is my body. I will return to the halls of the flowing, Of the truth of the children of Ashu. I, even I, am he who knoweth the roads Of the sky, and the wind thereof is my body. LI BEL CHASTEUS That castle stands the highest in the land Far seen and mighty. Of the great hewn stones What shall I say? And deep foss way That far beneath us bore of old A swelling turbid sea Hill-born and tumultuous Unto the fields below, where Staunch villein and Burgher held the land and tilled Long labouring for gold of wheat grain And to see the beards come forth For barley's even time. But archèd high above the curl of life We dwelt amid the ancient boulders, Gods had hewn and druids turned Unto that birth most wondrous, that had grown A mighty fortress while the world had slept, And we awaited in the shadows there When mighty hands had laboured sightlessly And shaped this wonder 'bove the ways of men. Me seems we could not see the great green waves Nor rocky shore by Tintagoel From this our hold, But came faint murmuring as undersong, E'en as the burghers' hum arose And died as faint wind melody Beneath our gates. PRAYER FOR HIS LADY'S LIFE FROM PROPERTIUS, ELEGIAE, LIB. III, 26 Here let thy clemency, Persephone, hold firm, Do thou, Pluto, bring here no greater harshness. So many thousand beauties are gone down to Avernus Ye might let one remain above with us. With you is Iope, with you the white-gleaming Tyro, With you is Europa and the shameless Pasiphae, And all the fair from Troy and all from Achaia, From the sundered realms, of Thebes and of aged Priamus; And all the maidens of Rome, as many as they were, They died and the greed of your flame consumes them. Here let thy clemency, Persephone, hold firm, Do thou, Pluto, bring here no greater harshness. So many thousand fair are gone down to Avernus, Ye might let one remain above with us. SPEECH FOR PSYCHE IN THE GOLDEN BOOK OF APULEIUS All night, and as the wind lieth among The cypress trees, he lay, Nor held me save as air that brusheth by one Close, and as the petals of flowers in falling Waver and seem not drawn to earth, so he Seemed over me to hover light as leaves And closer me than air, And music flowing through me seemed to open Mine eyes upon new colours. O winds, what wind can match the weight of him!    "BLANDULA, TENULLA, VAGULA."   What hast thou, O my soul, with paradise? Will we not rather, when our freedom's won, Get us to some clear place wherein the sun Lets drift in on us through the olive leaves A liquid glory? If at Sirmio My soul, I meet thee, when this life's outrun, Will we not find some headland consecrated By aery apostles of terrene delight, Will not our cult be founded on the waves, Clear sapphire, cobalt, cyanine, On triune azures, the impalpable Mirrors unstill of 

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