From The French Of Plantin

To have a home, convenient for thy life, With fragrant fruit-walls in a garden fine, Some children, some retainers, and rare wine; To live serenely with thy faithful wife; To have no debts, nor quarrels, nor legal strife, Nor separation from dear kin of thine; Expecting nothing from the Great, to shine With modest light and just, where greed is rife.

To live with freedom, yet to be devout, Ruling thy well-curbed passions--and without Ambition’s scourge to thwart thy regnant will; Truly to worship God with ardent breath Among His shrubs and trees on plain and hill-- Thus pleasantly shalt thou at home wait Death.

R. L. S.

“Where hath fleeting Beauty led? To the doorway of the dead.” All the way you followed her Tripping through the palms and fir; All the way around you flew Splendid spirits from the blue-- Dreams and visions lightly caught In the meshes of your thought. What a glorious retinue Made that arduous chase with you! Half the world stood still to see Song and Fancy follow free At the waving of your wand-- While the echoing hills respond To your voice.

And now the race Ends with your averted face; At full effort you have sped Through that doorway of the dead-- But the hills and woods remain Peopled from your teeming brain! All that stately company Linger where their eyes may see Beauty fling the laurel o’er, At the closing of the door!

From Suppressed Chapters.

McGIFFEN