140

Ballad of the Women of Paris 142

Ballad written for a Bridegroom 144

Ballad against the Enemies of France 146

The Dispute of the Heart and Body of Francois Villon 148

Epistle in form of a Ballad to his Friends 150

The Epitaph in form of a Ballad 152

From Victor Hugo 154

Nocturne 155

Theophile Gautier 157

Ode 158

In Obitom Theophili Poetae 160

Ad Catullum 161

Dedication, 1878 162

POEMS AND BALLADS

SECOND SERIES

VOL. III.

INSCRIBED

TO

RICHARD F. BURTON

IN REDEMPTION OF AN OLD PLEDGE AND IN RECOGNITION OF A FRIENDSHIP WHICH I
MUST ALWAYS COUNT AMONG THE HIGHEST HONOURS OF MY LIFE

THE LAST ORACLE

(A.D. 361)

[Greek:
eipate to basilei, chamai pese daidalos aula;
ouketi Phoibos echei kaluban, ou mantida daphnen,
ou pagan laleousan; apesbeto kai lalon hudor.]

Years have risen and fallen in darkness or in twilight,
Ages waxed and waned that knew not thee nor thine,
While the world sought light by night and sought not thy light,
Since the sad last pilgrim left thy dark mid shrine.
Dark the shrine and dumb the fount of song thence welling,
Save for words more sad than tears of blood, that said:
_Tell the king, on earth has fallen the glorious dwelling,_
_And the watersprings that spake are quenched and dead._
_Not a cell is left the God, no roof, no cover_
_In his hand the prophet laurel flowers no more._
And the great king's high sad heart, thy true last lover,
Felt thine answer pierce and cleave it to the core.
And he bowed down his hopeless head
In the drift of the wild world's tide,
And dying, _Thou hast conquered_, he said,
_Galilean_; he said it, and died.
And the world that was thine and was ours
When the Graces took hands with the Hours
Grew cold as a winter wave
In the wind from a wide-mouthed grave,
As a gulf wide open to swallow
The light that the world held dear.
O father of all of us, Paian, Ap