O last save me on the scaffold’s round! Take heart, that after a thirst profound The cup of delicious death is near, And whoso hold it, or whence it flow, O drink it to France, to France! and know For the gift thou givest, thou hast her tear. True seed thou wert of the sunnier hour, Honorable, and burst to flower Late in a hell-pit poison-walled: Farewell, mortality lopped and pale, Thou body that wast my friend! and Hail, Dear spirit already!... My name is called. [Illustration] _Winter Boughs_ HOW tender and how slow, in sunset’s cheer, Far on the hill, our quiet treetops fade! A broidery of northern seaweed, laid Long in a book, were scarce more fine and clear. Frost, and sad light, and windless atmosphere Have breathed on them, and of their frailties made Beauty more sweet than summer’s builded shade, Whose green domes fall, to bring this wonder here. O ye forgetting and outliving boughs, With not a plume, gay in the jousts before, Left for the Archer! so, in evening’s eye, So stilled, so lifted, let your lover die, Set in the upper calm no voices rouse, Stript, meek, withdrawn, against the heavenly door. [Illustration] _M. A. 1822-1888_ GOOD oars, for Arnold’s sake By Laleham lightly bound, And near the bank, O soft, Darling swan! Let not the o’erweary wake From this his natal ground, But where he slumbered oft, Slumber on. [Illustration] _W. H. 1778-1830_ BETWEEN the wet trees and the sorry steeple, Keep, Time, in dark Soho, what once was Hazlitt, Seeker of Truth, and finder oft of Beauty; Beauty ’s a sinking light, ah, none too faithful; But Truth, who leaves so here her spent pursuer, Forgets not her great pawn: herself shall claim it. Therefore sleep safe, thou dear and battling spirit, Safe also on our earth, begetting ever Some one love worth the ages and the nations! Nothing falls under to thine eyes eternal. Sleep safe in dark Soho: the stars are shining, Titian and Wordsworth live; the People marches. [Illustration] _The Vigil-at-Arms_ KEEP holy watch with silence, prayer, and fasting Till morning break, and all the bugles play; Unto the One aware from everlasting Dear are the winners: thou art more than they. Forth from this peace on manhood’s way thou goest, Flushed with resolve, and radiant in mail; Blessing supreme for men unborn thou sowest, O knight elect! O soul ordained to fail! [Illustration] _A Madonna of Domenico Ghirlandajo_