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On Viol and Flute

By Edmund W. Gosse
Gosse, Edmund (1849-1928)
  
[dedication]
  
[dedication]
  
[epigraph]

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[section]
  
AD AUDITOREM.
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ALLEGRO.
  
SUNRISE BY THE SEA.
  
THE ALMOND TREE.
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FORTUNATE LOVE.
 I. 
I. FIRST SIGHT.
 II. 
II. ELATION.
 III. 
III. IN CHURCH-TIME.
 IV. 
IV. DEJECTION AND DELAY.
 V. 
V. EXPECTATION.
 VI. 
VI. IN THE GRASS.
 VII. 
VII. RESERVATION.
 VIII. 
VIII. BY THE WELL.
 IX. 
IX. MAY-DAY.
 X. 
X. MISTRUST.
 XI. 
XI. EAVESDROPPING.
 XII. 
XII. A GARDEN-PIECE.
 XIII. 
XIII. CONFIDENT LOVE.
 XIV. 
XIV. LOVERS' QUARREL.
 XV. 
XV. RECONCILIATION.
 XVI. 
XVI. THE FEAR OF DEATH.
 XVII. 
XVII. EXPERIENCE.
 XVIII. 
XVIII. THE EXCHANGE.
 XIX. 
XIX. UNDER THE APPLE-TREE.
 XX. 
XX. EPITHALAMIUM
  
FLOWER OF THE MARIGOLD.
  
SUNSHINE BEFORE SUNRISE.
  
LYING IN THE GRASS.
  
PARADISE.
  
ELSINORE.
  
IN THE BAY.
  
FROM THE NORWEGIAN OF IBSEN.
  
LÜBECK.
  
MOORLAND.
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ANDANTE.
  
[O wind of Provence, subtle wind that blows]
  
ENCOMIUM MORTIS.
  
REVOLT.
  
INITIUM AMORIS.
  
OLD AND NEW.
  
A FAREWELL.
  
PERFUME.
  
THE RENAISSANCE.
  
SONG.
  
GUENEVERE.
  
ON A LUTE FOUND IN A SARCOPHAGUS.
  
THE PARADISE OF A WEARIED SOUL.
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SONNETS FROM THE ITALIAN OF FRANCESCO REDI.
 I. 
I. PROEM.
 II. 
II. THE GARDEN OF EARTHLY LOVE.
 III. 
III. CAPTIVITY.
 IV. 
IV. HEAVENLY LOVE.
 V. 
V. THE CREATION OF MY LADY.
 VI. 
VI. GRIEF.
 VII. 
VII. THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES.
 VIII. 
VIII. LOVE THE MUSICIAN.
 IX. 
IX. THE END OF EARTHLY LOVE.
 X. 
X. REPENTANCE.
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ADAGIO.
  
[The saint of old who saw the witch-fire shine]
  
THE APOTHEOSIS OF ST. DOROTHY.
  
HOLY THURSDAY.
  
SPILLENDE GENIER.
  
ILLICET.
  
OLD TREES.
  
TO HENRIK IBSEN IN DRESDEN.
  
D. G. R.
  
FORGOTTEN.
  
SPIRITUAL DAWN.
  
FOR THE NEW YEAR.
  
1870—71.
  
THE MANDRAKES.
  
AD AUDITOREM.

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115

III. CAPTIVITY.

As I was gazing at her, well-a-day!
The iron-crownëd King of Love came by,
And, ere a path of egress I could spy,
His archers shot me, and half-dead I lay;
Then, while I swooned, they bore me thence away,
And shut me in a cage to weep and sigh,
And in this dolorous dungeon I must lie,
Racked daily by Love's jailors for their play;
Nor can I ever dream to wander free,
Or lose the pangs wherewith I am opprest,
Or know the sweet repose of painless rest,
For, if I rightly read the King's decree,
Deep in the care of Love's own iron breast
The keys are hidden till Death shall seize on me.
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