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May it be so!" he sighed.

the sun drops, behold!"'

"There,

And, indeed, whilst he spoke, all the purple and gold

In the West had turned ashen, save one fading strip

Of light that yet gleam'd from the dark nether lip

Of a long reef of clouds; and o'er sullen ravines

And ridges the raw damps were hanging white screens

Of melancholy mist.

"Nunc dimittis!" she said. "O God of the living, whilst yet 'mid the

dead

And the dying we stand here alive, and thy days

་་་

Returning, admit space for prayer and for

praise.

In both these confirm us.

The helmsman, Eugène, Needs the compass to steer by. Pray always. Again

We two part: each to work out Heaven's will you, I trust,

In the world's ample witness; and I, as I

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In secret and silence: you, love, fame

await;

Me, sorrow and sickness. We meet at one

gate

When all's over. and wide,

The ways they are many

,,』,,

And seldom are two ways the same. Side by side

May we stand at the same little door when all's done!

The ways they are many, the end it is one. He that knocketh shall enter; who asks shall obtain ;

And who seeketh he findeth.

Eugène !'' quale vet

1

Remember,

WILLIAM MORRIS. 1834-1899

THE EVE OF CRÉCY

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Gold on her head, and gold on her feet, And gold where the hems of her kirtle meet, And a golden girdle round my sweet;

!

Ah! quelle est belle La Marguerite.

Margaret's maids are fair to see,
Freshly dress'd and pleasantly;

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Margaret's hair falls down to her knee;—

Ah! quelle est belle La Marguerite.

If I were rich I would kiss her feet,

I would kiss the place where the gold hems

meet,

And the golden girdle round my sweet

Ah! quelle est belle La Marguerite.

Ah me! I have never touched her hand; When the arrière-ban goes through the land Six basnets under my pennon stand;

Ah! quelle est belle La Marguerite.

And many an one grins under his hood:

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Sir Lambert de Bois, with all his men good,

Has neither food nor firewood ;??

ます

Ah! quelle est belle La Marguerite. /

If I were rich I would kiss her feet,
And the golden girdle of my sweet,
And thereabouts where the gold hems meet;
Ah! quelle est belle La Marguerite.

Yet even now it is good to think, While my few poor varlets grumble and drinki

In my desolate hall where the fires sink,Ah! quelle est belle La Marguerite.

Of Margaret sitting glorious there, 190
In glory of gold and glory of hair,
And glory of glorious face most fair ;-

Ah! quelle est belle La Marguerite.

Likewise to-night I make good cheer,.
Because this battle draweth near :
For what have I to lose or fear?

Ah! quelle est belle La Marguerite.

For, look you, my horse is good to prance A right fair measure in this war-dance, Before the eyes of Philip of France';Ah! quelle est belle La Marguerite.

And sometime it may hap, perdie,
While my new towers stand up three and
three,

And my hall gets painted fair to see-
Ah! quelle est belle La Marguerite.

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That folks may say Times change by the rood,

For Lambert, banneret of the wood,
Has heaps of food and firewood;—

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Ah! quelle est belle La Marguerite.

And wonderful eyes, too, under the hood Of a damsel of right noble blood: "

St. Ives, for Lambert of the wood!-
Ah! quelle est belle La Marguerite.

LORD DE TABLEY. 1835-1895

AT THE COUNCIL

I stood to-day in that great square of fountains,

And heard the cannon of St. Angelo,

In many echoes towards the Alban moun

tains

Boom over Tiber's flow.

I saw the nations throng thy burnished

spaces,

Cathedral of the Universe and Rome; One purpose held those earnest upturned faces

Under the golden dome.

Tumult of light rolled on that human ocean;

Climax of sound replied in organ-storms, And shook those altar Titans into motion Bernini's windy forms.

They seemed to toss their giant arms appealing

Where Angelo with mighty hand has O striven

To paint his angels on an earthly ceiling, Grander than those of heaven.

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Mid-air among the columns seemed to hover

Incense in clouds above the living tide. Whence are these come who tread thy courts, Jehovah,

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In raiment deep and dyed?

We are gathered thine elect among all

races;

As at God's birth the Magian kings, afar Thy whisper found us in our desert places, Where we beheld Thy star.

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