And round her happy footsteps blow Her beauty haunts him all the night; Most humble when he most aspires, To suffer scorn and cruel wrongs From her he honours and desires. Her graces make him rich, and ask No guerdon; this imperial style Affronts him; he disdains to bask, The pensioner of her priceless smile. Of love's fresh-born magnipotence. To vanquish heaven, and call her Wife. He notes how queens of sweetness still Neglect their crowns, and stoop to mate; How, self-consign'd with lavish will, They ask but love proportionate; BOOK I, CANTO VIII. PRELUDES What's that, which, ere I spake, was gone: That, had the splendour lived a year, Did see, could not be now more clear. And nothing transient be desired; ΙΟ 15 20 25 31 35 40 5 ΙΟ 15 II. THE REVELATION An idle poet, here and there, Looks round him; but, for all the rest, The world, unfathomably fair, Is duller than a witling's jest. Love wakes men, once a life-time each; They lift their heavy lids and look; And, lo, what one sweet page can teach, They read with joy, then shut the book. And some give thanks, and some blaspheme, And most forget; but, either way, That and the Child's unheeded dream Is all the light of all their day. 5 ΙΟ 5 10 My little Son, who look'd from thoughtful eyes And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise, Having my law the seventh time disobey'd, I struck him, and dismiss'd With hard words and unkiss'd, 5 The wonder was not yet quite gone From that still look of hers; Albeit, to them she left, her day Had counted as ten years. 6 12 18 24 |