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to me,

That length of convent-wall across the (I know his name, no matter)—so much way

less! Holds the trees safer, huddled more in- Well, less is more, Lucrezia: I am judged. side;

There burns a truer light of God in them, The last monk leaves the garden; days in their vexed beating stuffed and stoppeddecrease,

up brain,

80 And autumn grows, autumn in every- | Heart, or whate'er else, than goes on to thing.

45 prompt Eh? the whole seems to fall into a shape This low-pulsed forthright craftsman's As if I saw alike my work and self

hand of mine. And all that I was born to be and do, Their works drop groundward, but themA twilight-piece. Love, we are in God's selves, I know, hand.

Reach many a time a heaven that's shut How strange now looks the life he makes us lead;

50 Enter and take their place there sure So free we seem, so fettered fast we are! enough,

85 I feel he laid the fetter: let it lie!

Though they come back and cannot tell This chamber for example-turn your

the world. head

My works are nearer heaven, but I sit All that's behind us! You don't under- here. stand

The sudden blood of these men! at a Nor care to understand about my art, 55 wordBut you can hear at least when people Praise them, it boils, or blame them, it speak:

boils too. And that cartoon, the second from the I, painting from myself, and to myself, 90 door

Know what I do, am unmoved by men's -It is the thing, Love! so such thing blame should be

Or their praise either. Somebody remarks Behold Madonna !-I am bold to say. Morello's outline there is wrongly traced, I can do with my pencil what I know, 60 His hue mistaken; what of that? or else, What I see, what at bottom of my heart Rightly traced and well ordered; what of I wish for, if I ever wish so deep

that?

95 Do easily, too--when I say, perfectly, Speak as they please, what does the mounI do not boast, perhaps: yourself are judge, tain care? Who listened to the Legate's talk last Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his week,

65

grasp, And just as much they used to say in Or what's a heaven for? All is silverFrance.

gray, At any rate, 'tis easy, all of it!

Placid and perfect with my art: the No sketches first, no studies, that's long worse! past:

I know both what I want and what might I do what many dream of all their lives, gain, -Dream? strive to do, and agonize to And yet how profitless to know, to sigh do,

70 “Had I been two, another and myself, And fail in doing. I could count twenty Our head would have o'erlooked the such

world!” No doubt. On twice your fingers, and not leave this Yonder's a work now, of that famous youth town,

The Urbinate who died five years ago. 105 Who strive-you don't know how the ('Tis copied, George Vasari sent it me.) others strive

Well, I can fancy how he did it all, To paint a little thing like that you smeared Pouring his soul,' with kings and popes Carelessly passing with your robes afloat, Yet do much less, so much less, Someone Reaching, that heaven might so replenish says,

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Above and through his art-for it gives I dared not, do you know, leave home all way;

day,

145 That arm is wrongly put—and there for fear of chancing on the Paris lords. again

The best is when they pass and look aside; A fault to pardon in the drawing's lines, But they speak sometimes; I must bear it Its body, so to speak: its soul is right, all. He means right—that, a child may under- | Well may they speak! That Francis, that stand.

first time, Still, what an arm! and I could alter it: 115 And that long festal year at FontaineBut all the play, the insight and the bleau!

150 stretch

I surely then could sometimes leave the Out of me, out of me! And wherefore ground, out?

Put on the glory, Rafael's daily wear, Had you enjoined them on me, given me In that humane great monarch's golden soul,

look, We might have risen to Rafael, I and you! One finger in his beard or twisted curl Nay, Love, you did give all I asked, I Over his mouth's good mark that made think

the smile,

155 More than I merit, yes, by many times. One arm about my shoulder, round my But had you-oh, with the same perfect neck, brow,

The jingle of his gold chain in my ear, And perfect eyes, and more than perfect I painting proudly with his breath on me, mouth,

All his court round him, seeing with his And the low voice my soul hears, as a eyes, bird

Such frank French eyes, and such a fire of The fowler's pipe, and follows to the souls

160 125 Profuse, my hand kept plying by those Had you, with these the same, but brought

,

hearts, a mind!

And, best of all, this, this, this face beSome women do so. Had the mouth there yond, urged

This in the background, waiting on my “God and the glory! never care for gain. work, The present by the future, what is that? To crown the issue with a last reward! 164 Live for fame, side by side with Agnolo! 130 A good time, was it not, my kingly days? Rafael is waiting: up to God, all three!” And had you not grown restless . I might have done it for you. So it seems:

but I knowPerhaps not. All is as God overrules. 'Tis done and past; 'twas right, my inBeside, incentives come from the soul's stinct said; self;

Too live the life grew, golden and not gray, The rest avail not. Why do I need And I'm the weak-eyed bat no sun should you?

135 tempt What wife had Rafael, or has Agnolo? Out of his grange whose four walls make In this world, who can do a thing, will his world.

170 not;

How could it end in any other way? And who would do it, cannot, I perceive: You called me, and I came home to your

I Yet the will's somewhat somewhat, too, heart. the power

The triumph was—to reach and stay And thus we half-men struggle. At the there; since end,

140

I reached it ere the triumph, what is God, I conclude, compensates, punishes.

lost? 'Tis safer for me, if the award be strict, Let my hands frame your face in your That I am something underrated here,

hair's gold,

175 Poor this long while, despised, to speak You beautiful Lucrezia that are mine! the truth.

“Rafael did this, Andrea painted that;

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The Roman's is the better when you pray, We built to be so gay with. God is just. But still the other's Virgin was his wife”

"- King Francis may forgive me; oft at Men will excuse me. I am glad to judge nights, Both pictures in your presence; clearer When I look up from painting, eyes tired grows

out,

215 My better fortune, I resolve to think. The walls become illumined, brick from For, do you know, Lucrezia, as God lives, brick Said one day Agnolo, his very self, Distinct, instead of mortar, fierce bright To Rafael I have known it all these gold, years

185 That gold of his I did cement them with! (When the young man was flaming out his Let us but love each other. Must you thoughts

go? Upon a palace-wall for Rome to see, That Cousin here again? he waits outside? Too lifted up in heart because of it) Must see you-you, and not with me? “Friend, there's a certain sorry little Those loans? scrub

More gaming debts to pay? you smiled Goes up and down our Florence, none for that? cares how,

190 Well, let smiles buy me! have you more to Who, were he set to plan and execute

spend? As you are, pricked on by your popes and While hand and eye and something of a kings,

heart Would bring the sweat into that brow of Are left me, work's my ware, and what's yours!”

it worth?

225 To Rafael's !--And indeed the arm is I'll pay my fancy. Only let me sit wrong

The gray remainder of the evening out, I hardly dare . . . yet, only you to Idle, you call it, and muse perfectly

, see,

195 How I could paint, were I but back in Give the chalk here-quick, thus the line

France, should go!

One picture, just one more—the Virgin's Ay, but the soul! he's Rafael! rub it out! face,

230 Still, all I care for, if he spoke the truth Not yours this time! I want you at my (What he? why, who but Michel Agnolo? side Do you forget already words like To hear them—that is, Michel Agnolothose?),

Judge all I do and tell you of its worth. If really there was such a chance, so lost, Will you? To-morrow, satisfy your friend. Is, whether you're—not grateful—but I take the subjects for his corridor,

235 more pleased.

Finish the portrait out of hand-there, Well, let me think so. And you smile in- there, deed!

And throw him in another thing or two This hour has been an hour! Another | If he demurs; the whole should prove smile?

enough If you would sit thus by me every night To

pay

for this same Cousin's freak. BeI should work better, do you compre- side, hend?

206 What's better and what's all I care about, I mean that I should earn more, give you Get you

the thirteen scudi for the ruff! 241 more.

Love, does that please you? Ah, but what See, it is settled dusk now; there's a star;

does he, Morello's gone, the watch-lights show the The Cousin! what does he to please you wall,

more? The cue-owls speak the name them by.

I am grown peaceful as old age to-night. Come from the window, Love,-come in, I regret little, I would change still less. 245 at last,

Since there my past life lies, why alter it? Inside the melancholy little house

The very wrong to Francis!—it is true

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I took his coin, was tempted and com- I was ever a fighter, so—one fight more, plied,

The best and the last! And built this house and sinned, and all I would hate that death bandaged my is said.

249
eyes, and forbore,

15
My father and my mother died of want. And bade me creep past.
Well, had I riches of my own? you see No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like
How one gets rich! Let each one bear his

my peers lot.

The heroes of old, They were born poor, lived poor, and poor

poor Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad they died:

life's arrears And I have labored somewhat in my time Of pain, darkness and cold. And not been paid profusely. Some good For sudden the worst turns the best to

255

the brave, Paint my two hundred pictures—let him The black minute's at end, try!

And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices No doubt, there's something strikes a balance. Yes,

Shall dwindle, shall blend, You loved me quite enough, it seems to- Shall change, shall become first a peace night.

out of pain,

25 This must suffice me here. What would Then a light, then thy breast,

O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee In heaven, perhaps, new chances, one more again, chance

260 And with God be the rest!
Four great walls in the New Jerusalem,
Meted on each side by the angel's reed,
For Leonard, Rafael, Agnolo and me
To cover—the three first without a wife,

ABT VOGLER
While I have mine! So-still they over-
come

265 AFTER HE HAS BEEN EXTEMPORIZING Because there's still Lucrezia,-as I UPON THE MUSICAL INSTRUMENT choose.

OF HIS INVENTION Again the Cousin's whistle! Go, my Love.

Would that the structure brave, the man

ifold music I build, Bidding my organ obey, calling its keys

to their work, PROSPICE

Claiming each slave of the sound, at a

touch, as when Solomon willed Fear death? to feel the fog in my throat,

Armies of angels that soar, legions of The mist in my face,

demons that lurk, When the snows begin, and the blasts de Man, brute, reptile, fly,-alien of end and note

of aim,

5 I am nearing the place,

Adverse, each from the other heavenThe power of the night, the press of the

high, hell-deep removed, storm,

5

Should rush into sight at once as he named The post of the foe;

the ineffable Name, Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a

And pile him a palace straight, to visible form,

pleasure the princess he loved! Yet the strong man must go: For the journey is done and the summit Would it might tarry like his, the beautiful attained,

building of mine, And the barriers fall,

This which my keys in a crowd pressed Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon and importuned to raise! be gained,

Ah, one and all, how they helped, would The reward of it all.

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Zealous to hasten the work, heighten or else the wonderful Dead who have their master his praise!

passed through the body and gone, And one would bury his brow with a blind But were back once more to breathe in plunge down to hell,

an old world worth their new: Burrow awhile and build, broad on What never had been, was now; what was, the roots of things,

as it shall be anon; Then up again swim into sight, having And what is, shall I say, matched based me my palace well, 15

both? for I was made perfect too. 40 Founded it, fearless of flame, flat on the nether springs.

All through my keys that gave their sounds

to a wish of my soul, And another would mount and march,

All through my soul that praised as its like the excellent minion he was,

wish flowed visibly forth, Ay, another and yet another, one crowd

All through music and me! For think, but with many a crest,

had I painted the whole, Raising my rampired' walls of gold as

Why, there it had stood, to see, nor transparent as glass,

the process so wonder-worth: Eager to do and die, yield each his place Had I written the same, made verseto the rest:

still effect proceeds from cause, 45 For higher still and higher (as a runner

Ye know why the forms are fair, ye

hear how the tale is told; tips with fire, When a great illumination surprises a

It is all triumphant art, but art in obefestal night

dience to laws, Outlining round and round Rome's dome Painter and poet are proud in the

artist-list enrolled : from space to spire) Up, the pinnacled glory reached, and

But here is the finger of God, a flash of the pride of my soul was in sight.

the will that can,

Existent behind all laws, that made In sight? Not half! for it seemed, it was

them and, lo, they are!

50 certain, to match man's birth, 25

And I know not if, save in this, such gift Nature in turn conceived, obeying an

be allowed to man impulse as I;

That out of three sounds he frame, not And the emulous heaven yearned down,

a fourth sound, but a star. made effort to reach the earth,

Consider it well: each tone of our scale in As the earth had done her best, in my itself is naught: passion, to scale the sky:

It is everywhere in the world-loud, Novel splendors burst forth, grew familiar

soft, and all is said: and dwelt with mine,

Give it to me to use! I mix it with two in Not a point nor peak but found and

my thought:

55 fixed its wandering star; 30

And there! Ye have heard and seen: Meteor-moons, balls of blaze: and they

consider and bow the head! did not pale nor pine, For earth had attained to heaven, there | Well, it is gone at last, the palace of music was no more near nor far.

I reared;

Gone! and the good tears start, the Nay more; for there wanted not who praises that come too slow;

walked in the glare and glow, For one is assured at first, one scarce can Presences plain in the place; or, fresh say that he feared, from the Protoplast,

That he even gave it a thought, the Furnished for ages to come, when a kindlier gone thing was to go.

60 wind should blow,

35

Never to be again! But many more of Lured now to begin and live, in a house

the kind to their liking at last;

As good, nay, better perchance: is this 1 furnished with ramparts.

your comfort to me?

a

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