DEDICATION. HESE to His Memory—since he held them dear, Perchance as finding there uncon sciously Some image of himself-I dedicate, I dedicate, I consecrate with tears These Idylls. And indeed He seems to me Scarce other than my own ideal knight, 'Who reverenced his conscience as his king; Whose glory was, redressing human wrong; B Who spake no slander, no, nor listen'd to it; Who loved one only and who clave to her Her-over all whose realms to their last isle, Commingled with the gloom of imminent war, The shadow of His loss drew like eclipse, Darkening the world. We have lost him he is gone: We know him now: all narrow jealousies In that fierce light which beats upon a throne, And blackens every blot for where is he, |