This was the gallant faith, I trow, Of which the sages tell; On such devotion long ago The benediction fell; And never nobler martyr burned, Or braver hero died, Than he who worldly honor spurned To serve the Crucified. And Lancelot and Sir Bedivere May pass beyond the pale, And wander over moor and mere To find the Holy Grail; But ever yet the prize forsooth My hero holds in fee; And he is Blameless Knight in truth, And Galahad to me. CHAUCER Gone are the sensuous stars, and manifold, Clear sunbeams burst upon the front of night; Ten thousand swords of azure and of gold Give darkness to the dark and welcome light; Across the night of ages strike the gleams, And leading on the gilded host appears An old man writing in a book of dreams, And telling tales of lovers for the years; Still Troilus hears a voice that whispers, Stay; In Nature's garden what a mad rout sings! Let's hear these motley pilgrims wile away The tedious hours with stories of old things; Or might some shining eagle claim These lowly numbers for the House of Fame! Joshua Henry Jones, Jr. TO A SKULL Ghastly, ghoulish, grinning skull, Toothless, eyeless, hollow, dull, Why your smirk and empty smile As the hours away you wile? Has the earth become such bore That it pleases nevermore? Whence your joy through sun and rain? Is 't because of loss of pain? Have you learned what men learn not That earth's substance turns to rot? After learning now you scan Vain endeavors man by man? Do you mind that you as they Once was held by mystic sway; Dreamed and struggled, hoped and prayed, Lolled and with the minutes played? Sighed for honors; battles planned; Sipped of cups that wisdom banned But would please the weak frail flesh; Suffered, fell, 'rose, struggled fresh? Now that you are but a skull Glimpse you life as life is, full Of beauties that we miss Till time withers with his kiss? Do you laugh in cynic vein Since you cannot try again? And you know that we, like you, Will too late our failings rue? Tell me, ghoulish, grinning skull What deep broodings, o'er you mull? Tell me why you smirk and smile Ere I pass life's sunset stile. APPENDIX PLÁCIDO'S SONNET TO HIS MOTHER DESPIDA A MI MADRE _(En La Capilla)_ Si la suerte fatal que me ha cabido, Y el triste fin de mi sangrienta historia, Al salir de esta vida transitoria Deja tu corazon de muerte herido; Baste de Ilanto: el ánimo afligido Recobre su quietud; moro en la gloria, Y mi plácida lira á tu memoria Lanza en la tumba su postrer sonido. Sonido dulce, melodioso y santo, Glorioso, espiritual, puro y divino, Inocente, espontáneo como el llanto Que vertiera al nacer: ya el cuello inclino! Ya de la religion me cubre el manto! Adios, mi madre! adios--El Peligrino. FAREWELL TO MY MOTHER _(In the Chapel)_