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"When joy no longer soothes or cheers, And e'en the hope that threw A moment's sparkle o'er our tears Is dimmed and vanished, too, Oh, who would bear life's stormy doom, Did not Thy wing of Love Come, brightly wafting through the gloom Our Peace-branch from above? Then sorrow, touched by Thee, grows bright With more than rapture's ray As darkness shows us worlds of light We never saw by day."
Just then, in the sunset, she was sitting on deck, singing under her breath and looking absently away to the Gardens across the Lake. I could catch the words here and there, and knew them. "Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar, Where are you now who lies beneath your spell? Whom do you lead on Rapture's roadway far, Before you agonize them in farewell?" "Don't!" I said abruptly. It stung me.
I did not know, then. Their rapture's warmth did not cool. Their love burned with increasing brightness. Never was there anything like it. The time passed, the months, the years, and ever the flame-winged lute-player grew more resplendent. "Everybody marvelled. They became the wonderful lovers, and they were greatly envied.
"And they were right, as far as they went. Everything is good... as long as it is unpossessed. Satiety and possession are Death's horses; they run in span. "'And time could only tutor us to eke Our rapture's warmth with custom's afterglow. "They got that from a sonnet of Alfred Austin's. It was called 'Love's Wisdom. It was the one kiss of Madeline de Maupin. How did it run?
"Meanwhile that devil-may-care, the bobolink, Remembering duty, in mid-quaver stops Just ere he sweeps o'er rapture's tremulous brink, And 'twixt the winrows most demurely drops."
The gen'rous Flock reward their Pastor's care, His Pray'rs, his Wants, his Happiness they share Retir'd from worldly Care, from Noise and Strife, In sacred Thoughts and Deeds, he spends his Life, To mo'drate Bounds, his Wishes he confines, All views of Grandeur, Pow'r and Wealth resigns, With Pomp and Pride can cheerfully dispense, Dead to the World, and empty Joys of Sense, The Symphony of heav'nly Song he hears, Celestial Concord vibrates on his Ears., Which emulates the Music of the Spheres The Band of active Youths and Virgins fan, Rank'd in due Order, by their Teacher's Care, The Sight of all Beholders gratify, Sweet to the Soul, and pleasing to the Eye But when their Voices found in Songs, of Praise, When they to God's high Throne their Anthems raise, By these harmonious Sounds, such Rapture's giv'n, Their loud Hosannas waft the Soul to Heav'n: The fourfold Parts in one bright Center meet, To form the blessed Harmony complete.
"Remembering duty, in mid-quaver stops, Just ere he sweeps o'er rapture's tremulous brink, And 'twixt the winrows most demurely drops, A decorous bird of business, who provides For his brown mate and fledglings six besides, And looks from right to left, a farmer mid his crops." Nothing less attractive than a cardinal family could draw me away from these rival allurements, but I went on.
My brother Revels in glad surprise, and from his breast Instinct with strange new-felt emotions, pours The tide of joy; but mine no hate came with me, Forgot the very spring of mutual strife! High o'er this earthly sphere, on rapture's wings, My spirit floats; and in the azure sea, Above beneath no track of envious night Disturbs the deep serene!
Certain it was that there was no more of the old exultation about his heart that had formed so large a part of his former courtship; there were no extravagances, no quickened pulses rapture's warmth had yielded to the mildest of after-glows; but there was no reason that it should not prove as satisfactory in the long run.
True, I have sworn a solemn vow have sworn, That I myself will curb the self within; Yet take thy wreath, no more it shall be worn Take back thy wreath, and leave me free to sin. Rent be the contract I with thee once made; She loves me, loves me forfeit be the crown! Blessed he who, lulled in rapture's dreamy shade, Glides, as I glide, the deep fall gladly down.
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