The ring and the book . t away; Alike abolished — the imprisonment Of the outside air, the inside weight o the world 935 That pulled me down. Death meant, to spurn the ground. Soar to the sky, — die well and you do that. The very immolation made the bliss; Death was the heart of life, and all the harm My folly had crouched to avoid, now proved a veil 940 Hiding all gain my wisdom strove to grasp : As if the intense centre of the flame Should turn a heaven to that devoted fly Which hitherto, sophist alike and sage, Saint Thomas ^ with his sober gray goose-quill, 945 And sinner Plato by Cephisia
The ring and the book . t away; Alike abolished — the imprisonment Of the outside air, the inside weight o the world 935 That pulled me down. Death meant, to spurn the ground. Soar to the sky, — die well and you do that. The very immolation made the bliss; Death was the heart of life, and all the harm My folly had crouched to avoid, now proved a veil 940 Hiding all gain my wisdom strove to grasp : As if the intense centre of the flame Should turn a heaven to that devoted fly Which hitherto, sophist alike and sage, Saint Thomas ^ with his sober gray goose-quill, 945 And sinner Plato by Cephisian- reed. Would fain, pretending just the insects good. Whisk off. drive back, consign to shade again. Into another state, under new rule 1 knew myself was passing swift and sure; 950 Whereof the initiatory pang approached, Felicitous annoy, as bitter-sweet As when the virgin-band, the victors chaste, Saint TJwtnas : Aquinas. See note on ? Cephisiati reed: the reeds of Cephisus, 1. 484. one of the rivers of CHURCH OF SANTA MARIA DELLA PIEVE, AREZZO. INTERIOR. GIUSEPPE CAPOXSACCHI. 213 Feel at the end the eartlily garments drop, And rise with something of a rosy shame 955 Into immortal nai<edncss : so I Lay. and let come the proper throe would thrill Into the ecstasy and outthrob pain. r the gray of dawn it was I found myself Facing the pillared front o the Pieve — mine, 960 My church : it seemed to say for tiie first time • But am not I the Bride, the mystic love O the Lamb, who took thy plighted troth, my priest. To fold thy warm heart on my heart of stone And freeze thee nor unfasten any more ? 965 This is a fieshly woman, — let the free Bestow their life-blood, thou art pulseless now! Seel Day by day I had risen and left this church At the signal waved me by some foolish fan, With half a curse and half a pitying smile 970 For the monk I stumbled over in my haste, Prostrate and corpse-like at the altar-foot Intent on his corona ^: then the church Was read
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