Appendix

O Magali, my love, my treasure! Open thy casement while I sing A morning song, and round the measure With tambourine and viol string.

The sky with stars is glittering. The wind 's at leisure; But pale the stars of heaven will be, Beholding thee!

The morning song floats idly by me, As whisper of the early breeze. I to the silver deep will hie me: I 'll be an eel! I 'll bannt the seas!

O Magali! the witcheries In vain shall try me! When thou art fish, I 'll fisher be. And fish for thee! Wilt thou a fisher be, thou sayest? Thy bait is flung for me in vain! I will turn bird while thou delayest, And wing my way across the plain.

O Magali! turn bird again. If so thou mayest! When thou art bird, I 'll fowler be, Ensuaring thee!

Partridge and quail while thou art snaring With cruel traps for tiny feet, I 'll be a flower, my head uprearing Secure, afar in meadows sweet.

O Magali, my Marguerite! I 'm filled with daring! When thou art flower, I stream will be, Refreshing thee!

If thou become a stream, what wonder If I turn cloud the self-same day, And swiftly, swiftly travel yonder, Even to far America.

O Magali! seek India, Yet we 'll not sunder! Behold! I the sea-breeze will be, And carry thee. The sea-breeze wilt thou, singer daring? I can escape thee yet; for lo! I 'll be the sun-ray, blinding, glaring,— The fierce, hot ray that wastes the snow.

O Magali! and wilt thou so? Then, earthward faring, I will an emerald lizard be, And swallow thee.

And if thou turnest salamander, Among the water-weeds to roam, I 'll be the moon, in full-orbed splendor, Lighting the ways of witch and gnome.

O Magali! wilt thou become That planet tender? Then will I the white halo be, Enfolding thee!

Yet though the halo hover o'er me, I shall not feel thy folding arm. I will turn virgin-rose before thee: My thorns will keep me safe from harm.

O Magali! the rose's charm Shall not secure thee; For I the butterfly will be, Aye kissing thee. Away! away! and woe betide thee! I nerer, never will be thine! I in the oak's rough bark will hide me, In glades where sun shall never shine.

Yet, Magali, thou shalt be mine, Who hast defied me! I will the knotted ivy be, Fast binding thee!

The hoary oak alone thou stayest In thy victorious embrace! For I to Saint Blasè will haste, With the white nuns to take my place.

O Magali! thou shalt find grace When there thou prayest, For I the shaven priest will be, Absolving thee!

And if thou pass the portal holy, A weeping train thou shalt descry,— The convent-sisters wending slowly About the coffin where I lie.

Then, Magali, right glad were I! That sleeper lowly Wert thou, I would the warm earth be, Aye clasping thee. Now seest thou a glad believer! This is not jest, this is not art. Take thou my ring; and keep the giver, Fair youth, for ever in thy heart!

O Magali! thou dost impart Rapture for ever! See now the stars, how pale they be At sight of thee!