PHILOMELA. Alas for me! a dry desire To me, dim shapes of ancient crime Moan through the windy ways of time, "Wail! wail!" ÆGROTUS. This is the sick man's song,- A FLOWER SONG OF ANGIOLA DOWN where the garden grows, Spake to her mate the Rose After this manner :- All reds and whites are ours, Then to the flowers I spake, "Watch ye my Lady Gone to the leafy brake, Silent and shady; Lily, she knows; How I am dear to her, Look to it, Rose." Straightway the Blue-bell stooped, Paler for pride, Down where the Violet drooped, Shy, at her side :— "Sweetheart, save me and you, Therewith I laughed aloud, Have ye seen eyes Change through the blue in them,- Change till the mere Loving that grew in them Turned to a tear? "Flowers, ye are bright of hue, Delicate, sweet; Flowers, and the sight of you Lightens men's feet; Yea, but her worth to me, Flowerets, even, Sweetening the earth to me, "This, then, O Flowers, I sing; God, when He made ye, Made yet a fairer thing Making my Lady;— Fashioned her tenderly, Giving all weal to her ;Girdle ye slenderly, Go to her, kneel to her, "Saying, 'He sendeth us, He the most dutiful, Meetly he endeth us, Maiden most beautiful! Let us get rest of you, Sweet, in your breast ;Die, being prest of you. Die, being blest.'" A SONG OF ANGIOLA IN HEAVEN FLOWE "Vale, unica!" LOWERS,-that have died upon my Sweet, Lulled by the rhythmic dancing beat Of her young bosom under you,Now will I show you such a thing As never, through thick buds of Spring, Betwixt the daylight and the dew, The Bird whose being no man knows— The voice that waketh all night throughTells to the Rose. For lo, a garden-place I found, Well filled of leaves, and stilled of sound, Alone she walked, ah, well I wis, |