“O, love Louise, this is the key If ye take me by the hand?" And ever the great bell overhead FROM "THE EARTHLY PARADISE" THE SINGER'S PRELUDE OF Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing, I cannot ease the burden of your fears, Or make quick-coming death a little thing, Or bring again the pleasure of past years, Nor for my words shall ye forget your tears, Or hope again for aught that I can say, But rather, when aweary of your mirth ATALANTA'S VICTORY Through thick Arcadian woods a hunter went, Following the beasts up, on a fresh spring day; But since his horn-tipp'd bow but seldom bent, Now at the noontide nought had happ'd to slay, Within a vale he call'd his hounds away, Hearkening the echoes of his lone voice cling About the cliffs, and through the beech-trees ring. But when they ended, still awhile he stood, And but the sweet familiar thrush could hear, And all the day-long noises of the wood, And o'er the dry leaves of the vanish'd year His hounds' feet pattering as they drew Merry it was: about him sung the birds, The spring flowers bloom'd along the firm, dry road, The sleek-skinn'd mothers of the sharthorn'd herds Now for the barefoot milking - maidens low'd ; While from the freshness of his blue abode, Glad his death-bearing arrows to forget, The broad sun blaz'd, nor scatter'd plagues as yet. |