English

When this appears, his rising beams presage
Ungovern'd Fury, and unruly Rage;
A flaming Anger, universal Hate
With Jealousie make up his Births unhappy Fate:
Each little Cause doth scorching Thoughts inspire,
Their Soul's inflam'd, and Words break out in Fire:
Yet crowd so fast, they justle as they rise,
And part flies out in Sparkles through their Eyes.
Their Tongue's on Foam, and with their Teeth they break
Their Words, and Bark when they design to Speak .
Besides, excess in Wine inflames their Fire,

[ Fabrications ]

YOUNG LIONEL . To what may young men best compare themselves?
Better to what, then to a house new built,
The Fabricke strong, the chambers well contriv'd,
Polish'd within, without well beautifi'd;
When all that gaze upon the Edifice
Doe not alone commend the workemans craft,
But either make it their fair precedent

[ Medea's dilemma ]

Now rising shades a solemn scene display
O'er the wide earth, and o'er th' etherial way;
All night the sailor marks the northern team,
And golden circlet of Orion's beam:
A deep repose the weary watchman shares,
And the faint wanderer sleeps away his cares;
Ev'n the fond maid, while yet all breathless lies
Her child of love, in slumber seals her eyes:
No sound of village-dog, no noise invades
The death-like silence of the midnight shades;

PART FIFTH

The bells in many a giddy ring
Run down the wind to meet the King.
Who comes to feast, for service done,
With Earl de Vere at Kensington,
And brings with him his constant grace
Queen Eleanor, that angel's face.

In many-footed order free
First ride his guards, all staid to see;
In midst of whom the trumpets blow,
Straight as power and glory go;
And then his lords and knights, each one
A manly splendour in the sun;
And then his lofty self appears,

PART FOURTH

A H ! dream Sir William what he might,
Little he dreamt the truth that night
Could but some friend have told him all,
How had he spurred from Hendon Hall,
And dashed among the doting set,
Who bore away that soft cheek wet!
How had the hills by which they go,
Re-echoed to his dite " Hallo!"
Startling the waking farmers' ears
With thoughts of thieves and murderers,
And scattering wide those owlish men,
While close he clasped his dove again.

PART THIRD

C OULD the sweet moon laugh, its light
Had surely been convulsed that night,
To see fifteen old horsemen wag
Their beards, to one poor maiden's nag;
Fifteen old beards in chat and cough,
Rumbling to keep the robbers off,
And ever and aye, when lanes grew close,
Following each the other's nose,
And with the silver beam she cast
Tipped, like every tree they passed
The owls they seemed to hoot their folly
With a staring melancholy.

PART SECOND

S IR Grey and Sir Guy, like proper old boys,
Have met, with a world of coughing and noise;
And after subsiding, judiciously dine,
Serious the venison, and chirping the wine.
They talk of the court, now gathering all
To the sunny plump smoke of Earl-Mount Hall:
And pity their elders laid up on the shelves,
And abuse every soul upon earth but themselves.
Only Sir Grey doth it rather to please,
And Sir Guy out of honest old spite and disease:

PART FIRST

'T IS June, and a bright sun burneth all,
Sir William hath galloped from Hendon Hall
To Kensington, where in a thick old wood
(Now its fair Gardens) a mansion stood,
Half like fortress, and half like farm,
A house which had ceased to be threatened with harm.
The gates frowned still, for the dignity's sake,
With porter, portcullis, and bit of a lake;
But ivy caressed their warm old ease,
And the young rooks chuckled across the trees,
And burning below went the golden bees.

The flower is not visible. The flower is fragrant. The fragrance is in full bloom. I dig a grave inside it. The grave is not visible. Into this invisible grave I go and sit down. I lie out. Again the flower is fragrant. The flower is not visible. The fragrance is in full bloom. I forget and am at it again digging a grave there. The grave is not visible. Toward the invisible grave I go forgetting for a moment about the flower. I really do lie down. Ahh. The flower is again fragrant. Flower that can't even be seen Flower that can't even be seen.

POEM NO. XV

1 I'm in a mirrorless room. Naturally the I in the mirror has gone out. I'm trembling now in fear of the I in the mirror. Has the I in the mirror gone somewhere to plot what next to do to me?

2 Slept in a dank crime-cuddling bed. In my precision dream I was absent and an artificial leg crammed into an infantry boot soiled my dream's white page.