THE SONNET OF THE MOUNTAIN

(AFTER MELLIN DE SAINT GELLAIS)

WHEN from afar these mountain tops I view,

WHE

I do but mete mine own distress thereby : High is their head, and my desire is high; Firm is their foot, my faith is certain too.

E'en as the winds about their summits blue,
From me escapes betimes the wistful sigh;
And as from them the brooks and streamlets hie,
So from mine eyes the tears run down anew.

A thousand flocks upon them feed and stray;
As many loves within me see the day,
And all my heart for pasture ground divide.

No fruit have they, my lot as fruitless is;
And 'twixt us now nought diverse is but this-
In them the snows, in me the fires abide.

1886.

REGRETS

(AFTER JOACHIM DU BELLAY)

HAPPY the man, like wise Ulysses tried,
Or him of yore that gat the Fleece of Gold,
Who comes at last, from travels manifold,
Among his kith and kindred to abide!

When shall I see, from my small hamlet-side, Once more the blue and curling smoke unrolled? When the poor boundaries of my house beholdPoor, but to me as any province wide?

Ah, more than these imperious piles of Rome
Laugh the low portals of my boyhood's home!
More than their marble must its slate-roof be!

More than the Tiber's flood my Loire is still!
More than the Palatine my native hill,
And the soft air of Anjou than the sea!

1886.

ALAS!

REGRETS

(AFTER JOACHIM DU BELLAY)

LAS! where now doth scorn of fortune hide? And where the heart that still must conqueror be;

Where the strong hope of immortality,

And that fine flame to common souls denied?

Where is the joyance which, at eventide,

Through the brown night the silver moon could see,

With all the Nine, whenas, in fancy free,

I led them dance, some sacred stream beside?

Dame Fortune now is mistress of my soul,
And this my heart that I would fain control
Is grown the thrall of many a fear and sigh.

For after-time no more have I desire;
No more within I feel that ancient fire,
And the sweet Muses turn from me, and fly.

1886.

TO MONSIEUR DE LA MOTHE LE
VAYER, UPON THE DEATH
OF HIS SON

LE

(AFTER MOLIÈRE)

ET thy tears flow, LE VAYER, let them flow:

None of scant cause thy sorrowing can accuse, Since, losing that which thou for aye dost lose, E'en the most wise might find a ground for woe.

Vainly we strive with precepts to forgo
The drops of pity that are Pity's dues;
And Nature's self, indignant, doth refuse
To count for fortitude that heartless show.

No grief, alas! can now bring back again
The son too dear, by Death untimely ta'en;
Yet, not the less, his loss is hard to bear,

Graced as he was by all the world reveres,
Large heart, keen wit, a lofty soul and rare,—
-Surely these claim immitigable tears!

1886.

"ALBI, NE DOLEAS"

(HOR., I. 33)

LOVE mocks us all.

Then cast aside

These tuneful plaints, my Albius tried

For heartless Glycera, from thee

Fled to a younger lover. See, Low-browed Lycoris burns denied

For Cyrus; he-though goats shall bide
With wolves ere she in him confide-
Turns, with base suit, to Pholoë :-
Love mocks us all!

So Venus wills, and joys to guide 'Neath brazen yoke pairs ill-allied

In form and mind. So linked she me (Whom worthier wooed) to Myrtale, Fair, but less kind than Hadria's tide :Love mocks us all!

:

1887.