Poems and Sonnets (Fitzwilliam Museum bound volume of miscellaneous poems) Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1 Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge Poems and Sonnets DGR 1848-1881 various 76 leaves Each original manuscript leaf is fixed to a page in the bound volume. The Fitzwilliam Museum Originally constructed from DGR's loose manuscripts by Charles Fairfax Murray, who gifted the book to the Fitzwilliam Museum. Green leather laid white J WHATMAN1884 Murray's notebook houses DGR's original manuscripts, which are glued down to the notebook pages. Commentary
Introduction

Many of the texts in this volume were originally printer's copy for various 1869 proof states set up for the 1870 <hi rend="i">Poems</hi> . They subsequently came into Charles Fairfax Murray's possession, and he arranged them in this bound volume with some thought, not rigorously pursued, to reflect the 1881 volume of <hi rend="i">Poems. A New Edition</hi> .

Fairfax Murray's arrangement of the final pages in this volume are problematic, especially as his choices often confuse the relationship between DGR's later additions to the poems and their insertion points. The edition presented here returns the manuscript pages to an arrangement which respects their grammatical sequence.

 18 x 11 cm. unlined laid white none <hi rend="u">Advertisement</hi> DGR decided against including this advertisement in his 1881 <hi rend="i">Poems. A New Edition</hi> .

“Many poems in this volume were written between 1847 & 1853. Others are of recent date, and a few belong to the intervening per intervening period. It has been thought unnec- cessary to specify the earlier work, as nothing is included which the author believes to be immature.”

The above/Such was the The above brief note was prefixed to these poems when first published in 1870. After several editions they have now been for some time out of print.

The fifty sonnets of the House of Life which first appeared here are now embodied in within the full series in the volume entitled “Ballads & Sonnets”.

It is not unlikely that some may be offended displeased at seeing the addition here made thus late for the ballad “Sister Helen”. My The writer's best excuse is the belief that others will consider with my himself how such a climax failed to enter into his first conception.

The fragment of The Bride's Prelude, now first printed, was written abo earlier than almost anything in the present volume. There may perhaps be readers not unwilling to have it preserved; though its appearance in an unfinishedstate needs some indulgence.

 22.1 x 17.4 cm. lined laid white none 1 Pagination in upper right, might not be DGR <del>Her</del> <add>The</add> Portrait Her portrait looks [?] unnatural /seems a miracle This is her portrait as she was: As strange a It seems a thing useless[?] to wonder on, Than if As though mine image in the glass Should tarry when myself am gone. While her mere semblance (I would say) Has for its home from, May to May, This pleasant place made Her very bower still sweet for me Wherein I see and hear With many thoughts of her, is she In the dark always, deaf with clay? She stands there painted among trees 'Twas well to paint her dear lost The Her portrait shrines her sweet still face Between whose growth of mystic [?] Through whose thick tops the light falls in Now among trees where Mid In mystic leaves where light falls in Hardly at all; a covert place Where you might think to find a din Of doubtful talk, and a live flame Wandering, and many a shape whose name Not itself knoweth, and old dew, And silent faces breathless marvels meeting you, And all things going as they came. These two stanzas, marked for insertion on the next page, are additions made while this text was in process. It is herself. Even so she stood. That Such was the place; and there she stands That within that grove As in that grove that place that day. At last Such Thus was the movement of her hands was so And so thus the carriage of her waist. And passing fair the type must seem, Unknown the presence & the dream. 'Tis she: though of herself, alas! Less than her shadow on the grass Or than her image in the stream. 'Twas there we wandered, all that day That day we passed there, I and she One with the other all alone; And we were blithe; yet memory Saddens those hours, as when the moon Looks upon daylight. And with her I stooped to drink the spring-water, Athirst where other waters sprang: And where the echo is, she sang,— My soul another echo there. All yesternight That face/Her soul was with me yestereve Last night at last I would could have slept, And I yet delayed my sleep till dawn, Still wandering. Then at last it was I wept: For unawares I came upon That shade wood where then she would walk walked with me: And as I stood there suddenly, All wan with traversing the night, Upon the desolate verge of light Yearned loud the iron-bosomed sea. Even so, where Heaven most deep appears holds breath & hears Ah! there where in the inner Heaven The ecstasy broods holiest And the/ And The beating heart in its own breast, And Where round the secret of the light all spheres All angels lay their wings to rest, How stood her spirit/sweet soul new life hushed and awed, When, having borne its song joy abroad Throughout the music of the suns, It comes into some place at once And knew the silence there for God! Here with her portrait oft/will I let me sit Past noon into the day's decline, blank page Till all grows awful through the room Till other eyes more awful shall look from it, As it includes a/ [?] Eyes of the spirit's Palestine,— Calmer, more silent/awful, holier Even in Love's [?] sweetness tenderer Then shall the hopes and [?] long lost with her Stand round her image side by side, Like tombs of pilgrims that have died About the Holy Sepulchre. blank page 22.1 x 17.7 cm. lined laid white none 4 Pagination in upper right, not be DGR The Portrait This is her portrait as she was: It seems a thing to wonder on, As though mine image in the glass Should tarry when myself am gone. I gaze until she seems to stir,— Until mine eyes almost aver That now, even now, the sweet lips part To breathe the words of the sweet heart:— And yet the earth is over her. Her picture has enshrined In painting this her, I shrined her face 'Mid mystic trees, where light falls in Hardly at all; a covert place Where you might think to find a din Of doubtful talk, and a live flame Wandering, and many a shape whose name Not itself knoweth, and old dew, And your own footsteps meeting you, And all things going as they came. blank page 42/5 Two numbers in upper right hand corner, the “42” perhaps autograph A sweet deep dim place wood; and there she stands As in that place wood that day. At least, Thus was the movement of her hands And thus the carriage of her waist. And passing fair the type must seem, Unknown the presence and the dream. 'Tis she: though of herself, alas! Less than her shadow on the grass Or than her image in the stream. That day we met there, I and she One with the other all alone; And we were blithe; yet memory Saddens those hours, as when the moon Looks upon daylight. And with her I stooped to drink the spring-water, Athirst where other waters sprang: And where the echo is, she sang,— My soul another echo there. blank page 6 Non-autograph number in upper right hand corner. Last night at last I could have slept, And yet delayed my sleep till dawn Still wandering. Then it was I wept: For unawares I came upon Those glades where then she walked with me: And as I stood there suddenly, All wan with traversing the night, Upon the desolate verge of light Yearned loud the iron-bosomed sea. Even so, where Heaven holds breath & hears The beating heart of Love's own breast, Where round the Secret of all spheres All angels lay their wings to rest, How shall my soul stand rapt and awed, When, by the new birth borne abroad Throughout the music of the suns, It enters in her soul's love at once And knows the radiance/presence silence there for God! blank page 7 Pagination in upper right, not be DGR Here with her face doth memory sit Meanwhile, and wait the day's decline, Till other eyes shall look from it, Eyes of the spirit's Palestine, Even than the old gaze tenderer: While hopes and aims long lost with her Stand round her image side by side, Like tombs of pilgrims that have died About the Holy Sepulchre. blank page 45/8 Two numbers written in upper right corner, the “45” possibly autograph 22.1 x 17.9 cm. lined laid white none The Sea-Limits Consider the sea's listless chime: Time's self it is, made audible,— The murmur of the earth's own shell. Secret continuance sublime Is the sea's end: our sight may pass No furlong further. Since time was, This sound hath told the lapse of time. No quiet, which is death's,—it hath The mournfulness of ancient life, Enduring always at dull strife. As the world's heart of rest and wrath, Its painful pulse is in the sands. Last utterly, the whole sky stands, Grey and not known, along its path. Listen alone beside the sea, Listen alone among the woods; Those voices of twin solitudes Shall have one sound alike to thee: blank page 46/9 Two numbers written in upper right corner, the “46” possibly autograph Listen Hark where the murmurs of thronged men Surge and sink back and surge again,— Still the one voice of wave and tree. Gather a shell from the strown beach And listen at its lips: they sigh The same desire and mystery, The echo of the whole sea's speech. And all mankind is thus at heart Not anything but what thou art: And Earth, Sea, Man, are all in each. blank page 51/10/16 Three numbers written in upper right corner, the “51” possibly autograph Kelley Compositor's name in upper left corner, added by F.S. Ellis or his surrogate. 21.8 x 17.6 cm lined laid white B & HSUPERFINEKENT Nocturn Master of the murmuring courts Where the shapes of sleep convene,— When among thy dim resorts This my soul in dreams hath been, What of her whom it hath seen? No reports From thy those jealous courts I glean. There the dreams are multitudes: Some whose bouyance waits not sleep, Deep within the August woods; Some that hum while rest may steep Weary labour laid a-heap; Interludes, Some, of grievous moods that weep. Youth's warm fancies all are there: Those Thence are youth's warm fancies: there Women fill thrill with whisperings Valleys full of plaintive air; There breathes perfumes; there in rings Whirl the foam-bewildered springs; Syren there Winds her dizzy hair and sings. blank page 52/11 Two numbers written in upper right corner, the “52” possibly autograph Thence the one dream mutually Dream'd in bridal unison, Less than waking ecstasy; Half-formed visions that make moan In the house of birth alone; And what we At death's wicket see, unknown — Reft of her, m But for mine own sleep, it lies In one gracious form's control, Fair with honorable eyes, Lamps of an implicit auspicious soul: O their glance is bounteous dole, Sweet and wise, Wherein Love descries his goal. Reft of her, my dreams are all Clammy trance that fears the sky: Changing footpaths shift and fall; From polluted coverts nigh, Miserable phantoms sigh; Quakes the pall, And the funeral goes by. blank page 2 Pagination in upper right, not be DGR As, since man waxed deathly wise, Secret somewhere on this earth Unpermitted Eden lies,— So within the world's wide girth Hides she from my spirit's dearth,— Paradise Of a love that cries for birth. Master, it is soothly said That, as echoes of man's speech Far in secret clefts are made,— So do all men's bodies reach Shadows o'er thy sunken beach,— Shape or shade In those halls pourtrayed of each? Ah! might I, by thy good grace Groping in the windy stair, (Darkness and the breath of space Like loud waters everywhere,) Meeting mine own image there Face to face, Send it from that place to her! blank page This page is cut short, its final stanza being thus excised. Fairfax Murray has copied the stanza into the book manuscript page. 53/13 Two numbers written in upper right corner, the “53” possibly autograph Nay, not I; but oh! do thou, Master, from thy shadowkind Call my body's phantom now: Bid it bear its face declin'd Till its flight her slumbers find, And her brow Feel its presence bow like wind. Where in groves the gracile Spring Trembles, with mute orison Confidently strengthening, Water's voice and wind's as one Shed an echo in the sun, Soft as Spring, Master, bid it Let mine image Master, bid it sing and moan. Song shall tell how glad and strong Is the night she soothes alway; Moan shall grieve with that parched tongue Of the brazen hours of day: Sounds as of the springtide they, Moan and song, While the chill months long for May. blank page 54/14 Two numbers written in upper right corner, the “54” possibly autograph Not the prayers which with all leave The world's fluent woes prefer,— Not the praise the world doth give, Dulcet fulsome whisperer;— Let it yield man's love to her, And achieve Strength that shall not grieve or err. Wheresoe'er my sleep befall may fall, Both at night-time watch, (let it say,) And where round the sundial The reluctant hours of day, Heartless, hopeless of their way, Rest and call,— Craving conduct, There her glance doth fall all astray,— Suddenly her face is there. So do mounting vapours wreathe Subtle-scented transports where The black [hill?] firwood sets its teeth. Part the boughs and look beneath,— Lilies share Secret waters there, and breathe. blank page 55/15 Two numbers written in upper right corner, the “55” possibly autograph Master, bid my shadow bend Whispering thus till birth of light, Lest new shapes that sleep may send Scatter all its work to flight;— Master, master of the night, Bid it spend Speech, song, prayer, and end aright. Yet, ah me! if at her head There another phantom lean Murmuring o'er the fragrant bed, And Ah! and if my spirit's sleeping queen Smile those others' speech those alien words between,— Ah! poor shade! Shall it strive, or fade unseen? Like a vapour wan and mute, Like a flame, so let it pass; One low sigh across her lute, One dull breath against her glass; And to my sad soul, alas! One salute Cold as when death's foot shall pass. blank page 56/16 Two numbers written in upper right corner, the “56” possibly autograph. But from old time, life, not death, Master, in thy rule is rife: Lo! through thee, with mingling breath, Adam woke beside his wife. O Love bring me so, for strife, Force and faith, Bring me so not death but life! Yea, to Love himself is pour'd This frail song of hope and fear. Thou art Love, of one accord With kind Sleep to bring her here, Still-eyed, deep-eyed, ah how dear! Master, Lord, In her name implor'd, O hear! <del>Bridal Birthdays</del> <add>Bridal Birth</add> The cancelled alternative lines 12-13 are scripted at the bottom of the page. As when desire, long darkling, dawns, and first The mother looks upon the newborn child, Even so my Lady stood at gaze and smiled When her soul knew at length the Love it nursed. Born with her life, creature of poignant thirst And exquisite hunger, at her heart Love lay Quickening in darkness, till a voice that day Cried on him, and the bonds of birth were burst. Now, shielded in his wings, our faces yearn Together, as his fullgrown feet now range Above us The grove, and his kind warm hands our couch prepare: Till our united clinging to his song our bodiless souls in turn Be born his children, as/when the shadowy when Death's bridal nuptial change Leaves us for last light the halo of his hair. Until to his last song our souls in turn Be born his bodiless children when the change &c. 7 Pagination in upper right, not by DGR 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE Penumbra I did not look upon her eyes, (Though scarcely seen, with no surprise, 'Mid many eyes a single look,) Because they should not gaze rebuke, To-night Thenceforth, from stars in sky and brook. I did not take her by the hand, (Though little was to understand From touch of hand all friends might take,) Because it should not prove a flake Burnt in my palm to boil and ache. I did not listen to her voice, (Though none had noted, where at choice All might rejoice in listening,) Because no such a thing should cling In the sea-wind at evening. blank page 18 Pagination in upper right, not be DGR For footnote see overpage DGR's note to the printer; the note to the poem is on the verso of this page. 17.7 x 11 unlined laid white Troy Town Helen knelt at Venus' shrine, (O Troy Town!) Saying, “A little gift is mine, A little gift for a heart's desire. Hear me speak and give make me a sign! (O Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) “Look, I bring thee a carven cup; (O Troy Town!) See it here as I hold it up,— Shaped it is to the heart's desire, Fit to fill when the gods would sup. (O Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) “It was moulded like my breast; (O Troy Town!) He that sees it may not rest, Rest at all for the his heart's desire, O give ear to my heart's request behest! (O Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!)

*Herodotus says that Helen presented offered in the temple of Venus a cup made in the likeness of her own bosom.

Received stanza 6 appears here as an addition. “Yea, for my bosom here I sue; (O Troy Town!) Thou must give it where 'tis due, Give it there to the heart's desire. Whom do I give my bosom to? (O Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) “See my breast, how like it is; (O Troy Town!) See it bare for the air to kiss! Is the cup to thy heart's desire? O the breast let Love make his! O for the breast, O make it his! (O Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) “Lo! each Each twin breast is an apple sweet! (O Troy Town!) Once an apple stirred the beat Of thy heart with the heart's desire:— Say, who brought it then to thy feet? (O Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) “They that claimed it then were three: (O Troy Town!) For thy sake two hearts did he Make forlorn of the heart's desire. Do for him as he did for thee! (O Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) blank page “Mine are apples grown to the south, (O Troy Town!) Grown to taste in the days of drouth, Taste and waste to the heart's desire: Mine are apples meet for his mouth!” (O Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) Venus looked on Helen's gift, (O Troy Town!) Looked and smiled with subtle drift, Knew Saw the work of her heart's desire:— “There thou kneel'st for Love to lift!” (O Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) Venus looked in Helen's face, (O Troy Town!) Knew far off an hour and place,— Fire/Fire And fire lit from the heart's desire; Laughed and said, “Thy gift hath grace!” (O Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) blank page Cupid looked on Helen's breast, (O Troy Town!) Saw the aching heart/[?] in aching heart its guest Saw the flame of the heart's desire; There his arrow stood confess'd. (O Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) Cupid took another dart, (O Troy Town!) Fledged it for another heart, Winged the shaft with the heart's desire, Drew the string and said, “Depart!” (O Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) Paris turned upon his bed, (O Troy Town!) Turned upon his bed and said, Dead at heart with the heart's desire,— “O to clasp her golden head!” (O Troy's down, Tall Troy's on fire!) blank page 9/22 Two numbers written in upper right corner, the “9” possibly autograph 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE The Woodspurge The wind flapped loose, the wind was still, Shaken out dead from tree and hill: I had [?] walked walked on at the wind's will,— I sat now, for the wind was still. Between my knees my forehead was,— My lips, drawn in, said not a Alas! My hair was over in the grass, My naked ears heard the day pass. Mine eyes, wide open, had the run Of some ten weeds to fix upon; Among the which, out of the sun, The woodspurge bloomed, three cups in one. From sharpest grief there need not be Knowledge or even memory: One thing then learnt remains to me,— The woodspurge has a cup of three. blank page 10/23 Two numbers written in upper right corner, the “10” possibly autograph 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE A Young Fir-Wood These little firs today are things To clasp into a giant's cap, Or fans to suit his lady's lap. From many winters many springs Shall cherish them in strength & sap, Till they be marked upon the map, A wood for the wind's wanderings. All seed is in the sower's hands: And what at first was trained to spread Its shelter for some single head,— Yea, even such fellowship of wands,— May hide the sunset, and the shade Of its great multitude be laid Upon the earth and elder sands. blank page 11/24 Two numbers written in upper right corner, the “11” possibly autograph 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE First Love Peace in her chamber, wheresoe'er It be, a holy place: The thought still brings my soul such grace As morning meadows wear. Whether it still be small and light, A maid's who dreams alone, As from her orchard-gate the moon Its ceiling showed at night: Or whether, in a shadow dense As nuptial hymns invoke, Innocent maidenhood awoke To married innocence: There still the thanks unheard await The unconscious gift bequeathed, And there my soul this hour has breathed An air inviolate. blank page 12/25 Two numbers written in upper right corner, the “12” possibly autograph 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE Even So. So it is, my dear. All such things touch secret strings For heavy hearts to hear. So it is, my dear. Very like indeed: Sea and sky, afar, on high, Sand and strewn seaweed,— Very like indeed. But the sea stands spread As one wall with the flat skies, Where the lean black craft like flies Seem well-nigh stagnated, Soon to drop off dead. Seemed it so to us When I was thine and thou wast mine, And all these things were thus, But all our world in us? Could we be so now? Not if all beneath heaven's pall Lay dead but I and thou, Could we be so now! ---------------- blank page 13/26 Two numbers written in upper right corner, the “13” possibly autograph 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE A Song & Music O leave thine hand where it lies cool Upon the eyes whose lids are hot: Its rosy shade is bountiful Of silence, and assuages thought. O lay thy lips against thine hand And let me feel thy breath through it, While through the sense thy song shall fit The soul to understand. The music lives upon my brain Between thine hands within mine eyes; It stirs thy lifted throat like pain, An aching pulse of melodies. Lean nearer, let the music pause: The soul may better understand Thy music, shadowed in thine hand, Now while the song withdraws. ---------------- blank page 14/27 Two numbers written in upper right corner, the “14” possibly autograph 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE <hi rend="u">An Old Song ended</hi> “How should I your true love know From another one?” “By his cockle-hat and staff And his sandal-shoon.” “And what signs have told you now That he hastens home?” “Lo! the Spring is nearly gone, He is nearly come.” “For a token is there nought, Say, that he should bring?” “He will bear a ring I gave And another ring.” “How may I, when he shall ask, Tell him who lies there?” “Nay, but leave my face unveiled And unbound my hair.” “Can you say to me some word I shall say to him?” “Say I'm looking in his eyes Though my eyes are dim.” blank page 15/28 Two numbers written in upper right corner, the “15” possibly autograph 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE <hi rend="u">To Mary in Summer</hi> Lay your head here, Mary, Lay your head here, While the warm grass, Mary, With timid voice and wary, Sings in your ear:— The grass which round us, Mary, Shuts like a nest; By your dear limbs, dear Mary, Lighter than limbs of Faëry, Daintily press'd. Back with it all though, Mary, Back and aside; For t The wind comes this way, Mary, And the tossed here the trees are airy And the skies are wide. Why so grave now, Mary, Bashful & grave, When fearless Summer, Mary, To grief doubt and gloom contrary, Leaps and is brave? blank page 29 Pagination in unknown hand in upper right corner. In the margin DGR calls for the reordering of stanzas 4, 5, and 6, numbering them here “3”, “1”, “2”. Your cheek is pale now, Mary, And red, by turns. Why should the hand be chary Of that to give which, Mary, The heart so yearns? What fear is in your eyes do your eyes fear, Mary, Tender So grave and soft? I love to see them, Mary, In whimsical vagary Lifted aloft. Alas Mary, Mary, Mary, Laugh in my face: You know now, my own Mary No eyes can laugh so rarely In any place Or grant such grace. Give me your hand, ah! Mary. Give me your hand: In city or in prairie There is none kinder whiter, Mary, From land to land. Your lips to my lips, Mary, Your lips to mine: High up in Hebe's dairy No milk so sweet, my Mary, On earth no wine. Lay your head here, Mary, Lay your head here; While my heart now, Mary, The pleasant tune to vary, Beats in your ear. These seem to be cancelled stanzas that DGR at one point thought to add to ”A New Year's Burden”. We made our nest so dim for bliss And shrank so from the prying sun: Why should we take the dark amiss Or mourn our daylight done? I merely, as the stream goes by, Can never No longer trace thy murmuring tone, And thou hast heard the soft wind sigh Nor claimed its called the voice mine own. Remember not thy &c Recall no more thy &c Hour missed therein thy &c 18/30 Two numbers written in upper right corner, the “17” possibly autograph 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE <hi rend="u">A Little While</hi> A little while a little love The hour yet bears for thee & me Who yet have not drawn no the veil to see If still our heaven be lit above. Thou merely, as at the chill day's last sigh, Hast felt thy soul prolong their moan the tone; And I have heard the night-wind cry And deemed its speech mine own. A little while a little love The scattering autumn hoards for us Whose bower is not yet ruinous Nor quite unleaved our songless grove. Only across the shaken boughs We hear the flood-tides seek the sea, And deep in both our hearts they rouse One wail for thee and me. A little while a little love May yet be ours who have not said The word it makes our eyes afraid To know that each is thinking of. Not yet the end: be our lips dumb In smiles a little season yet: I'll tell thee, when the end is come, How we may best forget. blank page 31 Pagination in unknown hand. 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE <hi rend="u">Love-Lily</hi> Between the brows, between the lips, Between the hands of Love-Lily, A spirit is born who ever clips My blood with fire and calls to me; Who breathes upon my gazing eyes, Who laughs and murmurs in mine ear, At whose least touch my colour flies, And whom my life grows faint to hear. Within the voice, within the heart, Within the soul of Love-Lily, A spirit is born who lifts apart His tremulous wings and looks at me; Who on my mouth his finger lays, And shows, while whispering lutes confer, That Eden of Love's watered ways Whose winds & spirits worship her. Brows, hands, & lips, heart, soul, & voice, Kisses and words of Love-Lily,— Oh! bid me with your joy rejoice Till riotous longing rest in me! Ah! let not life be still distraught, But find in her its gracious goal, Whose speech Truth knows not from her thought Nor Love her body from her soul. blank page 92 Numeration, possibly DGR's. 17.7 x 11.2 unlined laid white none A New Year's Burden The title is written above the manuscript by Charles Fairfax Murray. Along the grass sweet airs are blown Our way this day in Spring. Of all the songs that we have known Now which one shall we sing? Not that, my love, no, no,— Not this, my love? so, so,— Yet both were ours, but hours will come & go. The grove is all a light green mist, The year has seen the sun The new year sucks the sun The new year sucks the sun. Of all the kisses that we kiss'd, Now which shall be the one? Not that, my love, no, no,— Not this, my love, heigh ho,— For all the sweets that all the winds can blow. The boughs are dark above our eyes, The skies are in a net: And what's the thing beneath the skies We two would most forget? Not birth, my love, no, no,— Not death, my love, no, no,— Oh The love once ours, but ours so long hours ago. blank page 32 Numeration, possibly DGR's. 21.8 x 17.6 lined laid white B & HSUPER FINEKENT [with heraldic device] <del>Three Songs.</del> ------------------ <del>I. Belcolore</del> <add> <del>Song</del> A New Year's Burden</add> Along the grass sweet airs are blown Our way this day in Spring. Of all the songs that we have known Now which one shall we sing? Not that, my love, no, no, ah! no,— Not this, my love? so, so, why, so,— Yet both were ours, but hours will come & go. The grove is all a light/bright green pale, frail mist The new year sucks the sun! Of all the kisses that we kissed Now which shall be the one? Not that, my love, no, no, ah! no,— Not this, my love, heigh ho,— For all the sweets that all the winds can blow. The boughs are dark branches cross above our eyes, The skies are in a net: blank page 25/33/35 Numeration, with the number “25” possibly by DGR. And what's the thing beneath the skies We two would most forget? Not birth, my love, no, no,— Not death, my love, no, no,— The love once ours, but ours long hours ago. <del>II. Bellebuona</del> <del>From Aurora to Venus</del> <del>Luna & Venus</del> <del>Song</del> <add>The Moon-Star</add> In a soft-complexioned sky, Fleeting rose and kindling grey, Have you seen Aurora fly At the break of day? So my maiden, so my modest may Blushing cheek and gleaming eye Lifts to look my way. Where the inmost leaf is stirred With the heart-beat of the grove, Have you heard a hidden bird Cast her note above? So my lady, so my lovely love, blank page 21.8 x 17.6 lined laid white B & HSUPER FINEKENT [with heraldic device] 26/34/37 Numeration, with the number “26” possibly by DGR. Echoing Cupid's prompted word, Makes a tune thereof. Have you seen, at heaven's mid-height, In the moon-wrack's ebb and tide, Venus leap forth burning white, Luna pale and hide? So my bright breast-jewel, so my bride, One sweet night, when fear takes flight, Shall leap against my side. <del>III. Bocca Baciata</del> <del>The Bower's Song</del> <add>The Song of the Bower</add> Say, is it day, is it dusk in thy bower, Thou whom I long for, who longest for me? Oh! be it light, be it night, 'tis Love's hour, Love's that is fettered as Love's that is free. Free Love has leaped to that innermost chamber, Oh! the last time, and the hundred before: Fettered Love, motionless, can but remember, Yet something that sighs from him passes the door. blank page 21.8 x 17.6 lined laid white B & HSUPER FINEKENT [with heraldic device] 27/35/38 Numeration, with the number “27” possibly by DGR. What were my prize, could I enter thy bower, This day, tomorrow, at eve or at morn? Large lovely arms and a neck like a tower, Bosom then heaving that now lies forlorn. Deep in warm pillows, (the sun's bed is colder!) Thy sweetness all near me, so distant today; My hand round thy head neck & my thy hand on thy my shoulder, My mouth on to thy neck mouth as the world melts away. What is it keeps me afar from thy bower,— My spirit, my body, so fain to be there? Waters engulfing or fires that devour?— Earth heaped against me or death in the air? Nay, but in day-dreams, for terror, for pity, The trees wave their heads with an omen to tell; Nay, but in night-dreams, throughout the dark city, The hours, clashed together, lose count in the bell. Shall I not one day remember thy bower, One day when all days are one day to me?— Thinking, “I stirred not, & yet had the power,”— blank page 21.8 x 17.6 lined laid white B & HSUPER FINEKENT [with heraldic device] 28/36/39 Numeration, with the number “28” possibly by DGR. Yearning, “Ah God, if again it might be!” Peace, peace! such a small lamp illumes, on this highway, So dimly so few steps in front of my feet,— Yet shows me that her way is parted from my way! Out of sight, beyond light, at what point shall we meet? -------------- This transcript of DGR's Italian sonnet “Disio” is untitled. O bocca che nell' ora del disio Tante volte guardai e tenui pace, Che i tante spiriti dell'occhio tenace Baciar tuttora, e mai il labbro mio!— Ahi da te, bocca, che piacer vogl'io, O che speranza che non sia fallace? Qual tuo sorriso, dimmi se ti piace, E quai parole, per l'amor di Dio? Deh povera speranza! e come vuoi Raggiungere il piacer, con ale avorte, Alle gemelle sorrdenti porte? Ogni parola che verebbe poi Piu amorosa ahi piu saria per noi Radice del silenzio della morte! Marzo/68 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE 37/40 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. Sister Helen ---------------- “And if you have seethed your wax aright, Sister Helen, You'll let me play, for you said I might.” “Be very still in your play to-night, Little brother.” (O Mother, Mary Mother, O what is this Dark night, to-night, between Hell & Heaven?) “You said it must melt ere vesper-bell, Sister Helen; If now it be molten, all is well.” “Even so,—nay, peace! you cannot tell, Little brother.” (O Mother, Mary Mother, What should be told O what is this, between Hell & Heaven?) “Oh the waxen knave was plump today, Sister Helen; How like dead folk he has dropped away!” “Nay now, of the dead what can you say, Little brother?” (O Mother, Mary Mother, What of the dead, between Hell & Heaven?) blank page 38/41 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE “See, see, against the burning wood, Sister Helen, The thin wax shines as red as blood!” “Nay now, when looked you yet on blood, Little brother?” (O Mother, Mary Mother, How pale she is, between Hell & Heaven!) “Now close your eyes, for they're sick & sore, Sister Helen, And I'll play without the gallery door.” “Aye, let me rest,—I'll lie on the floor, Little brother,” (O Mother, Mary Mother, What rest tonight, between Hell & Heaven?) “Here high up in the gallery balcony, Sister Helen, The moon flies face to face with me.” “Aye, look and say whatever you see, Little brother.” (O Mother, Mary Mother, What sight tonight between Hell & Heaven?) “Outside it's merry in the wind's wake, Sister Helen; In the shaken trees the chill stars shake.’ “Hush, heard you a horse-tread as you spake, Little brother?” (O Mother, Mary Mother, What sound tonight between Hell and Heaven?) blank page 3[?] Pagination number, not by DGR. mighty baron seek/(Is this the end &c DGR's draft notes for lines 179 and 182 17 x 11.1 unlined laid white none “I'll stay outside on the terrace here, Sister H. So we can talk and none can hear. Say all you see & all you hear Little B. (O M. M. M. What sight, what sound &c. blank page 39/42 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE “I hear a horse-tread, and I see, Sister Helen, Three horsemen that ride terribly.” “Little brother, whence come the three, Little brother?” (O Mother, Mary Mother, Whence should they come, between Hell & Heaven?) “They come by the hill-verge from Boyne Bar, Sister Helen, And one draws nigh, but two are afar.” “Look, look, do you know them who they are, Little brother?” (O Mother, Mary Mother, Who should they be, between Hell & Heaven?) “Oh, it's Kieth of Eastholm Holm of East Holm rides so fast, Sister Helen, For I know the white mane on the blast.” “The hour has come, has come at last, Little brother!” (O Mother, Mary Mother, Her hour at last, between Hell & Heaven!) “He has made a sign and called Halloo! Sister Helen, And he says that he would speak with you.” ‘Oh tell him I fear the frozen dew, Little brother.” (O Mother, Mary Mother, Thou heard'st her laugh Why laughs she thus, between Hell & Heaven?) received stanza 15 added on this page ‘But he has not ceased to cry all day, Sister Helen, That you should take your curse away.’ ‘My prayer was heard,—he need but pray, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, What curse or prayer, between Hell and Heaven?) 40/43 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE “The wind is loud, but I hear him cry, Sister Helen, That Kieth Holm of Ewern's like to die.” “And he and thou, and thou and I, Little brother.” (O Mother, Mary Mother, And they and we, between Hell & Heaven!) “Since yesterday he lies sick abed, Sister Helen, And he prays in torment to be dead.” “The thing may chance, if he have prayed, Little brother!” (O Mother, Mary Mother, If he have prayed, between Hell & Heaven!) “He says, till you take back your ban, Sister Helen, His soul would pass, but never can.” “Nay then, shall I slay a living man, Little brother?’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, A living soul, between Hell & Heaven!) “Here's Kieth of Westholm Holm of West Holm riding fast, Sister Helen, For I know the white plume on the blast.” “The hour, the sweet hour I forecast, Little brother!” (O Mother, Mary Mother, Is the hour sweet, between Hell & Heaven?) blank page 41/44 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE “He stops to speak, and he stills his steed horse, Sister Helen; Through the murmuring trees the [?] is dead But his words are drowned in the wind's course.” “Nay hear, nay hear, you must hear indeed perforce, Little brother!” (O Mother, Mary Mother, A word ill heard, between Hell & Heaven!) “Oh he says that Kieth Holm of Ewern's cry, Sister Helen, Is ever to see you ere he die.” “He sees me in earth, in moon & sky, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Earth, moon & sky, between Hell & Heaven!) “He sends a ring & a broken coin, Sister Helen, And bids you mind the banks of Boyne.” “What else he broke will he ever join, Little brother?” (O Mother, Mary Mother, No, never joined more, between Hell & Heaven!) “He yields you these & craves full fain, Sister Helen, You pardon him in his mortal pain.” “What else he took will he give again, Little brother?’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Not twice to give, between Hell & Heaven!) received stanzas 24 and 27 added on this page “He calls your name in an agony, Sister Helen, That even dead Love must weep to see.” “Hate, born of Love, is blind as he, Little brother!” (O Mother, Mary Mother, Love turned to hate, between Hell & Heaven!) “Oh his son still cries, if you forgive, Sister Helen, The body dies but the soul shall live.” “Fire shall forgive me as I forgive, Little brother!” (O Mother, Mary Mother, Fire for the heart soul, between Hell & Heaven!) 42/45 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE “Oh it's Kieth of Kieth Holm of Holm now that rides fast, Sister Helen, For I know the white hair on the blast.” “The short short hour will soon be past, Little brother!” (O Mother, Mary Mother, Will soon be past, between Hell & Heaven!) “He looks at me and he tries to speak, Sister Helen, But oh! his voice is sad and weak!” “What here should the mighty Baron seek, Little brother!” (O Mother, Mary Mother, Oh vainly sought, between Hell & Heaven!) “Oh he prays you, as his heart would rive, Sister Helen, To save his dear son's soul alive.” “Nay, flame cannot slay it, it shall thrive, Little brother!” (O Mother, Mary Mother, Alas, alas, between Hell & Heaven!) “He cries to you, kneeling in the road, Sister Helen, To go with him for the love of God!” “The way is long to his son's abode, Little brother.” (O Mother, Mary Mother, The way is long, between Hell & Heaven!) blank page 43/46 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE “O Sister Helen, you heard the bell, Sister Helen! More loud than the vesper-chime it fell.” “No vesper-chime, but a dying knell, Little brother?” (O Mother, Mary Mother, His dying knell, between Hell & Heaven!) “Alas! but I fear the heavy sound, Sister Helen; Is it in the sky or in the ground?” “Say, have they turned their horses round, Little brother?” (O Mother, Mary Mother, What would she more, between Hell & Heaven?) “They have raised the old man from his knee, Sister Helen, And they ride in silence hastily.” “More fast the naked soul doth flee, Little brother!” (O Mother, Mary Mother, The naked soul, between Hell & Heaven!) “Oh the wind is sad in the iron chill, Sister Helen, And weary sad they look by the hill.” “But he they mourn is sadder still, Little brother!” (O Mother, Mary Mother, Most sad of all, between Hell and Heaven!) blank page 44/47 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. 22 x 17.5 unlined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE “See, see, the wax has dropped from its place, Sister Helen, And the flames are winning up apace!” “Yet here they burn but for a space, Little brother?” (O Mother, Mary Mother, Swift space and place, between Hell & Heaven!) “Ah! what white thing at the door has crossed, Sister Helen? Ah! what is this that sighs in the frost?” “A soul that's lost as mine is lost, Little brother!” (O Mother, Mary Mother, Lost, lost, all lost, between Hell & Heaven!) ------------------ blank page 45/48 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. Hadley Compositor's name added in pencil by publisher or his surrogate. 21.8 x 17.6 lined laid white B & HSUPER FINEKENT [with heraldic device Charles Fairfax Murray writes the received title, “Beauty and the Bird”, in the top right corner. The Bullfinch She fluted with her mouth as when one sips, And waved her golden head, brave head and kind, Outside his cage, close to the window-blind; Till her sweet fond bird, with little turns and dips, Piped low to her of sweet companionships. And when he stopped, she took some seed, I vow, And fed him from her rosy tongue, which now Peeped like as a piercing bud between her lips. And like a child in Chaucer, on whose tongue The Blessed Mary laid, when he was dead, A grain,—who straightway praised her name in song: Even so, when she, a little lightly red, Now turned on me and laughed, I felt made strong, To honour and to praise her golden head. blank page 46/49 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. 21.8 x 17.6 lined laid white B & HSUPER FINEKENT [with heraldic device A Match with the Moon ----------------------- Weary already, weary miles to-night I walked for bed: and so, to get some ease, I dogged the flying moon with similes. And like a wisp she doubled on my sight In ponds; and caught in tree-tops like a kite; And in a globe of film all vapourish Swam full-faced like a silly silver fish;— Last like a bubble shot the welkin's height Where my road turned, & got behind me, & sent My wizened shadow craning over round at me, And jeered, “So, step the measure,—one two three!”— And if I faced on her, looked innocent. But just at parting, halfway down a dell, She kissed me for good-night. So you'll not tell. blank page 47/50 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. 21.8 x 17.6 lined laid white B & HSUPER FINEKENT [with heraldic device The Honeysuckle. -------- I plucked a honeysuckle where The hedge on high is quick with thorn, And climbing for my the prize, was torn, And fouled my feet in quag-water; And by the thorns and by the wind The blossom that I took was thinn'd, And yet I found it sweet and fair. Thence to a richer growth I came, Where, nursed in mellow intercourse, The honeysuckles sprang by scores, Not harried like my single stem, All virgin lamps of scent & dew. So from my hand that first I threw, Yet plucked not any more of them. blank page 48/51 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. 22 x 17.4 lined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE John of Howth John of Howth is back with peace, But he comes home ill at ease. “Good-morrow, mother.” “Good-morrow, son; Your wife has borne you a little one.” “Go now, mother, go before, Make me a bed upon the floor; “Very low your foot must fall, That my wife hear not at all.” At the hour of As it neared the midnight's toll, John of Howth gave up his soul. “Tell me now, my mother, my dear, What's the singing that I hear?” “Daughter, it's the troops in rows Going round about our house.” blank page 49/52 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. 22 x 17.4 lined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE “Tell me though, my mother, my dear, What's the knocking that I hear?” “Daughter, it's the carpenter Mending planks upon the stair.” “Well, but tell, my mother, my dear, What's the crying that I hear?” “Daughter, the children are awake, Crying with their teeth that ache.” “Nay, but say, my mother my dear, Why do you stand weeping here?” “Oh! the truth must be said,— It's that John of Howth is dead.” “Mother, let the sexton know That the grave must be for two; “Aye, and still have room to spare, For you must lay the baby there.” --------------------- blank page 50/53 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. 22 x 17.4 lined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE My Father's Close Inside my father's close, Fly away O my heart away! Sweet apple-blossom blows So sweet. Three kings' daughters fair, Fly away O my heart away! They lie below it there So sweet. “Ah!” says the eldest one, Fly away O my heart away! “I think the day's begun So sweet.” “Ah!” says the second one, Fly away O my heart away! “Far off I hear the drum So sweet.” blank page 51/54 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. “Ah!” says the youngest one,— Fly away O my heart away! “It's my true love, my own, So sweet. “Oh! if he fight and win,’ Fly away O my heart away! “I keep my love for him, So sweet: Oh! if he lose or win, He hath it still complete.” blank page 52/55 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. 22 x 17.4 lined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE <hi rend="u">One Girl</hi> <lb/> <hi rend="u">(Adaptation from Sappho)</hi> I. Like the sweet apple which reddens upon the topmost bough, Atop on the topmost twig,—which the pluckers forgot somehow,— Forgot it not, nay, but got it not, for none could get it till now. II. Like the wild hyacinth flower which on the hills is found, Which the passing feet of the shepherds for ever tear & wound, Until the purple blossom is trodden into the ground. blank page 53/56 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. 21.8 x 17.6 lined laid white B & HSUPER FINEKENT At Last Fate claimed hard toll from Love, and did not spare; Are the dues paid, and is all Love's at last? Cling round me, sacred sweetness—hold me fast,— Oh! as I kneel, enfold mine eyes even there Within thy breast; and to Love's deepest lair Of memory bid thy soul with mine retreat And let our past years and our future meet In the warm darkness underneath thine hair. Say once for all: “Me Love accepts, and thee: Nor takes he other count of bygone years Not his, than do the affranchised earth and sea Of hours wherein the unyoked inordinate spheres Hurtled tumultuous round Time's ringing ears Ere yet one word gave light to victory.” blank page 54/57 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. 22 x 17.4 lined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE Charles Fairfax Murray has written "On Refusal of aid between nations" at the top of the page. <hi rend="u">Moribund Men</hi> Not that the earth is changing, O my God! Nor that the seasons totter in their walk,— Not that the common ill virulence of act and talk Seems close on the appointed period Seethes ever as a winepress ever trod,— Not therefore are we certain that the rod Weighs in thine hand to smite the world; though now Beneath thine hand so many nations bow, So many kings:—not therefore, O my God! But because Man is parcelled out in men Wholly because Even thus; until because, for any wrongful blow, No man not stricken asks, “I would be told Why thou dost thus strike;” but his heart whispers then “He is he, I am I.” By this we know That the earth falls asunder, being old. blank page 55/58 Pagination numbers, not by DGR. 22 x 17.4 lined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE Charles Fairfax Murray has written "Tiber, Niles, Thames" at the top of the page, near the gutter. Cleopatra's Needle in London ------ The head & hands of murdered Cicero, Above his seat high in the Forum hung, Drew tears jeers and burning tears. When on the rung Of deftly a swift-mounted ladder, all aglow, Fulvia, Mark Antony's shameless wife, with show Of foot firm-poised and gleaming arm upflung, Bade her sharp needle pierce that god-like tongue Whose speech fed Rome even as the Tiber's flow— Ah! And thou, Cleopatra's Needle, that hadst thrid Great skirts of Time ere she and Antony hid Dead hope!—hast thou too reached, surviving death, A city of sweet speech scorned? ,—on whose chill stone Keats withered, Coleridge pined, & Chatterton, Breadless, with poison winged the God-dowered breath? blank page 74/56/60 Pagination numbers, not by DGR, except possibly “74”. 21.8 x 17 lined laid white none The Girlhood of Mary Virgin <lb/>(for a Picture) ---- This is that blessed Mary, pre-elect God's Virgin. Gone is a great while, and she Dwelt young in Nazareth of Galilee. Her kin she cherished with devout respect: Her gifts were simpleness of intellect, And supreme patience. From her mother's knee Faithful and hopeful; wise in charity; Strong in grave peace; in pity circumspect. So held she through her girlhood; as it were An angel-watered lily, that near God Grows and is quiet. Till, one dawn at home, She woke in her white bed, and had no fear At all,—yet wept till she sunshine, & felt awed; Because the fulness of the time was come. blank page 57 Pagination not by DGR 11 x 17.5 unlined blue gray none DGR has written a series of possible sestet rhymes across the top of the page.

believed relieved heaved weaved received grieved achieved deceived

These be the images. Upon symbols. On that cloth of red Cloth set That's hung i' the centre, is the tripoint—each, Point perfect, save the second one, to teach That Christ is not yet born. The books (whose head Is golden Charity, even as Isaiah Paul hath said) Those virtues are wherein the soul is rich: Therefore on them the lily standeth, which Is purity, being interpreted. The seven-thorned briar & the palm seven-leav'd Are their sorrow great sorrows and their great reward. Until the Time be full, the Holy One Waiteth without. She soon shall have achieved Her perfect purity: yea, God the Lord Shall soon vouchsafe His Son to be her Son. ------------------ This verso page has a sketch of a man's head plus some notations by DGR (from 1849) and by WMR (from the 1880s or 1890s). My dear Sir DGR's notation for beginning a letter By Gabriel. Sonnet 2 to his firstpicture, 1848-9, Girlhood of MaryVirgin WMR's note on the sonnet on the recto.

Bliss3 South Sq.Gray's Inn

 58 Pagination not by DGR 22 x 17.5 lined white laid J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE Print this after M.S. Mary Magdalene [?] page 134 DGR's directions to the printer The Passover in the Holy Family <lb/>(For a Design*) Here meet together the prefiguring day And day prefigured. “Eating, thou shalt stand, Feet shod, loins girt, thy road-staff in thine hand, With bloodstained door and lintel,”—did God say By Moses' mouth in ages passed away. And now, where this poor household doth comprise At Paschal-Feast two kindred families,— Lo! the slain lamb confronts the lamb to slay. The pyre is piled. What agony's crown attained, What shadow of death the Boy's fair brow subdues Who holds that blood wherewith the porch is stained By Zachary the priest? John binds the shoes He deemed himself not worthy to unloose; And Mary culls the bitter herbs ordained.

*The scene is in the house-porch, where Christ holds a bowl of blood from which Zacharias is sprinkling the posts and lintel. Joseph has brought the lamb and Elizabeth lights the pyre. The shoes which John fastens and the bitter herbs which Mary is gathering form part of the ritual.

 blank page 59 Pagination not by DGR 10 x 11 cm unlined white laid none Rose-sheathed beside the rosebud tongue Lurks the young adder's tooth; And sweet the flower of &c &c

4 line stanza on same plan

Rose-sheathed the infant adder's tooth Lurks by the rosebud tongue; Milk-mild the earliest drops are wrung From hemlock reft of ruth; And sweet the fragrance of flower of his first youth When Michael Scott was young. From newborn hemlock-bluth;

for 6 line stanza on usual plan

Milk-mild from newborn hemlock-bluth; The earliest drops are wrung; Rose-sheathed beside the rosebud ton 59 Pagination not by DGR 22.6 x 18 cm unlined white laid none The page is folded into four sides with the text written on the first side. <del>A Vision of Fiammetta</del> Behold Fiammetta, [?] shown in Vision here. Gloom-girt 'mid Spring-flushed apple-growth she stands; And as she sways the branches with her hands, Along her arm the sundered bloom falls sheer, In separate petals shed, each like a tear; While from the quivering bough the bird expands His wings. And lo! thy spirit understands Life shaken & shower'd & flown, & Death drawn near. All stirs with change. Her garments beat the air: The angel circling round her aureole Shimmers in flight against the tree's grey bole: While she, with reassuring eyes most fair, A presage and a promise stands; as 'twere On Death's dark storm the rainbow of the Soul. DGR blank page 61 Pagination not by DGR 11.2 x 18 cm unlined white laid none A Venetian Pastoral, by Giorgione, <lb/>in the Louvre Water, for anguish of the solstice,—nay, But dip the vessel slowly, nay, but lean And mark how at its marge[?] verge the wave sighs in Reluctant. Hush! Beyond the/all depth all depth away The heat lies silent at the brink of day: Now trails the hand upon the viol-string That sobs, and the brown faces cease to sing, Sad with the whole of pleasure. Her eyes stray In sunshine; through her life mouth the pipe doth creep And leaves them it pouting; shadowed here, the grass Is cool against her naked side. Let be:— Do not now speak unto her, lest she weep. Nor name this ever: be it as it was,— Life touching life/hands/palms[?] lips with Immortality. blank page 62 Pagination not by DGR 22.6 x 18 cm unlined white laid none This copy of the sonnet on Blake is untitled. This is the place. Twas Even here the dauntless heart/soul soul, The unflinching hand, wrought on, till in yon that nook, As twere upon that on that very bed, his life partook Of thy new New birth, & passed. Yon river's distant shoal, Down through/Round th Past the steep coast's byway's teeming gully-hole, Faced each day's labour his work-window, whence his eyes would stare, Not unto any sight that met them there, But to the unfettered irreversible goal. This cupboard, Holy of Holies, held the cloud Of his soul writ & limned; and in this this other one, His true wife's household closet charge, full oft to their abode Yielded for daily bread the martyr's stone, Ere yet their food might be that Bread alone, The words now home-heard from the mouth of God. May 1880 blank page 27 x 20.4 cm unlined white laid none One large sheet folded, with the text written on the two inside pages. DGR has copied his alternate versions for lines 16, 18, 25, 27 at the foot of the page. Upon a day, to pass the time, we read Alternative versions at the bottom of the page for lines 16, 18, 23, 27 When I made answer, I began, “Alas! How many sweet thoughts & how much desire Led these two onwards to the dolorous pass!”— Then turned to them, as who would fain inquire, And said: “Francesca, these thine agonies Drew Wring tears for pity and grief which that they inspire: But tell me,—in the season of sweet sighs, When and what way did Love instruct you so That he in your vague longings made you wise?” Then she to me: “There is no greater woe Than the remembrance left of past happy days In misery; and this thy guide doth know. But if the first beginnings to retrace Of our sad love can bring yield thee solace here, So will I be as one that weeps and says. “One day we read, for pastime and sweet cheer, Of Lancelot, how he found Love tyrannous: We were alone and without any fear. Our eyes were drawn together, reading thus, Full oft, and still our cheeks would pale and glow; But one sole point it was that conquered us. For when we read of that great lover, how He kissed the longed-for smile as a great thing smile which he had longed to win,— Then he whom nought can sever from me now For ever, kissed my mouth, all quivering. Our Galahalt A pander was the book, and he that writ: Upon that day we read no more therein.”

Dante: Div. Com. Inf. C. V.

Upon a day, to pass the time, we read We were alone and free of guilt or dread He kissed the smile he long had longèd for For ever, kissed my mouth trembling all o'er Upon that day we read not any more blank page 64 Pagination number not by DGR. 22 x 17.5 cm lined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE The text on this page and the following is DGR's transcription from the 1533 text of the French prose <hi rend="i">Lancelot du Lac</hi> that was one of his sources for his projected poem “God's Graal”. Toward the end of the transcription he summarizes the text he is copying in English.

Vous avez nom Launcelot du Lac. Il se tait. x x x x Et avant hier pourquoi fites vous tant d'armer que vous fites? Et il commenca a soupirer. Dites moi seule- ment, car je sais bien que pour aucune dame ou damoiselle le fites vous; et me dites qui elle est par la foi qui vous me devez; —Ah dame je vois bien qu'il me convient dire que c'est vous — Moi? dit elle. — Voire, dame. —Pour moi ne rompites vous les trois lances que ma pucelle vous porter? car je me mis bien hors du mandement. Madame je fis pour elle ce que je veux et pour vous ce que je peux. — Et combien y a't' il que vous m'aimez tant. — Dis le jour que je fus tenu pour chevalier et je ne l'etais inye. ߞ Par la foi que vous me devez, d'où vient cet amours que vous avez en moi mis? —Dame, dit il, vous me le fites faire, que vous me fites votre ami di votre bouche ne m'a menti. — Votre ami!— dit elle — comment? Dame, dit il, je vins devant vous quand j'eus pris congé de monseigneur le roi: je vous commandai a dieu et dis que je eux votre chevalier en tous heure lieux. Et vous me dites que votre amis et votre chevalier vouliez vous que je fusse. Et je dis, adieu dame. Et vous dites, adieu mon beau doux ami. Ce fut le mot que prudhomme me fera Si je le suis, ne oncques pris ne fut si grant meschief qu'il ne mieu remembrat? Ce mot me [?] conforte en tous mes ennemis. Ce mot M'a de tous maux quèri Ce mot me fait riche en mes pouveretes.— Ma foi, dit la reine, ce mot fut en bonne heure dit. 65 Pagination number not by DGR. 22 x 17.5 cm lined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE Nonportant s'il veux je la baiserai très volontiers Dame dit il grand merci Et il eu est si joy eut qu'il ne peut repondre sinon qui'il dit Dame, grand merci. Dame dit G. de son vouloir ne [doute?] car il est tout votre. B[?] ne sachez n'y a nul ne s'en apercevra. Nous trois seron ensemble ainsi comme si nous conseiller. De quoi me ferai prier? dit elle, plus le veux que vous. Lors se trayeut a part et font semblant de conseiller. La reine vit que le chevalier n'en ose plus faire, si le prend par le menton et le baise devant Galahault assez longement. Et la dame de Mallehault sû de vrai qu'elle le baisait. Lors parla la reine qui fut moult etoit sage et vaillante dame. Beaux doux ami, dit elle, tant avez fait que je suis votre, et moult en ai grande joye. Or gardez que la chose soit celeè car metier eu est. Je suis une des dames du monde dont leu a grigneur bien dit. Et si me renoncer empirait par vous il y avait laid amour et villain. She then enjoins secrecy also on G. who begs for a favour which is that she will give him her knight as his companion in arms This she does, telling G. that he is Lancelot du Lac which he did not know before. 66 Pagination number not by DGR. 22 x 17.5 cm lined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE The queen says she had said the same in good faith to other knights, and did not mean it as he took it. But she added that many knights said what was not in their hearts. And This she said to see if she would discountenance him — for she saw he pretended none other love but her. And she delighted in his discomfort. But he was so stricken With sorrow that he almost fainted, and the queen was frightened & called to Galahalt. Galahalt confirms all that Lancelot said & pleads his cause. She asks what favour he wd have — that he asks for nothing. Have Mercy on him, says G. I will have all the mercy you will on him, says the queen. But she repeats that he asks for nothing. He does not dare, says G. but I pray for him, & you could have no greater treasure than his love. I will do all you command, says the Q. Grammercy, says G. I pray you that you take him for your [k]night & be always his loyal lady x x x Thanks, says G & now his service shd commence. You can ask nothing, says she, that I will not do. Thanks, lady, says G.— Then kisses him before all For a beginning of true love Du basier dit elle je ne vous ni lieu ni temps et ne doutez pas Dit elle, que je ne le voulusse faire aussi voloutiers qu'il le ferait — but these ladies are here who would be astonished, & for all as could say, they wd repeat it

 67 Pagination number not by DGR. 22 x 17.5 cm lined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE Low drooped trembling Rose Mary, Then up as though in a dream stood she. “Come, my heart, it is time to go; This is the hour that was stricken slow we have dreaded so When thy pulse quailed in the nights we know. O my shame, it is shown, shown, shown! Come back, dear love, or I die alone! O Lord God, one are we, and thine! As for one soul, be it his and mine, The shrift he bears from the holy shrine! Ah me! as yet but a day apart!— “Three days more!” she said to her heart; “And then he comes, and we will not part. Yet God be thanked that I still could see! His death by Heaven's help shall not be;/life shall be safe assuredly I have saved his life assuredly But shall I live till he come to look on me? O he shall come back assuredly O my heart, and where shall I hide The bridegroom's choice till she be a bride? Through what thorns brake, in what dusky dreary heavy gloam To what wind's wail shall my footsteps roam, Till my wedding-music fetch me home? blank page 68 Pagination number not by DGR. 22 x 17.5 cm lined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE Someone, probably DGR, has written "No" in the right margin beside the first line of the second stanza. Tall she stood with a flame in her eye cheek flushed high And a cheek glance gaze to burn the heart-strings by. 'Twas the lightning-flash o'er sky and plain Ere labouring thunders heave the chain From the floodgates of the drowning rain. The lady watched her, pallid and chill looked on her, sore in pain numbed & still As on a hurt thing that she yet must kill that's yet to kill. Then rose the tears that no strength could might she might not stem; The mother clung to the daughter's hem The love burned [?] atburned high with the burning shame, And all the stormtide burst on them. Heart to heart and face against face, Closely locked, they clung without speech, They shook there, locked in a long embrace; And these the mirrored souls shook each to each, As the sky- cloud-moon and the water's-moon Neath cloud and wave Through [?] and stormy hours to the wind's one tune Shake in wild hours of the Together shake at the Shake to the night And Shake sore within face to face in the night's mid-noon As the cloud-moon & the water-moon Shake face to face in the Shake face to face to the storm-wind's tune In rainy heavy tossing bowers of the night's mid-noon. blank page 69 Pagination number not by DGR. 10.1 x 17.5 cm lined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE <del>The Stream's Song</del> <add>The Stream's Secret</add> What thing unto/weeping to thing unto mine ear Wouldst thou convey,—what secret thing, O wandering hurrying water ever whispering? Surely thy speech shall be of her. Thou water, O thou whispering wanderer tremulous whisperer, What message dost thou bring? Say, hath not Love leaned low Before/Far off This hour beside thy fair well-head, And in those [?] there through jealous hollowed fingers said The thing that most I long to know,— Murmuring with curls that all dabbled in thy flow And washed lips/mouth lips rosy red? He told it to thee there Where thy voice hath a louder tone; But where it welters to this little moan His will decrees that I should hear. Now speak: for with the silence is no fear, And I am all alone. When shall we meet, who now Shall Love not yet still endow Are sundered— [?] I shall One hour with life, and I and she [?] Strain in one kiss the soul of memory? Say, stream; lest Love should disavow Thy service, and the bird upon the bough Speak Sing first to tell it me. The page has fragments of lines 27, 33-34, and 39-40. They represent DGR's reflections on and revisions to the text on page [70r] below. Their ghosts within the roadside doorways dwell Along my road their ghosts in doorways dwell have darkened doors wherein to dw[ell] And &c. That while the maze hath still the its bower for quest My burning heart should cease to seek May any bulwark bind its Shall not thy trammelled waters spread 22.1 x 17.4 cm lined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE The texts on this page are in pencil and often difficult to recover. 38/70/74 Pagination, not by DGR What thing unto mine ear Wouldst thou convey,—what secret thing, O wandering water ever whispering? Surely thy speech shall be of her. Thou water, O thou whispering wanderer, What message dost thou bring? For hath not Love leaned low Beside thy welling water- distant water-head, And in thine ear through jealous fingers said The thing that most I long to know,— With dabbled curls [?] [?] [?] [?] Each wing the while unto its way-shadow In weltering circling [?] Piled deep below the screening apple branch They lie with bitter apple [?] company/destiny/memory/infinity/purity/plen DGR's alternate readings for line 11. The hour which might have been yet might not be, Which man's & woman's heart conceived & bore Yet whereof life was barren,—on what shore Bides it the breaking of Time's weary sea? Bondchild of all consummate joys set free, It somewhere serves, and through the [?] door sighs and serves, and mute before [?] high house [?] heaven evermore The house of Love, hears through the echoing door His hours elect in choral consonancy. But lo! what souls are these now hand in hand With mingled transports tread the immortal[?] strand With eyes where awestruck memory lights love home? Lo! how the little outcast hour has turned And [?] leaped to them and in their faces yearned:— “I am your child: O parents, ye have come!” 22.1 x 17.4 cm lined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE The page is bound into the volume after the page (below) that is marked “70”. Some unrecovered faint pencil lines are scripted along the left top margin beside the pencil drafts of the series of alternates for line 3. O water wandering water welteringO wandering water ever whisperingO wandering wandering water whisperingO water O thou wanderer whisperingThou water thou that wanderest whispering DGR's trial alternates for line 3 What is the secret thing That thou wouldst tell me in mine ear O water, wandering water whispering? Lo! I am bent to hear: What is the message thou dost bring, Thou water O thou whispering wanderer. What thing unto mine ear Wouldst thou confide—what secret thing, O wandering water, wandering water whispering? What message dost thou bring Nay speak for [?] bent to hear if thou will speak of her Thou water O thou whispering wanderer. What thing unto mine ear Wouldst thou convey—what secret thing O wandering water ever whispering? Nay speak, for I am bent to hear if thou will speak of her What message dost thou bring, Thou water O thou whispering wanderer. Nay, speak some little word of her Surely/Nay but thy speech shall must be of her 71 Pagination number not by DGR. 10.1 x 17.5 cm lined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE The page is bound into the volume after the page (below) that is marked “70”, as the manuscript pagination here suggests. What whisperest thou? Nay, why Speak of Name the dead days? I mind them well: Their ghosts in many darkened doorways dwell With desolate eyes to know them by. That/One That hour must be born ere it can die: Of that I'd have thee tell. Hear now But hear, before thou speak! Again Withhold all, I pray, the vain behest That in the maze whose own is still to seek while the maze hath still its bower for quest My burning heart forego the quest should cease to seek. Be sure that Love ordained for souls more meek His [?]s and roadside dells of rest. Stream, when this silver thread In flood-time is a torrent brown What hand May any hand coop up thy bulwark bind its foaming crown? Shall not thy waters sigh surge and spread And to the crannied boulders of thy their bed Still send shoot the dead dry leaves down? If such [?] thing have Let no rebuke find place In speech of thine, it needs or it shall prove That thou dost ill expound the [?] words of Love, Even as thine eddy's rippling race Would blur the perfect image of his face. I will have none thereof. O learn and understand That for such wrongs as Love may doth wreak Her tones are hushed & shadowy pale her cheek Whose eyes, beseeching, give command; Till compassed in her close compassionate hand The heart must burn & speak. The page has an unplaced line fragment. Yet now thou sayst was that not was with[?] 72 Pagination number not by DGR. 10.1 x 17.5 cm lined laid white J ALLEN & SONSSUPER FINE The page is bound into the volume after the page (below) that is marked “70”, as the manuscript pagination here suggests. Deemst thou that I could look Into her eyes, and she not know? Deemst thou that she could know and I not glow With fire no spell could e'er rebuke? And Love not weep above for pains that shook His [?] heart below? O learn and understand That 'gainst the wrongs himself did wreak Love sought her aid; until her shadowy cheek And eyes beseeching gave command; And compassed in her close compassionate hand My heart must burn & speak. blank page blank page