IV.

And let it carry me adown the west!"

But Love, who, prostrated,

Lay at Grief's foot, . . his lifted eyes possessed
Of her full image, . . answered in her stead:
"Now nay, now nay! she shall not give away
What is my wealth, for any Cloud that flieth.
Where Grief makes moan,

Love claims his own!

And therefore do I lie here night and day,
And eke my life out with the breath she sigheth.”

LIFE AND LOVE.

I.

FAST this Life of mine was dying,

Blind already and calm as death; Snowflakes on her bosom lying, Scarcely heaving with the breath.

II.

Love came by, and, having known her
In a dream of fabled lands,
Gently stooped, and laid upon her
Mystic chrism of holy hands;

III.

Drew his smile across her folded
Eyelids, as the swallow dips,...
Breathed as finely as the cold did,
Through the locking of her lips.

IV.

So, when Life looked upward, being Warmed and breathed on from above, What sight could she have for seeing,

Evermore... but only LOVE?

INCLUSIONS.

I.

OH, wilt thou have my hand, Dear, to lie along in

thine?

As a little stone in a running stream, it seems to lie and pine!

Now drop the poor pale hand, Dear, unfit to plight with thine.

II.

Oh, wilt thou have my cheek, Dear, drawn closer to thine own?

My cheek is white, my cheek is worn, by many a tear run down.

Now leave a little space, Dear,.. lest it should wet thine own.

III.

Oh, must thou have my soul, Dear, commingled with thy soul?—

Red

grows the cheek, and warm the hand,.. the part is in the whole!..

Nor hands nor cheeks keep separate, when soul is joined to soul.

INSUFFICIENCY.

I.

THERE is no one beside thee, and no one above

thee;

Thou standest alone, as the nightingale sings! Yet my words that would praise thee, are impo

tent things,

For none can express thee, though all should approve thee!

I love thee so, Dear, that I only can love thee.

II.

Say, what can I do for thee?.. weary

thee?

thee.. grieve

Lean on thy shoulder... new burdens to add?.. Weep my tears over thee.. making thee sad? Oh, hold me not-love me not! let me retrieve

thee!

I love thee so, Dear, that I only can leave thee.

SONG OF THE ROSE.

ATTRIBUTED TO SAPPHO.

IF Zeus chose us a King of the flowers in his mirth, He would call to the rose, and would royally

crown it;

For the rose, ho, the rose! is the grace of the earth,

Is the light of the plants that are growing upon it! For the rose, ho, the rose! is the eye of the flowers,

Is the blush of the meadows that feel themselves

fair,

Is the lightning of beauty, that strikes through the bowers

On pale lovers that sit in the glow unaware. Ho, the rose breathes of love! ho, the rose lifts the

cup

To the red lips of Cypris invoked for a guest! Ho, the rose having curled its sweet leaves for the world

Takes delight in the motion its petals keep up, As they laugh to the Wind as it laughs from the

west.

From Achilles Tatius.