Puslapio vaizdai
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“TU NE QUAESIERIS.”

(VILLANELLE.)

EEK not, O Maid, to know

(Alas! unblest the trying !) When thou and I must go.

SEE

No lore of stars can show.
What shall be, vainly prying,
Seek not, O Maid, to know.

Will Jove long years bestow -
Or is 't with this one dying,
That thou and I must go;

Now,—when the great winds blow, And waves the reef are plying?.. Seek not, O Maid, to know.

Rather let clear wine flow,
On no vain hope relying ;
When thou and I must go

Lies dark ;-then be it so.
Now,-now, churl Time is flying ;
Seek not, O Maid, to know
When thou and I must go.

1877.

THE PRODIGALS.

(BALLADE : IRREGULAR.)

66

“ PRI

RINCES !-and you, most valorous,

Nobles and Barons of all degrees ! Hearken awhile to the prayer of us,

Beggars that come from the over-seas !

Nothing we ask or of gold or fees; Harry us not with the hounds we pray ;

Lo--for the surcote's hem we seize,Give us ah! give us—but Yesterday !".

“Dames most delicate, amorous !

Damosels blithe as the belted bees ! Hearken awhile to the prayer of us,

Beggars that come from the over-seas !

Nothing we ask of the things that please ; Weary are we, and worn, and gray;

Lo,-for we clutch and we clasp your knees,Give us ah! give us—but Yesterday !”

“ Damosels-Dames, be piteous !"

(But the dames rode fast by the roadway trees.) “Hear us, O Knights magnanimous !”

(But the knights pricked on in their panoplies.) Nothing they gat or of hope or ease, But only to beat on the breast and say:

“Life we drank to the dregs and lees; Give us—ah! give us—but Yesterday !”

ENVOY.

YOUTH, take heed to the prayer of these ! Many there be by the dusty way,–

Many that cry to the rocks and seas “Give us—ah! give us—but Yesterday !"

1876.

ON A FAN THAT BELONGED TO THE

MARQUISE DE POMPADOUR.

(BALLADE.)

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HICKEN-SKIN, delicate, white,

Painted by Carlo Vanloo, Loves in a riot of light,

Roses and vaporous blue ;

Hark to the dainty frou-frou! Picture above, if you can,

Eyes that could melt as the dew, This was the Pompadour's fan !

See how they rise at the sight,

Thronging the Eil de Beuf through, Courtiers as butterflies bright,

Beauties that Fragonard drew,

Talon-rouge, falbala, queue,
Cardinal, Duke,mto a man,

Eager to sigh or to sue,-
This was the Pompadour's fan !

Ah, but things more than polite

Hung on this toy, voyez-vous !

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