Then shall the horrid pall
     Be lifted, and a spirit nigh divine,
     ‘Live in thy offspring as I live in mine,’
     Will hear her call.

     XXXIX

     Whence looks he on a land
     Whereon his labour is a carven page;
     And forth from heritage to heritage
     Nought writ on sand.

     XL

     His fables of the Above,
     And his gapped readings of the crown and sword,
     The hell detested and the heaven adored,
     The hate, the love,

     XLI

     The bright wing, the black hoof,
     He shall peruse, from Reason not disjoined,
     And never unfaith clamouring to be coined
     To faith by proof.

     XLII

     She her just Lord may view,
     Not he, her creature, till his soul has yearned
     With all her gifts to reach the light discerned
     Her spirit through.

     XLIIII

     Then in him time shall run
     As in the hour that to young sunlight crows;
     And—­’If thou hast good faith it can repose,’
     She tells her son.

     XLIV

     Meanwhile on him, her chief
     Expression, her great word of life, looks she;
     Twi-minded of him, as the waxing tree,
     Or dated leaf.

     A ballad of fair ladies in revolt

     I

     See the sweet women, friend, that lean beneath
     The ever-falling fountain of green leaves
     Round the white bending stem, and like a wreath
     Of our most blushful flower shine trembling through,
     To teach philosophers the thirst of thieves: 
     Is one for me? is one for you?

     II

— Fair sirs, we give you welcome, yield you place, And you shall choose among us which you will, Without the idle pastime of the chase, If to this treaty you can well agree:  To wed our cause, and its high task fulfil.  He who’s for us, for him are we!

     III

— Most gracious ladies, nigh when light has birth, A troop of maids, brown as burnt heather-bells, And rich with life as moss-roots breathe of earth In the first plucking of them, past us flew To labour, singing rustic ritornells:  Had they a cause? are they of you?

     IV

— Sirs, they are as unthinking armies are To thoughtful leaders, and our cause is theirs.  When they know men they know the state of war:  But now they dream like sunlight on a sea, And deem you hold the half of happy pairs.  He who’s for us, for him are we!

     V

— Ladies, I listened to a ring of dames; Judicial in the robe and wig; secure As venerated portraits in their frames; And they denounced some insurrection new Against sound laws which keep you good and pure.  Are you of them? are they of you?

     VI

— Sirs, they are of us, as their dress denotes, And by as much:  let them together chime:  It is an ancient bell within their throats, Pulled by an aged ringer; with what glee Befits the yellow yesterdays of time.  He who’s for us, for him are we!

     VII