Cxvi

Here History keeps shop, Tells how past deeds were done, so and not otherwise: "Man! hold truth evermore! forget the early lies!" There sits Morality, demure behind her stall, Dealing out life and death: "This is the thing to call Right, and this other, wrong; thus think, thus do, thus say, Thus joy, thus suffer!--not to-day as yesterday-- Yesterday's doctrine dead, this only shall endure! Obey its voice and live!"--enjoins the dame demure. While Art gives flag to breeze, bids drum beat, trumpet blow, Inviting eye and ear to yonder raree-show. Up goes the canvas, hauled to height of pole. I think, We know the way--long lost, late learned--to paint! A wink Of eye, and lo, the pose! the statue on its plinth! How could we moderns miss the heart o' the labyrinth Perversely all these years, permit the Greek seclude His secret till to-day? And here 's another feud Now happily composed: inspect this quartet-score! Got long past melody, no word has Music more To say to mortal man! But is the bard to be Behindhand? Here 's his book, and now perhaps you see At length what poetry can do!