The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
 | II. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. | XXXI.
A PORTION OF BEATRICE
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| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
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| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
169
XXXI.
A PORTION OF BEATRICE
Ye strange fierce seas that listen to my song,
And all ye winds and mountains that rejoice
In unison with my uplifted voice,
And all ye streams that, one with me, are strong,
And all ye countless stars, a gold-crowned throng,
It is the last time, mark me, that I sing:
This summer breeze that trembles at my wing,
May eddy, unmolested, soon along.
And all ye winds and mountains that rejoice
In unison with my uplifted voice,
And all ye streams that, one with me, are strong,
And all ye countless stars, a gold-crowned throng,
It is the last time, mark me, that I sing:
This summer breeze that trembles at my wing,
May eddy, unmolested, soon along.
For I am one with Beatrice: the pure
Sweet soul of her is part of me, and I
No longer, stricken into speech, endure
The lonely black abhorrence of the sky,
But into life glad, passing speech, secure,
I move: victorious now, my song may die.
Sweet soul of her is part of me, and I
No longer, stricken into speech, endure
The lonely black abhorrence of the sky,
But into life glad, passing speech, secure,
I move: victorious now, my song may die.
1876.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |