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Updated: June 5, 2025
The one assured immortal among these musical mortalities is Nicolas Saboly: who was born in Monteux, close by Avignon, in the year 1614; who for the greater part of his life was chapel-master and organist of the Avignon church of St. Pierre; who died in the year 1675; and who lies buried in the choir of the church which for so long he filled with his own heaven-sweet harmonies.
Ah, if all had been but as it might have been, for there were the fair grey towers of Camylott rising before him, and he was riding homeward and, oh, God, if he had been riding home to the arms of the most heaven-sweet woman in the world heaven-sweet not for her mere loveliness' sake, but because she was to him as Eve had been to Adam the one woman God had made.
But might I, fed with silent meditation, Assoiled live from that fiend Occupation Improbus labor, which my spirits hath broke I'd drink of time's rich cup, and never surfeit Fling in more days than went to make the gem That crowned the white top of Methusalem Yea on my weak neck take, and never forfeit, Like Atlas bearing up the dainty sky, The heaven-sweet burthen of eternity.
The place toward which we tend is at some little distance, and our road thither leads through all manner of comely rustic places, flowered fields, where the buttercups crowd their little varnished cups, and the vigilant ox-eyes are already wakefully staring up from among the grass-spears; a little wood; a deep and ruddy-colored lane, along whose unpruned hedges straggle the riches of the wild-rose, most delicately flushed, as if God in passing had called her very good, and she had reddened at his praise; where the honey-suckle, too, is holding stilly aloft the open cream-colored trumpets and closed red trumpet-buds of her heaven-sweet crown.
And in the midst of the crowd, or in England's green lanes, or on some far shore, the wanderer is caught in the old mesh suddenly, and all his pulses beat with swift longing at just that heaven-sweet impression: "The hazy blue of her mountains, the waft of the veldt-born scent...."
"Please!" she closed her eyes as she entreated. "It's for a long time always." His voice was heaven-sweet with its note of warning and he laid his other strong warm hand on her throat where a controlled sob made it pulse. "I'm being very patient," she whispered and her lips quivered with a smile as two tears jeweled her black lashes.
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