When first I saw thee ’neath the silver mist, Ruling thy bark of painted sandal-wood, Did any know thee? By the golden sails That clasped the ribbands of that azure sea, Did any know thee save my heart alone? O ivory woman with thy bands of gold, Answer the song my luth and I have brought thee! II Dream over golden dream that secret cist, Thy heart, O heart of me, doth hold, and mood On mood of silver, when the day’s light fails, Say who hath touched the secret heart of thee, Or who hath known what my heart hath not known! O slender pilot whom the mists enfold, Answer the song my luth and I have wrought thee! III When new love plucks the falcon from his wrist, And cuts the gyve and casts the scarlet hood, Where is the heron heart whom flight avails? O quick to prize me Love, how suddenly From out the tumult truth hath ta’en his own, And in this vision is our past unrolled. Lo! With a hawk of light thy love hath caught me. IV And I shall get no peace from eucharist, Nor doling out strange prayers before the rood, To match the peace that thine hands’ touch entails; Nor doth God’s light match light shed over me When thy caught sunlight is about me thrown, Oh, for the very ruth thine eyes have told, Answer the rune this love of thee hath taught me. V After an age of longing had we missed Our meeting and the dream, what were the good Of weaving cloth of words? Were jeweled tales An opiate meet to quell the malady Of life unlived? In untried monotone Were not the earth as vain, and dry, and old, For thee, O Perfect Light, had I not sought thee? VI Calais, in song where word and tone keep tryst, Behold my heart, and hear mine hardihood! Calais, the wind is come and heaven pales And trembles for the love of day to be. Calais, the words break and the dawn is shown. Ah, but the stars set when thou wast first bold, Turn! lest they say a lesser light distraught thee. VII O ivory thou, the golden scythe hath mown Night’s stubble and my joy. Ah, royal souled, Favour the quest! Lo, Truth and I have sought thee! TO OUR LADY OF VICARIOUS ATONEMENT (BALLATA) I Who are you that the whole world’s song Is shaken out beneath your feet Leaving you comfortless, Who, that, as wheat Is garnered, gather in The blades of man’s sin And bear that sheaf? Lady of wrong and grief, Blameless! II All souls beneath the gloom That pass with little flames, All these till time be run Pass one by one As Christs to save, and die; What wrong one sowed, Behold, another reaps! Where lips awake our joy The sad heart sleeps Within. No man doth bear his sin, But many sins Are gathered as a cloud about man’s way. EPILOGUE TO GUIDO CAVALCANTI