“Vainly I left my angel-sphere,
Vain was thy dream of many a year.

“Thy voice’s praise seemed weak; it dropped—­
Creation’s chorus stopped!

“Go back and praise again
The early way, while I remain. 70

“With that weak voice of our disdain,
Take up creation’s pausing strain.

“Back to the cell and poor employ: 
Resume the craftsman and the boy!”

Theocrite grew old at home;
A new Pope dwelt in Peter’s dome.

One vanished as the other died: 
They sought God side by side.

Notes:  “The Boy and the Angel.”  An imaginary legend illustrating the worth of humble, human love to God, who missed in the praise of the Pope, Theocrite, and of the Angel Gabriel, the precious human quality in the song of the poor boy, Theocrite.

INSTANS TYRANNUS

I

Of the million or two, more or less
I rule and possess,
One man, for some cause undefined,
Was least to my mind.

II

I struck him, he grovelled of course—­
For, what was his force? 
I pinned him to earth with my weight
And persistence of hate: 
And he lay, would not moan, would not curse,
As his lot might be worse. 10

III

“Were the object less mean, would he stand
At the swing of my hand! 
For obscurity helps him and blots
The hole where he squats.” 
So, I set my five wits on the stretch
To inveigle the wretch. 
All in vain!  Gold and jewels I threw,
Still he couched there perdue;
I tempted his blood and his flesh,
Hid in roses my mesh, 20
Choicest cates and the flagon’s best spilth: 
Still he kept to his filth.

IV

Had he kith now or kin, were access
To his heart, did I press: 
Just a son or a mother to seize! 
No such booty as these. 
Were it simply a friend to pursue
’Mid my million or two,
Who could pay me in person or pelf
What he owes me himself! 30
No:  I could not but smile through my chafe: 
For the fellow lay safe
As his mates do, the midge and the nit,
—­Through minuteness, to wit.

V

Then a humour more great took its place
At the thought of his face,
The droop, the low cares of the mouth,
The trouble uncouth
’Twixt the brows, all that air one is fain
To put out of its pain. 40
And, “no!” I admonished myself,
“Is one mocked by an elf,
Is one baffled by toad or by rat?