Xxxii

Well then, thus much confessed, what wonder if there steal Unchallenged to nay heart the force of one appeal She makes, and justice stamp the sole claim she asserts? So absolutely good is truth, truth never hurts The teller, whose worst crime gets somehow grace, avowed. To me, that silent pose and prayer proclaimed aloud: "Know all of me outside, the rest be emptiness For such as you! I call attention to my dress, Coiffure, outlandish features, lithe memorable limbs, Piquant entreaty, all that eye-glance overskims. Does this give pleasure? Then, repay the pleasure, put Its price i' the tambourine! Do you seek further? Tut! I 'm just my instrument,--sound hollow: mere smooth skin Stretched o'er gilt framework, I; rub-dub, naught else within-- Always, for such as you!--if I have use elsewhere, If certain bells, now mute, can jingle, need you care? Be it enough, there 's truth i' the pleading, which comports With no word spoken out in cottages or courts, Since all I plead is, 'Pay for just the sight you see, And give no credit to another charm in me!' Do I say, like your Love? 'To praise my face is well, But, who would know my worth, must search my heart to tell!' Do I say, like your Wife? 'Had I passed in review The produce of the globe, my man of men were--you!' Do I say, like your Helen? 'Yield yourself up, obey Implicitly, nor pause to question, to survey Even the worshipful! prostrate you at my shrine! Shall you dare controvert what the world counts divine? Array your private taste, own liking of the sense, Own longing of the soul, against the impudence Of history, the blare and bullying of verse? As if man ever yet saw reason to disburse The amount of what sense liked, soul longed for,--given, devised As love, forsooth,--until the price was recognized As moderate enough by divers fellow-men! Then, with his warrant safe that these would love too, then, Sure that particular gain implies a public loss, And that no smile he buys but proves a slash across The face, a stab into the side of somebody-- Sure that, along with love's main-purchase, he will buy Up the whole stock of earth's uncharitableness, Envy and hatred,--then, decides he to profess His estimate of one, by love discerned, though dim To all the world beside: since what 's the world to him?' Do I say, like your Queen of Egypt? 'Who foregoes My cup of witchcraft--fault be on the fool! He knows Nothing of how I pack my wine-press, turn its winch Three-times-three, all the time to song and dance, nor flinch From charming on and on, till at the last I squeeze Out the exhaustive drop that leaves behind mere lees And dregs, vapidity, thought essence heretofore! Sup of my sorcery, old pleasures please no more! Be great, be good, love, learn, have potency of hand Or heart or head,--what boots? You die, nor understand What bliss might be in life: you ate the grapes, but knew Never the taste of wine, such vintage as I brew!' Do I say, like your Saint? 'An exquisitest touch Bides in the birth of things: no after-time can much Enhance that fine, that faint, fugitive first of all! What color paints the cup o' the May-rose, like the small Suspicion of a blush which doubtfully begins? What sound outwarbles brook, while, at the source, it wins That moss and stone dispart, allow its bubblings breathe? What taste excels the fruit, just where sharp flavors sheathe Their sting, and let encroach the honey that allays? And so with soul and sense; when sanctity betrays First fear lest earth below seem real as heaven above, And holy worship, late, change soon to sinful love-- Where is the plenitude of passion which endures Comparison with that, I ask of amateurs?' Do I say, like Elvire" ...