Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . sp and curld : Unto me my maudlin gall And my mockeries of the world. Fill the cup, and fill the can :Mingle madness, mingle scorn ! Dregs of life, and lees of man :Yet we will not die forlorn. The voice grew faint: there came a further change ;Once more uprose the mystic mountain-range :Below were men and horses pierced with slowly quickening into lower forms ;By shards and scurf of salt, and scum of dross,Old plash of rains, and refuse patchd with some one spake : Behold ! it was a crimeOf sense avenged by sense that wore with
Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . sp and curld : Unto me my maudlin gall And my mockeries of the world. Fill the cup, and fill the can :Mingle madness, mingle scorn ! Dregs of life, and lees of man :Yet we will not die forlorn. The voice grew faint: there came a further change ;Once more uprose the mystic mountain-range :Below were men and horses pierced with slowly quickening into lower forms ;By shards and scurf of salt, and scum of dross,Old plash of rains, and refuse patchd with some one spake : Behold ! it was a crimeOf sense avenged by sense that wore with said : The crime of sense becameThe crime of malice, and is equal blame. The l^ision of Sin. And one : He had not wholly quenchd his power; A little grain of conscience made him sour. At last I heard a voice upon the slope Cry to the summit, Is there any hope ? To which an answer peald from that high land, But in a tongue no man could understand ; And on the glimmering limit far withdrawn God made Himself an awful rose of ?503^ TO AFTER RKADING A I^IFE AND LETTERS. Cursed be he that moves my bones. Shakespeares Epitaph. You might have won the Poets name,If such be worth the winning now,And gaind a laurel for your brow Of sounder leaf than I can claim ; But you have made the wiser choice,A life that moves to gracious endsThro troops of unrecording friends, A deedful life, a silent voice : And you have missd the irreverent doomOf those that wear the Poets crown :Hereafter, neither knave nor clown Shall hold their orgies at 3our tomb. (223) 224 To . For now the Poet cannot die,Nor leave his music as of old,But round him ere he scarce be cold Begins the scandal and the cry : Proclaim the faults he would not show :Break lock and seal: betray the trust :Keep nothing sacred : tis but just The many-headed beast should know. Ah shameless ! for he did but sing A song that pleased us from its worth ;No public life was his on earth. No blazond statesman he, nor king. He gave
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