 | English Roses |  |
THE WORLD'S DESIRE.
No two saw her alike, but each felt
The compulsion of kin
And that force which for ever has dwelt
In the fairness of sin;
When she passed,
And their fortunes were glassed
In the fate of those overcast eyes,
As gray skies.
And the boldest who looked in her face
Deemed that life without her would be hollow,
Made to own the imperious grace
And to follow.
The compulsion of kin
And that force which for ever has dwelt
In the fairness of sin;
When she passed,
And their fortunes were glassed
In the fate of those overcast eyes,
As gray skies.
And the boldest who looked in her face
Deemed that life without her would be hollow,
Made to own the imperious grace
And to follow.
So the King in a moment laid down
His repute for her sake,
While he hung on a bramble his crown
For the beggar to take;
And the rich
Was content with a ditch
And her love, if he only might hear
Or be near.
And the sage turned from wisdom, and swore
That her folly was sweet and far better;
He put on as a garment her love,
And its fetter.
His repute for her sake,
While he hung on a bramble his crown
For the beggar to take;
And the rich
Was content with a ditch
And her love, if he only might hear
Or be near.
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That her folly was sweet and far better;
He put on as a garment her love,
And its fetter.
And the fearless who met her bright glance,
Though unconquered as yet,
Was involved in her train and the dance
Sweeping all in its net;
And the cold,
At her scarlet and gold,
Grew to flame in the beautiful band
Of her hand.
And the aged were young, when she spoke
With the spells of her down-dropping lashes,
And the fires of dead loves re-awoke
From their ashes.
Though unconquered as yet,
Was involved in her train and the dance
Sweeping all in its net;
And the cold,
At her scarlet and gold,
Grew to flame in the beautiful band
Of her hand.
And the aged were young, when she spoke
With the spells of her down-dropping lashes,
And the fires of dead loves re-awoke
From their ashes.
O the hero threw fame to the wind
And his honour set low,
Whether camped in the furnace of Ind
Or entombed in the snow;
When she wiled
With her glory and smiled
In her splendour and but for a whim
Upon him.
For her step was a destiny strong
And as swift as the path of the swallow,
It constrained through the right or the wrong
Men to follow.
And his honour set low,
Whether camped in the furnace of Ind
Or entombed in the snow;
When she wiled
With her glory and smiled
In her splendour and but for a whim
Upon him.
For her step was a destiny strong
And as swift as the path of the swallow,
It constrained through the right or the wrong
Men to follow.
For the clerk threw aside his keen pen
And the soldier his sword,
At the flash of a fiercer new ken
And a lustier lord;
That illumed
With a light which consumed,
And at length while it gladdened and warmed
Yet transformed.
And the sorrowful recked not of grief
With a hint of the touch that was madness,
And discovered the balm of relief
In more sadness.
And the soldier his sword,
At the flash of a fiercer new ken
And a lustier lord;
That illumed
With a light which consumed,
And at length while it gladdened and warmed
Yet transformed.
And the sorrowful recked not of grief
With a hint of the touch that was madness,
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In more sadness.
And the idle made haste and rose up
With a passion that sped,
If he tasted one drop of her cup
Which would quicken the dead;
And the sot
Left his lust and forgot,
When he drank of those wonderful charms
In her arms;
And the debtor remembered no due
In the joy beyond words and expression,
And got treasure most human and true
In transgression.
With a passion that sped,
If he tasted one drop of her cup
Which would quicken the dead;
And the sot
Left his lust and forgot,
When he drank of those wonderful charms
In her arms;
And the debtor remembered no due
In the joy beyond words and expression,
And got treasure most human and true
In transgression.
Ah, the honest and faithful inspired
By the sorcery cast,
Became softer than clay and required
Now no longer the past;
For they waxed
Very weak, and relaxed
Into shadows and lowlier shapes—
Swine and apes.
Iron bars at her presence were faint
And the eyes that seemed hardest grew moister,
While she lured though at service the saint
From his cloister.
By the sorcery cast,
Became softer than clay and required
Now no longer the past;
For they waxed
Very weak, and relaxed
Into shadows and lowlier shapes—
Swine and apes.
Iron bars at her presence were faint
And the eyes that seemed hardest grew moister,
While she lured though at service the saint
From his cloister.
And the link of the marriage dissolved
Like the melting of ice,
As she passed in her round that revolved
Without payment or price;
When the fire
Of a deeper desire
Fell in bosoms, and wrote in the brow
A fresh vow.
Yet they took the appearance of beasts
And in darkness delighted to wallow,
While thus doomed but to furnish her feasts
And to follow.
Like the melting of ice,
As she passed in her round that revolved
Without payment or price;
When the fire
Of a deeper desire
Fell in bosoms, and wrote in the brow
A fresh vow.
Yet they took the appearance of beasts
And in darkness delighted to wallow,
While thus doomed but to furnish her feasts
And to follow.
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