Dramatic Lyrics.
149
Rescue me thou, the only real!
And scare away this mad Ideal
That came, nor motions to depart!
Thanks! Now, stay ever as thou art!
And scare away this mad Ideal
That came, nor motions to depart!
Thanks! Now, stay ever as thou art!
ix.
1.
He and the Couple catch at last
Thy serenader; while there's cast
Paul's cloak about my head, and fast
Gian pinions me, Himself has past
His stylet thro' my back; I reel;
And . . . is it Thee I feel?
1.
He and the Couple catch at last
Thy serenader; while there's cast
Paul's cloak about my head, and fast
Gian pinions me, Himself has past
His stylet thro' my back; I reel;
And . . . is it Thee I feel?
2.
They trail me, these three godless knaves,
Past every church that sains and saves,
Nor stop till, where the cold sea raves
By Lido's wet accursed graves,
They scoop mine, roll me to its brink,
And . . . on Thy breast I sink!
They trail me, these three godless knaves,
Past every church that sains and saves,
Nor stop till, where the cold sea raves
By Lido's wet accursed graves,
They scoop mine, roll me to its brink,
And . . . on Thy breast I sink!
x.
Dip your arm o'er the boat-side elbow-deep
As I do: thus: were Death so unlike Sleep,
Caught this way? Death's to fear from flame or steel
Or poison doubtless, but from water—feel!
Dip your arm o'er the boat-side elbow-deep
As I do: thus: were Death so unlike Sleep,
Caught this way? Death's to fear from flame or steel
Or poison doubtless, but from water—feel!
Go find the bottom! Would you stay me? There!
Now pluck a great blade of that ribbon-grass
To plait in where the foolish jewel was,
I flung away: since you have praised my hair
'Tis proper to be choice in what I wear.
Now pluck a great blade of that ribbon-grass
To plait in where the foolish jewel was,
I flung away: since you have praised my hair
'Tis proper to be choice in what I wear.
149
