A fugitive and gracious light he seeks,

Shy to illumine; and I seek it too. This does not come with houses or with gold,

With place, with honor, and a flattering crew;

'Tis not in the world's market bought and sold.

But the smooth-slipping weeks Drop by, and leave its seeker still untired.

Out of the heed of mortals is he gone,

He wends unfollowed, he must house alone;

Yet on he fares, by his own heart inspired.

Thou too, O Thyrsis, on this quest wert bound,

Thou wanderedst with me for a little hour.

Men gave thee nothing; but this happy quest,

If men esteemed thee feeble, gave thee power,

If men procured thee trouble, gave thee rest.

And this rude Cumner ground, Its fir-topped Hurst, its farms, its quiet fields,

Here cam'st thou in thy jocund youthful time,

Here was thine height of strength, thy golden prime,

And still the haunt beloved a virtue yields.

What though the music of thy rustic flute

Kept not for long its happy country tone;

Lost it too soon, and learnt a stormy note

Of men contention-tost, of men who

Of one that loved, not wisely, but too well;

Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought,

Perplexed in the extreme; of one whose hand,

Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away

Richer than all his tribe; of one

whose subdued eyes,

Albeit unused to the melting mood, Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees

Their medicinal gum. Set you down this,

And say, besides, that in Aleppo once,

Where a malignant and a turbaned Turk

Beat a Venetian, and traduced the state,

I took by the throat the circumcisèd dog,

And smote him-thus. [Stabs himSHAKSPEARE.

self.