Triumph, triumph,
victorious
soul !
Marvell - Poems
SOUL.
Wer't not for price who*d value gold ?
And that's worth naught that can be sold.
PLEASURE.
Wilt thou all the glory have
That war or peace commend ?
Half the world shall be thy slave,
The other half thy friend.
SOUL.
What friends, if to myself untrue ?
What slaves, unless I captive you ?
PLEASURE.
Thou shalt know each hidden cause,
And see the future time,
Try what depth the centre draws,
And then to heaven climb.
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OF MARVELL. 113
SOUL.
None thither mounts by the degree
Of knowledge, but humility.
CHORUS.
Triumph, triumph, victorious soul !
The world has not one pleasure more :
The rest does lie beyond the pole,
And is thine everlasting store.
Digitized by VjOOQIC
114 THE POEMS
A DROP OF DEW.
(TRAjrtLATSD. )
See, how the orient ^ew.
Shed from the bosom of the mom^
Into the blowing roses,
(Yet careless of its mansion new,
For the clear region where 'twas bom,)
Round in itself incloses
And, in its little globe's extent,
Frames, as it can, its native element.
How it the purple flower does shgbt,
Scarce touching where it lies ;
But gazing back upon the skies,
Shines with a mournful light,
Like its own tear,
Because so long divided from the sphere.
Restless it rolls, and unsecure,
Trembling, lest it grow impure ;
Till the warm sun pities its pain,
And to the skies exhales it back a<;ain.
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OF MABYELL. 115
So the souly that drop, that raj,
Of the clear fountain of eternal day,
Could it within the human flower be seen,
Remembering still its former height.
Shuns the sweet leaves, and blossoms green,
And, recollecting its own light.
Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express
The greater heaven in a heaven less.
In how coy a figure wound.
Every way it turns away,
So the world excluding round,
Yet receiving in the day.
Dark beneath, but bright above.
Here disdaining, there in love.
