English

Prologue
Mutual forgiveness of each vice,
Such are the gates of paradise,
Against the accuser's chief desire,
Who walk'd among the stones of fire.
Jehovah's finger wrote the law;
Then wept; then rose in zeal and awe,
And the dead corpse, from Sinai's heat,
Buried beneath his mercy seat.
O Christians! Christians! tell me why
You rear it on your altars high?
The Keys

The caterpillar on the leaf
Reminds thee of thy mother's grief.
Of the Gates

My eternal man set in repose,

So the storms bore the daughters of Pandaros out into thrall —
The gods slew their parents; the orphans were left in the hall.
And there came, to feed their young lives, Aphrodite divine,
With the incense, the sweet-tasting honey, the sweet-smelling wine;
Hera brought them her wit above woman's, and beauty of face;
And pure Artemis gave them her stature, that form might have grace;
And Athene instructed their hands in her works of renown;
Then, afar to Olympos, divine Aphrodite moved on:
To complete other gifts, by uniting each girl to a mate,

And so these daughters fair of Pandarus
The whirlwinds took. The gods had slain their kin:
They were left orphans in their father's house.
And Aphrodite came to comfort them
With incense, luscious honey, and fragrant wine;
And Here gave them beauty of face and soul
Beyond all women; purest Artemis
Endowed them with her stature and white grace;
And Pallas taught their hands to flash along
Her famous looms. Then, bright with deity,
Toward far Olympus, Aphrodite went
To ask of Zeus (who has his thunder-joys

The day will come, when't shall be said,
"D'ye hear the news--? the Dean is dead--!
Poor man! he went, all on a sudden--!'
Ha's dropp'd, and giv'n the crow a pudden!
What money was behind him found?
"I hear about two thousand pound--
'Tis own'd he was a man of wit--,'
Yet many a foolish thing he writ--;
"And, sure he must be deeply learn'd--!'
That's more than ever I discern'd--;
"I know his nearest friends complain,
He was too airy for a dean--.
He was an honest man I'll swear--:'
Why Sir, I differ from you there,

I

It is an ancyent marinere,
And he stoppeth one of three:
" By thy long grey beard and thy glittering eye
Now wherefore stoppest me?

The bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set —
Mayst hear the merry din."

But still he holds the wedding-guest:
" There was a ship", quoth he —

From Remorse, Act III, Scene I, LL. 69-82

Hear, sweet spirit, hear the spell,
Lest a blacker charm compel!
So shall the midnight breezes swell
With thy deep long-lingering knell.

And at evening evermore,
In a Chapel on the shore,
Shall the Chaunters sad and saintly,
Yellow tapers burning faintly,
Doleful Masses chaunt for thee,
Miserere Domine!

Hush! the cadence dies away
On the quiet moonlight sea:

No cloud, no relic of the sunken day
Distinguishes the west, no long thin slip
Of sullen light, no obscure trembling hues.
Come, we will rest on this old mossy bridge.
You see the glimmer of the stream beneath
But hear no murmuring: it flows silently
O'er its soft bed of verdure. All is still,
A balmy night, and though the stars be dim
Yet let us think upon the vernal showers
That gladden the green earth, and we shall find
A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.
And hark, the nightingale begins its song —

No cloud, no relic of the sunken day
Distinguishes the west, no long thin slip
Of sullen light, no obscure trembling hues.
Come, we will rest on this old mossy bridge.
You see the glimmer of the stream beneath
But hear no murmuring: it flows silently
O'er its soft bed of verdure. All is still,
A balmy night, and though the stars be dim
Yet let us think upon the vernal showers
That gladden the green earth, and we shall find
A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.
And hark, the nightingale begins its song —

FROM BOCCACE

While Norman Tancred in Salerno reign'd,
The title of a gracious prince he gain'd;
Till, turn'd a tyrant in his latter days,
He lost the luster of his former praise;
And, from the bright meridian where he stood
Descending, dipp'd his hands in lovers' blood.
This prince, of Fortune's favor long possess'd,
Yet was with one fair daughter only blest;
And blest he might have been with her alone:
But O! how much more happy had he none!

OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE

The day approach'd when Fortune should decide
Th' important enterprise, and give the bride;
For now the rivals round the world had sought,
And each his number, well appointed, brought.
The nations, far and near, contend in choice,
And send the flow'r of war by public voice;
That after, or before, were never known
Such chiefs, as each an army seem'd alone.
Beside the champions, all of high degree
Who knighthood lov'd, and deeds of chivalry,