“good-bye,” I said to my Conscience—
“Good-bye for aye and aye;”
And I put her hands off harshly,
And turned my face away:
And Conscience, smitten sorely,
Returned not from that day.
But a time came when my spirit
Grew weary of its pace:
And I cried, “Come back, my Conscience,
I long to see thy face;”
...
Belshazzar had a letter,—
He never had but one;
Belshazzar’s correspondent
Concluded and begun
In that immortal copy
The conscience of us all
Can read without its glasses
On revelation’s wall.
From the First Part of “Wallenstein,” Act III. Sc. 4.
WALLENSTEIN (in soliloquy). Is it possible?
Is ’t so? I can no longer what I would!
No longer draw back at my liking! I
Must do the deed, because I thought of it,
And fed this heart here with a dream! Because
I did not scowl temptation from my presence,
Dallied with thought of...
Easy to drift to the open sea,
The tides are eager and swift and strong,
And whistling and free are the rushing winds,—
But O, to get back is hard and long.
Easy as told in Arabian tale,
To free from his jar the evil sprite
Till he rises like smoke to stupendous size,—
But O, nevermore can we prison him tight.
Easy as told in...
From “a Woman Killed with Kindness”
O GOD! O God! that it were possible
To undo things done; to call back yesterday!
That time could turn up his swift sandy glass,
To untell the days, and to redeem these hours!
Or that the sun
Could, rising from the West, draw his coach backward,—
Take from the account of time so many minutes,...
Anonymous translation from the Latin
From Satire XIII.
THE SPARTAN rogue who, boldly bent on fraud,
Dared ask the god to sanction and applaud,
And sought for counsel at the Pythian shrine,
Received for answer from the lips divine,—
“That he who doubted to restore his trust,
And reasoned much, reluctant to be just,
Should for those...
From “Idyls of the King: Guinevere”
THE QUEEN looked up, and said,
“O maiden, if indeed you list to sing,
Sing, and unbind my heart, that I may weep.”
Whereat full willingly sang the little maid:
“Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill!
Late, late, so late! but we can enter still.
Too late, too late! Ye cannot enter now...
Does the road wind up hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.
But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.
Shall I meet...
I Do not ask, O Lord, that life may be
A pleasant road;
I do not ask that Thou wouldst take from me
Aught of its load;
I do not ask that flowers should always spring
Beneath my feet;
I know too well the poison and the sting
Of things too sweet.
For one thing only, Lord, dear Lord, I plead,
Lead me...
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent, which is death to hide,
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
“Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But...
