The Poems of Algernon Charles Swinburne In Six Volumes |
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IV. |
V. |
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III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. | IX THOMAS MIDDLETON |
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XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
VI. |
The Poems of Algernon Charles Swinburne | ||
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IX
THOMAS MIDDLETON
A wild moon riding high from cloud to cloud,
That sees and sees not, glimmering far beneath,
Hell's children revel along the shuddering heath
With dirge-like mirth and raiment like a shroud:
A worse fair face than witchcraft's, passion-proud,
With brows blood-flecked behind their bridal wreath
And lips that bade the assassin's sword find sheath
Deep in the heart whereto love's heart was vowed:
A game of close contentious crafts and creeds
Played till white England bring black Spain to shame:
A son's bright sword and brighter soul, whose deeds
High conscience lights for mother's love and fame:
Pure gipsy flowers, and poisonous courtly weeds:
Such tokens and such trophies crown thy name.
The Poems of Algernon Charles Swinburne | ||