(DANTE—INFERNO, CANTO I.)
"O mystic Lady; Thou in whom alone
Our human race surpasses all that stand
In Paradise the nearest round the throne!
So eagerly I wait for thy command
That to obey were slow though ready done."
How oft I read. How agonized the turning,
In those my earlier days of loss and pain,—
Of eyes to space and night as though by yearning—
Some wall might yield and I behold again
A certain angel, fled beyond discerning;
In vain I chafed and sought—alas, in vain,
From spurring though my heart's dark world returned
To Dante's page, those wearied thoughts of mine;
Again I read, again my longing burned.—
A voice melodious spake in every line,
But from sad pleasure sorrow fresh I learned:
Strange was the music of the Florentine.
LINES ON HEINE.
I saw a crowded circus once:
The fool was in the middle.
Loud laughed contemptuous Common-sense
At every frisk and riddle.
I see another circus now—
(The world a circus call I),—
But in the centre laughs the sane;
Round sit the sons of folly.
IMITATED FROM THE JAPANESE.
"……………………..
I have forgotten to forget."—Japanese Song.
Tr. by R.H. Stoddard.
The morning flies, the evening dies;
The heat of noon, the chills of night,
Are but the dull varieties
Of Phoebus' and of Phoebe's flight—
Are but the dull varieties
Of ruined night and ruined day;
They bring no pleasure to mine eyes,
For I have sent my soul away.
I am the man who cannot love,
Yet once my heart was bright as thine,
The suns that rove, the moons that move,
No longer make its chambers shine;
No more they light the spirit face
That lit my night and made my day;
No maiden feet with mine keep pace
For I have sent my soul away.