le and with spice indeed the Vassal
Receives her King whom dark desires constrain.
Rejoice, rejoice!--But far from flutes and dances
The cloistered Soul lies frozen in her trances.

II

PERILS

Ah! Since from subtle silk of agony
Our veils of lamentable flesh are spun,
Since Time in spoiling violates, and we
In that strait Pass of Pangs may be undone,
Since the mere natural flower and withering
Of these our bodies terribly distil
Strange poisons, since an alien Lust may fling
On any autumn day some torch to fill
Our pale Pavilion of dreaming lavenders
With frenzy, till it is a Tower of Flame
Wherein the soul shrieks burning, since the myrrhs
And music of our beauty are mixed with shame
Inextricable,--some drug of poppies give
This bitter ecstasy whereby we live!

III

THE PEACE TO BE

Quell this consuming fever, quickly give
Some drug of poppies white!--But Peace will come?
O ashen savourless alternative,
Quietude of the blind and deaf and dumb
That all swift motions must alike assuage,--
When we are exiled from youth's golden hosts
To pace the calm cold terraces of age,
With unvexed senses, being but houseled ghosts,
Wise, with the uncoloured wisdom of the souls
With whom great passions have no more to do,
Serene, since ours the dusty arles Death doles,
Oblivions dim of all there is to rue!--
Peace comes to hearts of whom proud Love has tired;
Beyond all danger dwell the undesired.

IV

STATUES

The great Greek lovers of gold and ivory things,
Austere and perfect things, albeit they wrought
Girl-shapes with driven raiment, conquering wings,
And smiling queens of Cnidos, turned and sought
A more inviolate beauty that should keep
Their secret dream. Their grave sweet geniuses
Of love and death, of rapture or of sleep,
Are delicately severed from all excess.--
Ah! suppliant, honey-white, the languor cleaves
About the dolorous weak body He,
The Dark Eros, with staunchless spear-thrust grieves;
Heavy the seal of that mortality.
No wounds disgrace the haughty acolytes
Of heavenly sorrows, of divine delights.

V

THE WEDDING-GARMENT

Thought it be blither than roses in thine eyes,
Shall I not rend this raiment of pangs and fears,
This Colchian cloth white flames ensorcelise,
This gaudy-veil distained with blood and tears?--
What praise? "_O marriage-beauty ga