And the sight of thine eyes shall be made As the burning of fire; And thy soul shall be sorely afraid For thy soul's desire.

Ye whom your lords loved well, Putting silver and gold on you, The inevitable h.e.l.l Shall surely take hold on you; Your gold shall be for a token, Your staff for a rod; With the breaking of bands ye are broken, Saith the Lord G.o.d.

TENTH ANTIPHONE

In our sorrow we said to the night, Fall down and cover us; To the darkness at left and at right, Be thou shed over us; We had breaking of spirit to mother And cursing to bride; And one was slain, and another Stood up at our side.

We could not arise by day, Nor lie down by night; Thy sword was sharp in our way, Thy word in our sight; The delight of our eyelids was made As the burning of fire; And our souls became sorely afraid For our soul's desire.

We whom the world loved well, Laying silver and gold on us, The kingdom of death and of h.e.l.l Riseth up to take hold on us; Our gold is turned to a token, Our staff to a rod; Yet shalt thou bind them up that were broken, O Lord our G.o.d.

A LAMENTATION

I

Who hath known the ways of time Or trodden behind his feet?

There is no such man among men.

For chance overcomes him, or crime Changes; for all things sweet In time wax bitter again.

Who shall give sorrow enough, Or who the abundance of tears?

Mine eyes are heavy with love And a sword gone thorough mine ears, A sound like a sword and fire, For pity, for great desire; Who shall ensure me thereof, Lest I die, being full of my fears?

Who hath known the ways and the wrath, The sleepless spirit, the root And blossom of evil will, The divine device of a G.o.d?

Who shall behold it or hath?

The twice-tongued prophets are mute, The many speakers are still; No foot has travelled or trod, No hand has meted, his path.

Man's fate is a blood-red fruit, And the mighty G.o.ds have their fill And relax not the rein, or the rod.

Ye were mighty in heart from of old, Ye slew with the spear, and are slain.

Keen after heat is the cold, Sore after summer is rain, And melteth man to the bone.

As water he weareth away, As a flower, as an hour in a day, Fallen from laughter to moan.

But my spirit is shaken with fear Lest an evil thing begin, New-born, a spear for a spear, And one for another sin.

Or ever our tears began, It was known from of old and said; One law for a living man, And another law for the dead.

For these are fearful and sad, Vain, and things without breath; While he lives let a man be glad, For none hath joy of his death.

II

Who hath known the pain, the old pain of earth, Or all the travail of the sea, The many ways and waves, the birth Fruitless, the labour nothing worth?

Who hath known, who knoweth, O G.o.ds? not we.

There is none shall say he hath seen, There is none he hath known.

Though he saith, Lo, a lord have I been, I have reaped and sown; I have seen the desire of mine eyes, The beginning of love, The season of kisses and sighs And the end thereof.

I have known the ways of the sea, All the perilous ways, Strange winds have spoken with me, And the tongues of strange days.

I have hewn the pine for ships; Where steeds run arow, I have seen from their bridled lips Foam blown as the snow.

With snapping of chariot-poles And with straining of oars I have grazed in the race the goals, In the storm the sh.o.r.es; As a greave is cleft with an arrow At the joint of the knee, I have cleft through the sea-straits narrow To the heart of the sea.

When air was smitten in sunder I have watched on high The ways of the stars and the thunder In the night of the sky; Where the dark brings forth light as a flower, As from lips that dissever; One abideth the s.p.a.ce of an hour, One endureth for ever.

Lo, what hath he seen or known, Of the way and the wave Unbeholden, unsailed on, unsown, From the breast to the grave?

Or ever the stars were made, or skies, Grief was born, and the kinless night, Mother of G.o.ds without form or name.

And light is born out of heaven and dies, And one day knows not another's light, But night is one, and her shape the same.

But dumb the G.o.ddesses underground Wait, and we hear not on earth if their feet Rise, and the night wax loud with their wings; Dumb, without word or shadow of sound; And sift in scales and winnow as wheat Men's souls, and sorrow of manifold things.

III

Nor less of grief than ours The G.o.ds wrought long ago To bruise men one by one; But with the incessant hours Fresh grief and greener woe Spring, as the sudden sun Year after year makes flowers; And these die down and grow, And the next year lacks none.

As these men sleep, have slept The old heroes in time fled, No dream-divided sleep; And holier eyes have wept Than ours, when on her dead G.o.ds have seen Thetis weep, With heavenly hair far-swept Back, heavenly hands outspread Round what she could not keep,

Could not one day withhold, One night; and like as these White ashes of no weight, Held not his urn the cold Ashes of Heracles?

For all things born one gate Opens, no gate of gold; Opens; and no man sees Beyond the G.o.ds and fate.

ANIMA ANCEPS

Till death have broken Sweet life's love-token, Till all be spoken That shall be said, What dost thou praying, O soul, and playing With song and saying, Things flown and fled?

For this we know not-- That fresh springs flow not And fresh griefs grow not When men are dead; When strange years cover Lover and lover, And joys are over And tears are shed.

If one day's sorrow Mar the day's morrow-- If man's life borrow And man's death pay-- If souls once taken, If lives once shaken, Arise, awaken, By night, by day-- Why with strong crying And years of sighing, Living and dying, Fast ye and pray?

For all your weeping, Waking and sleeping, Death comes to reaping And takes away.

Though time rend after Roof-tree from rafter, A little laughter Is much more worth Than thus to measure The hour, the treasure, The pain, the pleasure, The death, the birth; Grief, when days alter, Like joy shall falter; Song-book and psalter, Mourning and mirth.

Live like the swallow; Seek not to follow Where earth is hollow Under the earth.

IN THE ORCHARD

(PROVENAL BURDEN)

Leave go my hands, let me catch breath and see; Let the dew-fall drench either side of me; Clear apple-leaves are soft upon that moon Seen sidelong like a blossom in the tree; Ah G.o.d, ah G.o.d, that day should be so soon.

The gra.s.s is thick and cool, it lets us lie.

Kissed upon either cheek and either eye, I turn to thee as some green afternoon Turns toward sunset, and is loth to die; Ah G.o.d, ah G.o.d, that day should be so soon.

Lie closer, lean your face upon my side, Feel where the dew fell that has hardly dried, Hear how the blood beats that went nigh to swoon; The pleasure lives there when the sense has died; Ah G.o.d, ah G.o.d, that day should be so soon.

O my fair lord, I charge you leave me this: Is it not sweeter than a foolish kiss?

Nay take it then, my flower, my first in June, My rose, so like a tender mouth it is: Ah G.o.d, ah G.o.d, that day should be so soon.