No More Learning

THY
? Canzon:
OfIn-r . .
cense The glowing rays
IV
That from the low sun dart, have Turned gold each tower and every towering mast;
The saffron flame, that flaming nothing harms Hides Khadeeth's pearl and all the sapphire might Of burnished waves, before her gates collected: The cloak of graciousness, that round thee gloweth, Doth hide the thing thou art, as here befalleth.
v
All things worth praise
That unto Khadeeth's mart have
From far been brought through perils over-passed, All santal, myrrh, and spikenard that disarms The pard's swift anger; these would weigh but light 'Gainst thy delights, my Khadeeth! Whence
protected
By naught save her great grace that in him showeth, My song goes forth and on her mercy calleth.
VI
O censer of the thought that golden gloweth, Be bright before her when the evening falleth.
vn
Fragrant be thou as a new field one moweth, O song of mine that "Hers" her mercy calleth.
72
? CANZONE: OF ANGELS
HEthat is Lord of all the realms of light
Hath unto me from His
Granted such vision as hath wrought my joy.
Moving my spirit past the last defence
That shieldeth mortal things from mightier sight, Where freedom of the soul knows no alloy,
I saw what forms the lordly powers employ; Three splendours, saw I, of high holiness, From clarity to clarity ascending
Through all the roofless, tacit courts extending In aether which such subtle light doth bless
As ne'er the candles of the stars hath wooed; Know ye herefrom of their similitude.
II
Withdrawn within the cavern of his wings,
Grave with the joy of thoughts beneficent,
And finely wrought and durable and clear
If so his eyes showed forth the mind's content, So sate the first to whom remembrance clings, Tissued like bat's wings did his wings appear, Not of that shadowy colouring and drear,
But as thin shells, pale saffron, luminous;
Alone, unlonely, whose calm glances shed Friend's love to strangers though no word were
said,
Pensive his godly state he keepeth thus.
Not with his surfaces his power endeth,
But is as flame that from the gem extendeth.
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magnificence
? Canzone: HI Of Angels
My second marvel stood not in such ease,
But he, the cloudy pinioned, winged him on Then from my sight as now from memory,
The courier aquiline, so swiftly gone !
The third most glorious of these majesties
Give aid, O sapphires of th' eternal see, And by your light illume pure verity.
That azure feldspar hight the microcline, Or, on its wing, the Menelaus weareth
Such subtlety of shimmering as beareth This marvel onward through the crystalline, A splendid calyx that about her gloweth, Smiting the sunlight on whose ray she goeth.
IV
The diver at Sorrento from beneath
The vitreous indigo, who swiftly riseth,
By will and not by action as it seemeth,
Moves not more smoothly, and no thought sur-
miseth
How she takes motion from the lustrous sheath
Which, as the trace behind the swimmer, gleameth Yet presseth back the aether where it streameth. To her whom it adorns this sheath imparteth
The living motion from the light surrounding; And thus my nobler parts, to grief's confounding, Impart into my heart a peace which starteth
From one round whom a graciousness is cast Which clingeth in the air where she hath past.
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? V. TORNATA
Canzon, to her whose spirit seems in sooth
Akin unto the feldspar, since it is
So clear and subtle and azure, I send thee, saying: That since I looked upon such potencies
And glories as are here inscribed in truth,
New boldness hath o'erthrown my long delaying, And that thy words my new-born powers obeying Voices at last to voice my heart's long mood
Are come to greet her in their amplitude.
Canzone: Of Angels
NOTE. This form is not Provengal, but that of Dante's "
matchless Voi che intendendo z/ terzo ciel movete. " IL
Italian.
SONNET: CHI E QUESTA?
WHOis she coming, that the roses bend
Their shameless heads to do her honour ?
passing
Who is she coming with a light upon her
Not born of suns that with the day's end end ?
Say, is it Love who hath chosen the nobler part? Say, is it Love, that was divinity,
Who hath left his godhead that his home might be The shameless rose of her unclouded heart?
If this be Love, where hath he won such grace?