IN THE BELFRY

WRITTEN UNDER RETHEL'S "DEATH, THE FRIEND"

OLL! Is it night, or daylight yet?

TOLL!

Somewhere the birds seem singing still,

Though surely now the sun has set.

Toll! But who tolls the Bell once more?
He must have climbed the parapet.
Did I not bar the belfry door?

Who can it be?-the Bernardine,
That wont to pray with me of yore?
No, for the monk was not so lean.

This must be He who, legend saith,
Comes sometimes with a kindlier mien
And tolls a knell.-This shape is Death!

Good-bye, old Bell! So let it be.
How strangely now I draw my breath!
What is this haze of light I see?...

IN MANUS TUas, Domine!

ARS VICTRIX

(IMITATED FROM THÉOPHILE GAUTIER

YES

ES; when the ways oppose-
When the hard means rebel,

Fairer the work out-grows,—
More potent far the spell.

O POET, then, forbear

The loosely sandalled verse,
Choose rather thou to wear
The buskin-strait and terse;

Leave to the tyro's hand

The limp and shapeless style,
See that thy form demand
The labour of the file.

SCULPTOR, do thou discard

The yielding clay,-consign
To Paros marble hard

The beauty of thy line ;

Enduring stays to us;

The Bust outlasts the throne,--

The Coin, Tiberius ;

Even the gods must go;

Only the lofty Rhyme

Not countless years o'erthrow,--Not long array of time.

Paint, chisel, then, or write;

But, that the work surpass, With the hard fashion fight,With the resisting mass.