And this life too, popes, cardinals and I'll work then for your friend's friend, Even to put the pearl there! oh, so sweetMy face, my moon, my everybody's moon, Which everybody looks on and calls his, 30 And, I suppose, is looked on by in turn, While she looks-no one's: very dear, no less. You smile? why, there's my picture ready made, There's what we painters call our harmony! me 36 |