Dear is Butheina-ah! more dear "Dear," came the answer, quick as thought, "Dear. . and yet always to be bought." So JAMÍL ceased. But still Life's page Shows diverse unto YOUTH and AGE: And-be the song of ghouls or gods- TO A MISSAL TO A MISSAL OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY MISSAL of the Gothic age, Missal with the blazoned page, Whence, O Missal, hither come, From what dim scriptorium? Whose the name that wrought thee thus, Bending, through the waning light, O'er thy vellum scraped and white; Weaving 'twixt thy rubric lines Sprays and leaves and quaint designs; Ah! a wondering brotherhood, Glad when his deft hand would paint Strife of Sathanas and Saint, Or in secret coign entwist Jest of cloister humourist. Well the worker earned his wage, Not as ours the books of old- Then a book was still a Book, In that growth of day by day, Something that one still perceives A REVOLUTIONARY RELIC A REVOLUTIONARY RELIC LD it is, and worn and battered, OLD As I lift it from the stall; And the leaves are frayed and tattered, And the pendent sides are shattered, Pierced and blackened by a ball. 'Tis the tale of grief and gladness And a perfume round it hovers, For a folded corner covers, As I read I marvel whether, In some pleasant old château, Once they read this book together, In the scented summer weather, With the shining Loire below? Nooked-secluded from espial, Did Love slip and snare them so, While the hours danced round the dial To the sound of flute and viol, In that pleasant old château? Did it happen that no single Word of mouth could either speak? Did the brown and gold hair mingle, Did the shamed skin thrill and tingle To the shock of cheek and cheek? Did they feel with that first flushing Of "Savignac" and "Lucile"? Did he drop on knee before her— Plead his pleasure and his pain? Did she turn with sight swift-dimming, And the quivering lip we know, With the full, slow eyelid brimming, With the languorous pupil swimming, Like the love of Mirabeau ? |