Yea, the lines hast thou laid unto me in pleasant places, And the beauty of this thy Venice hast thou shown unto me Until is its loveliness become unto me a thing of tears. O God, what great kindness have we done in times past and forgotten it, That thou givest this wonder unto us, O God of waters? O God of the night, What great sorrow Cometh unto us, That thou thus repayest us Before the time of its coming? O God of silence, Purifiez nos cœurs, Purifiez nos cœurs, For we have seen The glory of the shadow of the likeness of thine handmaid, Yea, the glory of the shadow of thy Beauty hath walked Upon the shadow of the waters In this thy Venice. And before the holiness Of the shadow of thy handmaid Have I hidden mine eyes, O God of waters. O God of silence, Purifiez nos cœurs, Purifiez nos cœurs, O God of waters, make clean our hearts within us And our lips to show forth thy praise, For I have seen the Shadow of this thy Venice Floating upon the waters, And thy stars Have seen this thing, out of their far courses Have they seen this thing, O God of waters, Even as are thy stars Silent unto us in their far-coursing, Even so is mine heart become silent within me. _Purifiez nos cœurs,_ _O God of the silence,_ _Purifiez nos cœurs,_ _O God of waters._ SESTINA: ALTAFORTE Loquitur: _En_ Bertrans de Born. Dante Alighieri put this man in hell for that he was a stirrer-up of strife. Eccovi! Judge ye! Have I dug him up again? The scene is at his castle, Altaforte. “Papiols” is his jongleur. The “Leopard,” the _device_ of Richard (Cœur de Lion). I Damn it all! all this our South stinks peace. You whoreson dog, Papiols, come! Let’s to music! I have no life save when the swords clash. But ah! when I see the standards gold, vair, purple, opposing And the broad fields beneath them turn crimson, Then howl I my heart nigh mad with rejoicing. II In hot summer have I great rejoicing When the tempests kill the earth’s foul peace, And the lightnings from black heav’n flash crimson, And the fierce thunders roar me their music And the winds shriek through the clouds mad, opposing, And through all the riven skies God’s swords clash. III