name? This scourge, this hour, is this indeed the worst? O clothed and crowned with curses, canst thou tell? Have thy dead whispered to thee what they see Whose eyes are open in the dark on thee Ere spotted soul and body take farewell Or what of life beyond the worm's may be Satiate the immitigable hours in hell? 1870. 

      XVI THE DESCENT INTO HELL January 9th, 1873 1 O Night and death, to whom we grudged him then, When in man's sight he stood not yet undone, Your king, your priest, your saviour, and your son, We grudge not now, who know that not again      Shall this curse come upon the sins of men, Nor this face look upon the living sun That shall behold not so abhorred an one In all the days whereof his eye takes ken. The bond is cancelled, and the prayer is heard That seemed so long but weak and wasted breath; Take him, for he is yours, O night and death. Hell yawns on him whose life was as a word Uttered by death in hate of heaven and light, A curse now dumb upon the lips of night. 

      2 What shapes are these and shadows without end That fill the night full as a storm of rain With myriads of dead men and women slain, Old with young, child with mother, friend with friend, That on the deep mid wintering air impend, Pale yet with mortal wrath and human pain, Who died that this man dead now too might reign, Toward whom their hands point and their faces bend? The ruining flood would redden earth and air If for each soul whose guiltless blood was shed There fell but one drop on this one man's head Whose soul to-night stands bodiless and bare, For whom our hearts give thanks who put up prayer, That we have lived to say, The dog is dead. 

      XVII APOLOGIA 

      If wrath embitter the sweet mouth of song, And make the sunlight fire before those eyes That would drink draughts of peace from the unsoiled skies, The wrongdoing is not ours, but ours the wrong, Who hear too loud on earth and see too long The grief that dies not with the groan that dies, Till the strong bitterness of pity cries Within us, that our anger should be strong. For chill is known by heat and heat by chill, And the desire that hope makes love to still By the fear flying beside it or above, A falcon fledged to follow a fledgeling dove, And by the fume and flame of hate of ill The exuberant light and 

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