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Should save the world, and therefore lent
Great gifts to, but who, proud, refused
To do his work, or lightly used

Those gifts, or failed through weak endeavour,

And mourn, cast off by him forever,—

As if these leaned in airy ring

To call me; this the song they sing.

"Lost, lost! yet come,

With our wan troop make thy home:
Come, come! for we

Will not breathe, so much as breathe
Reproach to thee!

Knowing what thou sink'st beneath :
So we sank in those old years,

We who bid thee, come! thou last
Who, a living man, has life o'erpast,
And all together we, thy peers,

Will pardon ask for thee, the last

Whose trial is done, whose lot is cast

With those who watch, but work no more

Who gaze on life, but live no more:
And yet we trusted thou shouldst speak
God's message which our lips, too weak,
Refused to utter, shouldst redeem
Our fault such trust, and all, a dream!
So we chose thee a bright birthplace
Where the richness ran to flowers-
Couldst not sing one song for grace?

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Nor make one blossom man's and ours?

Must one more recreant to his race

Die with unexerted powers,

And join us, leaving as he found

The world, he was to loosen, bound?
Anguish ever and forever;

Still beginning, ending never!
Yet, lost and last one, come!
How couldst understand, alas,
What our pale ghosts strove to say,
As their shades did glance and pass
Before thee, night and day?

Thou wert blind, as we were dumb :
Once more, therefore, come, O come!
How shall we better arm the spirit
Who next shall thy post of life inherit―
How guard him from thy ruin?

Tell us of thy sad undoing

Here, where we sit, ever pursuing

Our weary task, ever renewing

Sharp sorrow, far from God who gave

Our powers, and man they could not save!"

APRILE enters.

A spirit better armed, succeeding me?

Ha, ha! our king that wouldst be, here at last?

Art thou the Poet who shall save the world?

Thy hand to mine. Stay, fix thine eyes on mine. Thou wouldst be king? Still fix thine eyes on mine!

Par. Ha, ha! why crouchest not? Am I not king? So torture is not wholly unavailing!

Have my fierce spasms compelled thee from thy lair? Art thou the Sage I only seemed to be,

Myself of after-time, my very self

With sight a little clearer, strength more firm,
Who robs me of my prize and takes my place
For just a fault, a weakness, a neglect?

I scarcely trusted God with the surmise

That such might come, and thou didst hear the while '
Apr. Thine eyes are lustreless to mine; my hair
Is soft, nay silken soft to talk with thee
Flushes my cheek, and thou art ashy-pale,
True, thou hast laboured, hast withstood her lips,
The siren's! Yes, 'tis like thou hast attained!
Tell me, dear master, wherefore now thou comest?
I thought thy solemn songs would have their meed
In after-time; that I should hear the earth
Exult in thee, and echo with thy praise,

While I was laid forgotten in my grave.

Par. Not so! I know thee, I am not thy dupe!
Thou art ordained to follow in my track,
Even as thou sayest, succeeding to my place,
Reaping my sowing-as I scorned to reap
The harvest sown by sages passed away.

Thou art the sober searcher, cautious striver,

As if, except through me, thou had'st searched or striven!

Ay, tell the world! Degrade me, after all,

To an aspirant after fame, not truth

To all but envy of thy fate, be sure!

Apr. Nay, sing them to me; I shall envy not:
Thou shalt be king! Sing thou, and I will stand
Beside, and call deep silence for thy songs,
And worship thee, as I had ne'er been meant
To fill thy throne-but none shall ever know!
Sing to me for already thy wild eyes
Unlock my heart-springs, as some crystal-shaft
Reveals by some chance blaze its parent fount
After long time-so thou reveal'st my soul!
All will flash forth at last, with thee to hear
Par. (His secret! my successor's secret-fool!)
I am he that aspired to KNOW-and thou?
Apr. I would LOVE infinitely, and be loved!
Par. Poor slave! I am thy king indeed.
Apr.
That-born a spirit, dowered even as thou,
Born for thy fate-because I could not curb
My yearnings to possess at once the full
Enjoyment; yet neglected all the means
Of realizing even the frailest joy;

Thou deem'st

Gathering no fragments to appease my want,
Yet nursing up that want till thus I die-
Thou deem'st I cannot trace thy safe, sure march,
O'er perils that o'erwhelm me, triumphing,
Neglecting nought below for aught above,
Despising nothing and insuring all-
Nor that I could (my time to come again)
Lead thus my spirit securely as thine own:
Listen, and thou shalt see I know thee well.

I would love infinitely . . . Ah, lost! lost!

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ye

who armed me at such cost,

Your faces shall I bear to see

With your gifts even yet on me?—

Par. (Ah, 'tis some moonstruck creature after all! Such fond fools as are like to haunt this den:

They spread contagion, doubtless: yet he seemed
To echo one foreboding of my heart

So truly, that . . . no matter! How he stands
With eve's last sunbeam staying on his hair
Which turns to it, as if they were akin :
And those clear smiling eyes of saddest blue
Nearly set free, so far they rise above
The painful fruitless striving of that brow

And enforced knowledge of those lips, firm-set

In slow despondency's eternal sigh!

Has he, too, missed life's end, and learned the cause?)

Be calm, I charge thee, by thy fealty!

Tell me what thou wouldst be, and what I am.

Apr. I would love infinitely, and be loved.
First: I would carve in stone, or cast in brass,
The forms of earth. No ancient hunter, raised
Up to the gods by his renown; no nymph
Supposed the sweet soul of a woodland tree,
Or sapphirine spirit of a twilight star,
Should be too hard for me; no shepherd-king,
Regal with his white locks; no youth who stands
Silent and very calm amid the throng,

His right hand ever hid beneath his robe

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