Quick-is it finished?

VII.

The colour's too grim!

Why not soft like the phial's, enticing and dim?
Let it brighten her drink, let her turn it and stir,
And try it and taste, ere she fix and prefer!

VIII.

What a drop! She's not little, no minion like me—
That's why she ensnared him: this never will free
The soul from those strong, great eyes,-say, "no!"
To that pulse's magnificent come-and-go.

IX.

For only last night, as they whispered, I brought
My own eyes to bear on her so, that I thought

Could I keep them one half minute fixed, she would fall,
Shrivelled; she fell not; yet this does it all!

X.

Not that I bid you spare her the pain!
Let death be felt and the proof remain ;
Brand, burn up, bite into its grace—
He is sure to remember her dying face!

XI.

Is it done? Take my mask off! Nay, be not morose,
It kills her, and this prevents seeing it close:
The delicate droplet, my whole fortune's fee-
If it hurts her, beside, can it ever hurt me?

XII.

Now, take all my jewels, gorge gold to your fill,
You may kiss me, old man, on my mouth if you will!
But brush this dust off me, lest horror it brings
Ere I know it-next moment I dance at the King's!

THE CONFESSIONAL.

[SPAIN.]

I.

It is a lie their Priests, their Pope,

...

Their Saints, their . . . all they fear or hope
Are lies, and lies-there! thro' my door
And ceiling, there! and walls and floor,
There, lies, they lie, shall still be hurled,
Till spite of them I reach the world!

11.

You think Priests just and holy men!
Before they put me in this den,

I was a human creature too,

With flesh and blood like one of you,
A girl that laughed in beauty's pride
Like lilies in your world outside.

III.

I had a lover-shame avaunt!

This poor wrenched body, grim and gaunt,

Was kissed all over till it burned,

By lips the truest, love e'er turned

His heart's own tint: one night they kissed My soul out in a burning mist.

IV.

So, next day when the accustomed train
Of things grew round my sense again,
"That is a sin," I said—and slow
With downcast eyes to church I go,
And pass to the confession-chair,
And tell the old mild father there.

V.

But when I falter Beltran's name,

"Ha?" quoth the father;

"much I blame

"The sin; yet wherefore idly grieve?

66

Despair not, strenuously retrieve !

"Nay, I will turn this love of thine "To lawful love, almost divine.

VI.

"For he is young, and led astray,

"This Beltran, and he schemes, men say, "To change the laws of church and state; "So, thine shall be an angel's fate,

"Who, ere the thunder breaks, should roll "Its cloud away and save his soul.

VII.

"For, when he lies upon thy breast,
"Thou mayst demand and be possessed

"Of all his plans, and next day steal
"To me, and all those plans reveal,
"That I and every priest, to purge
"His soul, may fast and use the scourge."

VIII.

That father's beard was long and white,
With love and truth his brow seemed bright;
I went back, all on fire with joy,

And, that same evening, bade the boy,
Tell me, as lovers should, heart-free,
Something to prove his love of me.

IX.

He told me what he would not tell
For hope of Heaven or fear of Hell;
And I lay listening in such pride,
And, soon as he had left my side,
Tripped to the church by morning-light
To save his soul in his despite.

X.

I told the father all his schemes,

Who were his comrades, what their dreams;
"And now make haste," I said, 66 to pray
"The one spot from his soul away:

66 To-night he comes, but not the same
"Will look!" At night he never came.

XI.

Nor next night on the after-morn,
I went forth with a strength new-born :

The church was empty; something drew
My steps into the street; I knew

It led me to the market-place-
Where, lo, on high-the father's face!

XII.

That horrible black scaffold drest

The stapled block . . God sink the rest!
That head strapped back, that blinding vest,
Those knotted hands and naked breast-
Till near one busy hangman pressed-
And on the neck these arms caressed. . . .

XIII.

No part in aught they hope or fear!

No Heaven with them, no Hell, and here,
No Earth, not so much space as pens
My body in their worst of dens

But shall bear God and Man my cry-
Lies-lies, again—and still, they lie!

THE FLIGHT OF THE DUCHESS.

YOU'RE my friend :

I.

I was the man the Duke spoke to;

I helped the Duchess to cast off his yoke, too;

So, here's the tale from beginning to end,

My friend!