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| XLIX. |
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| LXVI. | LXVI.
GEUS NON SANCTA. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
LXVI. GEUS NON SANCTA.
I toiled along the public path:
Loud rang the booths with knave and clown;
Now laughter peals, now cries of wrath
Assailed the suburb from the town.
Loud rang the booths with knave and clown;
Now laughter peals, now cries of wrath
Assailed the suburb from the town.
Pleasure, the kennel Circe, brimmed
Her cup for him that passed. Hard by
Sabbathless labour, dust-begrimmed
Alternated the curse and sigh.
Her cup for him that passed. Hard by
Sabbathless labour, dust-begrimmed
Alternated the curse and sigh.
‘Alas,’ I said, ‘no God is here!
The World, the Flesh, rule here confest:’
I heard a voice; an Angel near
On sailed; an altar touched his breast.
The World, the Flesh, rule here confest:’
I heard a voice; an Angel near
On sailed; an altar touched his breast.
110
He placed it by me, and I knelt;
Clamour and shout and dust were gone:
I prayed, and in my prayer I felt
The peace of God, and heard, ‘walk on;
Clamour and shout and dust were gone:
I prayed, and in my prayer I felt
The peace of God, and heard, ‘walk on;
‘Walk on: the Lands this hour that sleep
A sleep of storm, shall wake to pray
And, praying, rest; her Feasts shall keep;
Their long, sad years thenceforth a May!’
A sleep of storm, shall wake to pray
And, praying, rest; her Feasts shall keep;
Their long, sad years thenceforth a May!’
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |