The mortal soul from out immortal hell,
Shall stand ay, surely then it fails at last
And perishes as I must; for O Thou,
Passionless bride, divine Tranquillity,
Yearn'd after by the wisest of the wise,
Who fail to find thee, being as thou art
Without one pleasure and without one pain,
Howbeit I know thou surely must be mine
Or soon or late, yet out of season, thus
I woo thee roughly, for thou carest not

How roughly men may woo thee so they winThus-thus: the soul flies out and dies in the air.'

With that he drove the knife into his side: She heard him raging, heard him fall; ran in, Beat breast, tore hair, cried out upon herself As having fail'd in duty to him, shriek'd

That she but meant to win him back, fell on

him,

Clasp'd, kiss'd him, wail'd: he answer'd, Care not thou!

Thy duty? What is duty? Fare thee well!'

ΙΟΙ

THE PRINCESS

A MEDLEY

THE PRINCESS

A MEDLEY

PROLOGUE

SIR Walter Vivian all a summer's day
Gave his broad lawns until the set of sun
Up to the people: thither flock'd at noon
His tenants, wife and child, and thither half
The neighbouring borough with their Institute
Of which he was the patron. I was there
From college, visiting the son, the son
A Walter too, with others of our set,
Five others we were seven at Vivian-place.

And me that morning Walter show'd the house,

Greek, set with busts: from vases in the hall Flowers of all heavens, and lovelier than their

names,

Grew side by side; and on the pavement lay Carved stones of the Abbey-ruin in the park, Huge Ammonites, and the first bones of Time; And on the tables every clime and age