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# Phantasmagoria and Other Poems/After Three Days

AFTER THREE DAYS.
[Written after visiting Holman Hunt's picture of 'Christ in the Temple.']
I stood within the gate
Of a great temple, 'midst the living stream
Of worshippers that thronged its regal state
Fair pictured in my dream.
Jewels and gold were there;
And floors of marble lent a crystal sheen
To body forth, as in a lower air,
The wonders of the scene.
Such wild and lavish grace
Had whispers in it of a coming doom;
As richest flowers lie strown about the face
Of her that waits the tomb.
The wisest of the land
Had gathered there, three solemn try sting-days,
For high debate: men stood on either hand
To listen and to gaze.
The aged brows were bent,
Bent to a frown, half thought, and half annoy,
That all their stores of subtlest argument
Were baffled by a boy.
In each averted face
I marked but scorn and loathing, till mine eyes
Fell upon one that stirred not in his place,
Tranced in a dumb surprise
Surely within his mind
Strange thoughts are born, until he doubts the lore
Of those old men, blind leaders of the blind,
Whose kingdom is no more.
Surely he sees afar
A day of death the stormy future brings;
The crimson setting of the herald star
That led the Eastern kings.
Thus, as a sunless deep
Mirrors the shining heights that crown the bay,
So did my soul create anew in sleep
The picture seen by day.
Gazers came and went—
A restless hum of voices marked the spot—
In varying shades of critic discontent
Prating they knew not what.
"Where is the comely limb,
The form attuned in every perfect part,
The beauty that we should desire in him?"
Ah! Fools and slow of heart!
Look into those deep eyes,
Deep as the grave, and strong with love divine;
Those tender, pure, and fathomless mysteries,
That seem to pierce through thine.
Look into those deep eyes,
Stirred to unrest by breath of coming strife,
Until a longing in thy soul arise
That this indeed were life:
That thou couldst find Him there,
Bend at His sacred feet thy willing knee,
And from thy heart pour out the passionate prayer
"Lord, let me follow Thee!"
But see the crowd divide;
Mother and sire have found their lost one now:
The gentle voice, that fain would seem to chide
Whispers "Son, why hast thou"—
In tone of sad amaze—
"Thus dealt with us, that art our dearest thing?
Behold, thy sire and I, three weary days,
Have sought thee sorrowing."
And I had stayed to hear
The loving words "How is it that ye sought?"—
But that the sudden lark, with matins clear,
Severed the links of thought.
Then over all there fell
Shadow and silence; and my dream was fled,
As fade the phantoms of a wizard's cell
When the dark charm is said.
Yet in the gathering light
I lay with half-shut eyes that would not wake,
Lovingly clinging to the skirts of night
For that sweet vision's sake.
Feb. 16, 1861.
# Phantasmagoria and Other Poems/Christmas Greetings

CHRISTMAS GREETINGS.
[From a Fairy to a Child.]
Lady dear, if fairies may
For a moment lay aside
Cunning tricks and elfish play—
'Tis at happy Christmas-tide.
We have heard the children say—
Gentle children, whom we love—
Long ago, on Christmas Day
Came a message from above.
Still, as Christmas time comes round,
They remember it again—
Echo still the joyful sound
'Peace on earth, good will to men!'
Yet the hearts must child-like be
Where such heavenly guests abide:
Unto children in their glee
All the year is Christmas-tide!
So, forgetting tricks and play
For a moment, lady dear,
We would wish you, if we may,
Merry Christmas, glad New Year!
# Phantasmagoria and Other Poems/Only a Woman's Hair

ONLY A WOMAN'S HAIR.
[After the death of Dean Swift, there was found among his papers a small packet containing a single lock of hair and inscribed with the above words.]
'Only a woman's hair'! Fling it aside! A bubble on Life's mighty stream:
Heed it not, man, but watch the broadening tide
Bright with the western beam.
Nay! In those words there rings from other years
The echo of a long low cry,
Where a proud spirit wrestles with his tears
In loneliest agony.
And as I touch that lock, strange visions rise
Before me in a shadowy throng—
Of woman's hair, the joy of lovers' eyes,
The theme of poet's song.
A child's bright tresses, by the breezes kissed
To sweet disorder as she flies,
Veiling beneath a cloud of golden mist
Flushed cheek and laughing eyes—
Or fringing like a shadow, raven-black,
The glory of a queen-like face—
Or from a gipsy's sunny brow tossed back
In wild and wanton grace—
Or crown-like on the hoary head of Age,
Whose tale of life is well-nigh told—
Or, last, in dreams I make my pilgrimage
To Bethany of old.
I see the feast—the purple and the gold—
The gathering crowd of Pharisees,
Whose scornful eyes are centred to behold
Yon woman on her knees.
The stifled sob rings strangely on mine ears,
Wrung from the depth of sin's despair:
And still she bathes the sacred feet with tears,
And wipes them with her hair.
He scorned not then the simple loving deed
Of her, the lowest and the last;
Then scorn not thou, but use with earnest heed
This relic of the past.
The eyes that loved it once no longer wake:
So lay it by with reverent care—
So touch it tenderly for sorrow's sake—
It is a woman's hair.
# Phantasmagoria and Other Poems/Faces in the Fire

FACES IN THE FIRE.
The night creeps onward, sad and slow:
In these red embers' dying glow
The forms of Fancy come and go.
An island-farm—broad seas of corn
Stirred by the wandering breath of morn— The happy spot where I was born.
The picture fadeth in its place:
Amid the glow I seem to trace
The shifting semblance of a face.
'Tis now a little childish form—
Red lips for kisses pouted warm—
And elf-locks tangled in the storm.
'Tis now a grave and gentle maid,
At her own beauty half afraid,
Shrinking, and willing to be stayed.
Oh, time was young, and life was warm,
When first I saw that fairy form,
Her dark hair tossing in the storm.
And fast and free these pulses played,
When last I met that gentle maid—
When last her hand in mine was laid.
Those locks of jet are turned to gray,
And she is strange and far away
That might have been mine own to-day—
That might have been mine own, my dear,
Through many and many a happy year—
That might have sat beside me here.
Ay, changeless through the changing scene,
The ghostly whisper rings between,
The dark refrain of 'might have been.'
The race is o'er I might have run,
The deeds are past I might have done,
And sere the wreath I might have won.
Sunk is the last faint flickering blaze;
The vision of departed days
Is vanished even as I gaze.
The pictures with their ruddy light
Are changed to dust and ashes white,
And I am left alone with night.
# Phantasmagoria and Other Poems/Beatrice

BEATRICE.
In her eyes is the living light
Of a wanderer to earth
From a far celestial height:
Summers five are all the span—
Summers five since Time began
To veil in mists of human night
A shining angel-birth.
Does an angel look from her eyes?
Will she suddenly spring away,
And soar to her home in the skies?
Beatrice! Blessing and blessed to be!
Beatrice! Still as I gaze on thee,
Visions of two sweet maids arise,
Whose life was of yesterday:
Of a Beatrice pale and stern,
With the lips of a dumb despair,
With the innocent eyes that yearn—
Yearn for the young sweet hours of life,
Far from sorrow and far from strife,
For the happy summers that never return,
When the world seemed good and fair:
Of a Beatrice glorious, bright—
Of a sainted, ethereal maid,
Whose blue eyes are deep fountains of light,
Cheering the poet that broodeth apart,
Filling with gladness his desolate heart,
Like the moon when she shines thro' a cloudless night
On a world of silence and shade.
And the visions waver and faint,
And the visions vanish away
That my fancy delighted to paint—
She is here at my side, a living child,
With the glowing cheek and the tresses wild,
Nor death-pale martyr, nor radiant saint,
Yet stainless and bright as they.
For I think, if a grim wild beast
Were to come from his charnel-cave,
From his jungle-home in the East—
Stealthily creeping with bated breath,
Stealthily creeping with eyes of death—
He would all forget his dream of the feast,
And crouch at her feet a slave.
She would twine her hand in his mane,
She would prattle in silvery tone
Like the tinkle of summer rain—
Questioning him with her laughing eyes,
Questioning him with a glad surprise,
Till she caught from those fierce eyes again
The love that lit her own.
And be sure, if a savage heart,
In a mask of human guise,
Were to come on her here apart—
Bound for a dark and deadly deed,
Hurrying past with pitiless speed—
He would suddenly falter and guiltily start
At the glance of her pure blue eyes.
Nay, be sure, if an angel fair,
A bright seraph undefiled,
Were to stoop from the trackless air,
Fain would she linger in glad amaze—
Lovingly linger to ponder and gaze,
With a sister's love and a sister's care,
On the happy, innocent child.
# Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Series II/Volume XII/Gregory the Great/Register of Epistles/Book V/Chapter 17

Epistle XXXVI.
To Severus, Scholasticus
Gregory to Severus, Scholasticus to the Exarch.
Those who assist judges and are bound to them by sincere attachment ought to advise them and suggest to them what may both save their souls and not derogate from their reputation. This being so, since we know with what sincere loyalty you love the most excellent Exarch, we have been careful to inform your Greatness of the things that have been done, that, being aware of them, you may move him to assent to them reasonably.
Know then that Agilulph, King of the Lombards, is not unwilling to conclude a general peace, if only the lord Patricius will consent to an arbitration. For he complains that many acts of violence were committed in his regions during the time of peace. And since, if reasonable grounds for arbitration should be found, he desires to have satisfaction made to himself, he also himself promises to make satisfaction in all ways, if it should appear that any wrong was committed on his side during the peace. Since then it is no doubt reasonable to agree to what he asks, there ought to be an arbitration, that, if any wrongs have been done on either side, they may be adjusted; so that it may be possible, with the protection of God, to establish a general peace; for how necessary for us all this is you well know. Act therefore wisely as you have been wont to do, that the most excellent Exarch may consent to this without delay, lest peace should appear to be refused by him, as should not be. For, should he be unwilling to consent, he indeed [Agilulph] again promises to conclude a special peace with us; but we know that divers islands and other places would undoubtedly in that case be ruined. However, let him [the Exarch] consider these things, and hasten to make peace, to the end that at any rate during this cessation of hostilities we may have some degree of quiet, and the forces of the republic may with the help of God be the better repaired for resistance.

## Footnotes

* ↑ “Scholasticus—Quivis eloquens, disertus, oratoriæ facultatis et politiaris literaturæ studiis eruditus.—Advocatus, patronus, qui causam in foro agit; sed proprie peritus, eloquens, disertus patronus (Cod. Theod).” [D’Arnis’ Lexicon Manuale.]  Severus may be concluded to have been the Exarch’s legal adviser.
# Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Series II/Volume XII/Gregory the Great/Register of Epistles/Book V/Chapter 21

Epistle XLII.
To Sebastian, Bishop.
Gregory to Sebastian, Bishop of Sirmium.
I have received the most sweet and pleasant letter of thy Fraternity, which, though you are never absent from my heart, has nevertheless made your Holiness as it were present with me bodily. But I beseech Almighty God to protect you with His right hand, and to grant you a tranquil life here, and, when it shall please Him, eternal rewards. But I beg you, if you love me with that love wherewith you always loved me when we were together, to pray for me more earnestly, that so Almighty God may loose me from the bands of my sins, and make me to stand free in His sight, released from the burden of this corruption. For, however inestimable be the sweetness of the heavenly country for drawing one towards it, yet there are many sorrows in this life to impel us daily to the love of heavenly things.  And these only please me exceedingly from the very fact that they do not allow anything to please me in this world.
For we can by no means describe, most holy brother, what we suffer in this land at the hands of your friend, the lord Romanus. Yet I may briefly say that his malice towards us has surpassed the swords of the Lombards; so that the enemies who kill us seem kinder than the judges of the republic, who by their malice, rapines, and deceits wear us out with anxiety. And to bear at the same time the charge of bishops and clergy, and also of monasteries and people, and to watch anxiously against the plots of the enemy, and to be ever suspicious of the deceitfulness and malice of the dukes; what labours and what sorrows all this involves, your Fraternity may the more truly estimate as you more purely love me who suffer these things
Furthermore, while addressing you with the greeting that I owe you, I inform you that it has come to my knowledge from the report of Boniface the defensor, that our brother the most holy lord Anastasius the patriarch has wished to commit to you the government of the Church in one of his cities, and that you have refused your assent. This your feeling and your wisdom I most gladly approve of, and strongly commend; and I account you happy, and myself unhappy in having consented at such a time as this to undertake the government of the Church. If, however, by any chance, in condescension to your brethren, and as being intent on works of mercy, you should ever decide to consent to such a proposal, I beg you by no means to prefer any one else’s love to mine. For there are in the island of Sicily Churches without bishops, and, if by the guidance of God you are pleased to take the government of a Church, you will be able to do this better near the threshold of the blessed apostle Peter, with his aid. But if you are not so pleased, remain happily as you are, that this resolution may continue in you; and pray for us unhappy ones. Now may Almighty God keep you under His protection, in whatever place it be His will that you should be, and bring you to heavenly rewards.

## Footnotes

* ↑ Romanus Patricius, the Exarch.
* ↑ Viz. of Antioch.
# Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Series II/Volume XII/Gregory the Great/Register of Epistles/Book V/Chapter 16

Epistle XXX.
To Mauricius Augustus.
Gregory to Mauricius, &c.
The Piety of my Lords, which has been wont mercifully to sustain your servants, has shone forth here in so kind a supply that the need of all the feeble has been relieved by the succour of your bounty. On this account we all with prayers and tears beseech Almighty God, who has moved the heart of your Clemency to do this thing, that He would preserve the empire of our Lords safe in His unfailing love, and by the aid of His own majesty extend their victories in all nations. The thirty pounds of gold which my fellow-servant Busa brought, Scribo has distributed faithfully to priests, persons in need, and others. And, since certain females devoted to a religious life (sanctimoniales fœminæ) have come to this city from divers provinces, having fled hither after captivity, of whom some, so far as there was room for them, have been placed in monasteries, but others, who could not be taken in, lead a life of singular destitution, it has been thought good that what could be spared from the relief of the blind, maimed and feeble should be distributed to them, so that not only needy natives, but also strangers who arrive here, might receive of the compassion of our Lords. Hence it has been brought about that all alike with one accord pray for the life of our lords, that so Almighty God may give you a long and quiet life, and grant to the most happy offspring of your Piety to flourish long in the Roman republic. The pay also of the soldiers has been so distributed by my aforesaid fellow-servant Scribo, in the presence also of the glorious Castus, magister militum, that all received with thanks the gifts of our lords under due discipline, and abstained from all murmuring such as was formerly wont to prevail among them.

## Footnotes

* ↑ Or Scribo may be the official designation of the officer commissioned to distribute the imperial bounty. Cf. II. 32, note 7.
* ↑ Or Scribo may be the official designation of the officer commissioned to distribute the imperial bounty. Cf. II. 32, note 7.
# Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Series II/Volume XII/Gregory the Great/Register of Epistles/Book V/Chapter 14

Epistle XXVI.
To the people of Ravenna.
Gregory to the clergy, gentry, and common people of Ravenna.
Having been informed of the death of your bishop, we have taken care to delegate to our brother and fellow-bishop Severus of Ficulum the visitation of the bereaved Church, to whom we have given in charge to allow nothing with respect to the promotions of the clergy, the revenues, ornaments, and ministrations, to be usurped by any one. It is for you to render obedience to his assiduous exhortations. According to custom.

## Footnotes

* ↑ Cf. II. 6, note 3.
# Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Series II/Volume XII/Gregory the Great/Register of Epistles/Book V/Chapter 15

Epistle XXIX.
To Vincomalus, Guardian (Defensorem).
Gregory to Vincomalus, &c.
With a view to the advantage of the Church it is our will and pleasure, that, if thou art held bound by no condition of, or liability to, bodily service, and hast not been a cleric of any other city, and if there is no canonical objection to thee, thou take the office of guardian of the Church, that thou mayest execute incorruptly and with alacrity whatever may be enjoined thee by us for the benefit of the poor, using this privilege which after deliberation we have conferred upon thee, so as to do thy diligence faithfully in accomplishing all that may be enjoined on thee by us, as having to render an account of thy doings under the judgment of our God. This epistle we have dictated, to be committed to writing, to Paterius, notary of our Church; In the month of March, Indiction 13.

## Footnotes

* ↑ We have in this epistle the form of appointment to the office of Defensor Ecclesiæ. Cf. XI. 38. From IX. 62 it appears that the functions of the office had in some cases been usurped by persons not duly authorized, as it is there ordered that none should be recognized but such as possessed letters of appointment. The only duties of the office specified in this form of appointment have reference to the poor—“pro pauperum commodis;” but it is evident from the many epistles addressed to defensores, that they had a much wider scope. See Prolegomena, p. vii.
# Octavia (Seneca)

* related portals: Drama.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
Seneca's tragedy Octavia is a fabula praetexta, and the only surviving historical Roman drama. Although the play has traditionally been attributed to Seneca, modern scholarship casts doubt on this attribution.
English-language translations of Octavia include:
* Octauia, translated by Thomas Nuce in Seneca, his tenne tragedies, translated into Englyſh (1581)
* Octavia, translated by Watson Bradshaw (1902)
* Octavia, translated by Frank Justus Miller (1907)
This work is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago. Translations of this work may be copyrighted.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# October (Coates)

LibriVox audio recordings for this poem are available here.
"Sweet are the woodland notes"
* Coates, Florence Earle (1891), "October" in Lippincott's Monthly Magazine (October 1891).
* Coates, Florence Earle (1898), "October" in Poems.
* Coates, Florence Earle (1916), "October" in Poems I.

## References

* ↑ View this version at Google Books.
# Ode

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Ode."
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
"An Ode" redirects here
* Ode, a poem by Josephine Daskam Bacon
* Ode, a poem by Mary Elizabeth Blake
* Ode (1848), a poem by Anne Lynch Botta ("Our patriot sires are gone")
* Ode, inscribed to W. H. Channing, a poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson ("Though loath to grieve")
* Ode, sung in the Town Hall, Concord, July 4, 1857, a poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson ("O tenderly the haughty day"). Also published as "Ode sung in the Town Hall"
* Ode (in Sapphic metre), a poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Petre Grimm
* Ode, a poem by Richard Watson Gilder ("I am the spirit of the morning sea")
* Ode, a poem by Richard Watson Gilder ("In the white midday's full, imperious show")
* Ode, a poem by John Keats ("Bards of Passion and of Mirth")
* Ode (1874), a poem by Arthur O'Shaughnessy ("We are the music makers")
* Ode (1807), a poem by William Wordsworth ("There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream")
* "An Ode" ("Nights were short, and daies were long"), a poem by Richard Barnfield, from Cynthia, with certaine Sonnets and the Legend of Cassandra (1595)
* "An Ode" ("As it fell upon a day"), a poem by Richard Barnfield, from Poems in divers humors (1598)
* "An Ode" ("Arise, arise, arise!"), a poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1820)

## See also

* Odes
# Ode. To Lucasta. The Rose.

          I.
Sweet serene skye-like Flower, Haste to adorn her Bower :  From thy long clowdy bed,  Shoot forth thy damaske head.
          II.
New-startled blush of Flora ! The griefe of pale Aurora,  Who will contest no more ;  Haste, haste, to strowe her floore.
          III.
Vermilion Ball that's given From lip to lip in Heaven ;  Love's Couches cover-led :  Haste, haste, to make her bed.
          IV.
Dear Offspring of pleas'd Venus, And Jollie, plumpe Silenus ;  Haste, haste, to decke the Haire  Of th' only, sweetly Faire.
          V.
See ! Rosie is her Bower, Her floore is all this Flower ;  Her Bed a Rosie nest  By a Bed of Roses prest.
          VI.
But early as she dresses, Why fly you her bright Tresses ?  Ah ! I have found I feare ;
 Because her Cheekes are neere.
# October Sonnet

A poem from the collection Podzimní sonety ("Autumn Sonnets"), 1892.
English-language translations of Sonet říjnový include:
* "October Sonnet⁠", in Anthology of Modern Slavonic Literature in Prose and Verse (1919)
* "October sonnet", in Modern Czech Poetry (1920).