230 One picture, just one more-the Virgin's face,
Not yours this time! I want you at my side
To hear them—that is, Michel Agnolo—
Judge all I do and tell you of its worth.
Will you? To-morrow, satisfy your friend.
235 I take the subjects for his corridor,

Finish the portrait out of hand-there, there,
And throw him in another thing or two

If he demurs; the whole should prove enough To pay for this same Cousin's freak. Beside, 240 What's better and what's all I care about,

Get you the thirteen scudi for the ruff!

Love, does that please you? Ah, but what does he,

The Cousin! what does he to please you more?

I am grown peaceful as old age to-night. 245 I regret little, I would change still less. Since there my past life lies, why alter it? The very wrong to Francis!—it is true

I took his coin, was tempted and complied, And built this house and sinned, and all is said. 250 My father and my mother died of want. Well, had I riches of my own? you see

How one gets rich! Let each one bear his lot. They were born poor, lived poor, and poor they died:

And I have labored somewhat in my time

255 And not been paid profusely. Some good son
Paint my two hundred pictures-let him try!
No doubt, there's something strikes a balance.
Yes,

You love me quite enough, it seems to-night.

This must suffice me here. What would one

have?

260 In heaven, perhaps, new chances, one more chance

Four great walls in the New Jerusalem
Meted on each side by the angel's reed,
For Leonard, Rafael, Agnolo and me

To cover the three first without a wife, 265 While I have mine! So-still they overcome Because there's still Lucrezia,—as I choose.

Again the Cousin's whistle! Go, my Love.

PROSPICE

(From Dramatis Persona, 1864)

Fear death?-to feel the fog in my throat,
The mist in my face,

When the snows begin, and the blasts denote
I am nearing the place,

5 The power of the night, the press of the storm, The post of the foe;

10

Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form,
Yet the strong man must go;

For the journey is done and the summit attained,
And the barriers fall,

Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be
gained,

The reward of it all.

I was ever a fighter, so-one fight more,

The best and the last!

15 I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forebore,

20

And bade me creep past.

No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my

peers,

The heroes of old,

Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears
Of pain, darkness and cold.

For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave,
The black minute's at end,

And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave,
Shall dwindle, shall blend,

25 Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain,

Then a light, then thy breast,

O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again,
And with God be the rest!

RABBI BEN EZRA

(From the same)

I.

Grow old along with me!

The best is yet to be,

The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in His hand

5 Who saith, "A whole I planned,

Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!"

II.

Not that, amassing flowers,

Youth sighed, "Which rose make ours,
Which lily leave and then as best recall?”

10 Not that, admiring stars,

It yearned," Nor Jove, nor Mars;

Mine be some figured flame which blends, transscends them all!"

III.

Not for such hopes and fears
Annulling youth's brief years,

15 Do I remonstrate; folly wide the mark!

Rather I prize the doubt

Low kinds exist without,

Finished and finite clods, untroubled by a spark.

IV.

Poor vaunt of life indeed,

20 Were man but formed to feed

On joy, to solely seek and find and feast;

Such feasting ended, then

As sure an end to men;

Irks care the crop-full bird? Frets doubt the maw-crammed beast?

25 Rejoice we are allied

V.

To That which doth provide

UNIVA OF CAV

And not partake, effect and not receive!

A spark disturbs our clod;

Nearer we hold of God

30 Who gives, than of His tribes that take, I must believe.

VI.

Then, welcome each rebuff

That turns earth's smoothness rough,

Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go!

Be our joys three-parts pain!

35 Strive, and hold cheap the strain;

Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe!

VII.

For thence,-a paradox

Which comforts while it mocks,—

Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail:

40 What I aspired to be,

And was not, comforts me:

A brute I might have been, but would not sink i' the scale.

VIII.

What is he but a brute

Whose flesh hath soul to suit,

45 Whose spirit works lest arms and legs want play? To man, propose this test

Thy body at its best,

How far can that project thy soul on its lone way?

IX.

Yet gifts should prove their use:

50 I own the Past profuse

Of power each side, perfection every turn:

Eyes, ears took in their dole,

Brain treasured up the whole;

Should not the heart beat once

live and learn?"

"How good to

X.

55 Not once beat "Praise be Thine!

I see the whole design,

I, who saw Power, see now Love perfect too:
Perfect I call Thy plan:

Thanks that I was a man!

60 Maker, remake complete,-I trust what Thou

shalt do!"

XI.

For pleasant is this flesh;
Our soul, in its rose-mesh