her dread.

Painting nor sculpture now can lull to rest
My soul that turns to His great love on high,
Whose arms to clasp us on the cross were spread.

LXVI.

TO GIORGIO VASARI.

_VANITY OF VANITIES._

_Le favole del mondo._

The fables of the world have filched away
The time I had for thinking upon God;
His grace lies buried 'neath oblivion's sod,
Whence springs an evil crop of sins alway.

What makes another wise, leads me astray,
Slow to discern the bad path I have trod:
Hope fades; but still desire ascends that God
May free me from self-love, my sure decay.

Shorten half-way my road to heaven from earth!
Dear Lord, I cannot even half-way rise,
Unless Thou help me on this pilgrimage.

Teach me to hate the world so little worth,
And all the lovely things I clasp and prize;
That endless life, ere death, may be my wage.

LXVII.

_A PRAYER FOR FAITH._

_Non e piu bassa._

There's not on earth a thing more vile and base
Than, lacking Thee, I feel myself to be:
For pardon prays my own debility,
Yearning in vain to lift me to Thy face.

Stretch to me, Lord, that chain whose links enlace
All heavenly gifts and all felicity--
Faith, whereunto I strive perpetually,
Yet cannot find (my fault) her perfect grace.

That gift of gifts, the rarer 'tis, the more
I count it great; more great, because to earth
Without it neither peace nor joy is given.

If Thou Thy blood so lovingly didst pour,
Let not that bounty fail or suffer dearth,
Withholding Faith that opes the doors of heaven.

LXVIII.

TO MONSIGNOR LODOVICO BECCADELLI.

_URBINO._

_Per croce e grazia._

God's grace, the cross, our troubles multiplied,
Will make us meet in heaven, full well I know:
Yet ere we yield our breath, on earth below
Why need a little solace be denied?

Though seas and mountains and rough ways divide
Our feet asunder, neither frost nor snow
Can make the soul her ancient love forgo;
Nor chains nor bonds the wings of thought have tied.

Borne by these wings with thee I dwell for aye,
And weep, and of my dead Urbino talk,
Who, were he living, now perchance would be,

For so 'twas planned, thy guest as well as I:
Warned by his death another way I walk
To meet him where he waits to live with me.

LXIX.

WAITING FOR DEATH.

_Di morte certo._