Man’s love follows many faces, My love only one face knoweth; Towards thee only my love floweth, And outstrips the swift stream’s paces. Were this love well here displayed, As flame flameth ’neath thin jade Love should glow through these my phrases. III Though I’ve roamed through many places, None there is that my heart troweth Fair as that wherein fair groweth One whose land here interlaces Tuneful words, that I’ve essayed. Let this tune be gently played Which my voice herward upraises. IV If my praise her grace effaces, Then ’t is not my heart that showeth, But the skilless tongue that soweth Words unworthy of her graces. Tongue, that hath me so betrayed, Were my heart but here displayed, Then were sung her fitting praises. NOTE. The form and measure are those of Piere Vidal’s “_Ab l’alen tir vas me l’aire_.” The song is fit only to be sung, and is not to be spoken. CANZON: OF INCENSE [To this form sings Arnault Daniel, with seven stanzas instead of five.] I Thy gracious ways, O Lady of my heart, have O’er all my thought their golden glamour cast; As amber torch-flames, where strange men-at-arms Tread softly ’neath the damask shield of night, Rise from the flowing steel in part reflected, So on my mailed thought that with thee goeth, Though dark the way, a golden glamour falleth. II The censer sways And glowing coals some art have To free what frankincense before held fast Till all the summer of the eastern farms Doth dim the sense, and dream up through the light, As memory, by new-born love corrected— With savour such as only new love knoweth— Through swift dim ways the hidden pasts recalleth. III On barren days, At hours when I, apart, have Bent low in thought of the great charm thou hast, Behold with music’s many stringed charms The silence groweth thou. O rare delight! The melody upon clear strings inflected Were dull when o’er taut sense thy presence floweth, With quivering notes’ accord that never palleth. IV The glowing rays That from the low sun dart, have Turned gold each tower and every towering mast; The saffron flame, that flaming nothing harms Hides Khadeeth’s pearl and all the sapphire might Of burnished waves, before her gates collected: The cloak of graciousness, that round thee gloweth, Doth hide the thing thou art, as here befalleth. V