THE END.

APPENDIX

Here are the two poems of Lord Alfred Douglas which were read out in Court, on account of which the prosecution sought to incriminate Oscar Wilde.  My readers can judge for themselves the value of any inference to be drawn from such work by another hand.  To me, I must confess, the poems themselves seem harmless and pretty—­I had almost said, academic and unimportant.

TWO LOVES

TO “THE SPHINX”

Two loves I have of comfort and despair
That like two spirits do suggest me still,
My better angel is a man right fair,
My worse a woman tempting me to ill.—­Shakespeare.

I dreamed I stood upon a little hill,
And at my feet there lay a ground, that seemed
Like a waste garden, flowering at its will
With flowers and blossoms.  There were pools that dreamed
Black and unruffled; there were white lilies
A few, and crocuses, and violets
Purple or pale, snake-like fritillaries
Scarce seen for the rank grass, and through green nets
Blue eyes of shy pervenche winked in the sun. 
And there were curious flowers, before unknown,
Flowers that were stained with moonlight, or with shades
Of Nature’s wilful moods; and here a one
That had drunk in the transitory tone
Of one brief moment in a sunset; blades
Of grass that in an hundred springs had been
Slowly but exquisitely nurtured by the stars,
And watered with the scented dew long cupped
In lilies, that for rays of sun had seen
Only God’s glory, for never a sunrise mars
The luminous air of heaven.  Beyond, abrupt,
A gray stone wall, o’ergrown with velvet moss
Uprose.  And gazing I stood long, all mazed
To see a place so strange, so sweet, so fair. 
And as I stood and marvelled, lo! across
The garden came a youth, one hand he raised
To shield him from the sun, his wind-tossed hair
Was twined with flowers, and in his hand he bore
A purple bunch of bursting grapes, his eyes
Were clear as crystal, naked all was he,
White as the snow on pathless mountains frore,
Red were his lips as red wine-spilth that dyes
A marble floor, his brow chalcedony. 
And he came near me, with his lips uncurled
And kind, and caught my hand and kissed my mouth,
And gave me grapes to eat, and said, “Sweet friend,
Come, I will show thee shadows of the world
And images of life.  See, from the south
Comes the pale pageant that hath never an end.” 
And lo! within the garden of my dream
I saw two walking on a shining plain
Of golden light.  The one did joyous seem
And fair and blooming, and a sweet refrain
Came from his lips; he sang of pretty maids
And joyous love of comely girl and boy;
His eyes were bright, and ’mid the dancing blades
Of golden grass his feet did trip for joy.