9

Panieke, And oak-girls and the Maelids
Have all the wood. Our olive Sirmio
Lies in its burnished mirrour, and the Mounts Balde
and Riva
Are alive with song, and all the leaves are full of
voices.

"Non e fuggi."

It is not gone, Metastasio
We have that world about us
And the clouds bow under the lake
and there are folk upon them
Going their windy ways, moving by Riva,
By the western shore, far as Lonato,
And the water is full of silvery, almond-white swimmers.

How shall I start thence, how begin the progress ?
Pace naive Ficinus, write, when Hotep Hotep
Was a king in Egypt, or maybe Pharoah, then there
lived a Hermes
Grandfather of the grandfather of that Hermes,
Who was called Trismigistus.

It was the year of Moses,"
Take the story. Start in China
Exult with Shang in sin squatness,
See the sea-monster or a god invent those
squarish bronzes,
Say later that Confucius
taught the world manners,
Started with himself, built out perfection;

10

Or shall I paint you Egypt,
With blue of scarabs, with that greeny turquoise,
Or come up by China, where grey gradual steps
lead up beneath flat sprays of red cedars
Into some Lama's temple

of brown teak wood,
Paint the arches gilt-brown, with trippe cross-beams.
Woven banners on wall, and painted images,
screens fine depicted, showing the lord of peace
and all his worlds and hells and multiplicites
seawaves over-curled, boats with gods upon them,
the flame above the river being Kuanon;
Or Kuanon visible as she comes on the river
Footing a boat that's but one lotus petal

With some proud four-spread genius
leading along, one hand upraised for gladness,
saying: "Is she his friend, the mighty goddess,
Paean, sing hymns, ye reeds
And all ye roots, and herons and swans, be glad.
The Goddess!"
What have I of this life?
Or even nearer,
What have I even of Guido?

Sweet lie ! Was I there truly,
Did I know Or San Michael ?

Let's believe it,
Believe the tomb he leapt was Julia Laeta's,
Friend, I know not even when he led that street charge,

12

O we have worlds enough, and brave decors,
And from these like we guess a soul for man
And build him full of aery populations.

Say that Mantegna has the sterner line

Or here's this new world that's a-burst about us:
Barred lights, great flares, colour turned loose as colour
Form taken down for form, Picasso Balla, or Lewis.

"D'Casella Mia" where once men wrote to sounds
We write to painting ? (for a year) 1915.

Yet send your thought upon the Mantuan palace,
Drear waste, great halls, or that forlorn quarter,
Silk tatters, still 1' the frame, Gonzaga's splendour
Alight with phantoms, and what have we of them,
Or much or little ?

Where do we come upon the ancient people,
"All that I know is that a certain star"

All that I know of one Joios, Tolmosan
Is that in the middle may, going along
A scarce discerned path, turning aside,
In level poplar lands, he found one flower and wept,
"Y a la primera flor, if he wrote
que trobei, tornei em plor," exclaim

There's that one star, and all the rest forgotten,
I've lost my copy that I had in Paris
Out of blue and gilded manuscript,

Canto II.

Viols da Gamba, ancient instruments, and subtle and tinckling sounds bound over and over.

That's not you, Fancy ?

No, his age comes too near, go further afield.

" Yin-Yo laps in the reeds, my guest departs
The maple leaves blot up their shadows,
The sky is full of autumn.

We drink our parting in sakki.

Out of the night, comes troubling lute-music.
And we cry out, asking the singers names
and get this answer.

" many a one
Brought me rich presents, my hair was full of jade
Curiously carved.

And my slashed skirts were drenched in expensive deys,
Dipped in rich crimson, sprinkled with rare wines,
I was well taught my arts at Ga-ma-rio.

and then one year I faded out and married.

["Or you'll a tale of Rome ?", "Society , Her sparrows , Venus' sparrows , our Catullus ,\n\n~~P~e~s~y~o~d~£~w~££~~", "Hung on the phrase , played with it as Mallarme", "Played for a fan \" of reveuse , pourd' que je plenge \" .\n\n£££££££££££££££££££££££

And then amiable, and who to me

Cessing life still and hearing thee,

He who affects opposite thee, facing thee, near thee

God's beer that man is in my sight,

Then ourút still, wrote out & laid from Saquo :

Plays for a tsu " o revenue, pomy" one je blong ".

Hung on the durnee, plays with it sa 4 stillsre
Blahagou.

Society, her sborrowa, our stillsre,

Or you'll be a tale of home?

On to the treachery of 'arrion

and to King Amfos' pardon in the end.

Or you'd have ballads ? hear Hernan Gonzalez
Find sombre light upon reflecting armour
And portents in the wind when de las Nieblas
Set out to sea-fight

Y dar nueva lumbre las armas y hierros ,
Full many a fathomed sea-change in the eyes
That saught with him the salt sea victories .

Another gate ?

Or Kumasaka's ghost come back to tell
The honour of the yout who'd slain him ?
Another gate.

The kerneled walls of Toro, "las almenas"
Afield, a king, come in his unjust cause
Between the chinks aloft flashes the armored figure,
Muy linda, a woman, Helen, a star,
And the king's features ..

"No use, my Liege,
She is your Highness' sister,"

breaks in Alvarez.

"mal fuego s'enciendo".
Such are the gestes of war" told over and over"
And Ignez ?

She was a queen's tire-woman,
Court sinecure, the court of Portugal,
And the young Prince loved her, Pedro,
later called the cruel,

And other courtiers were jealous,
And two of them stabbed her, with the king's connivance.
And he kept quiet for a space of years,
uncommon quiet,
And he came to reign, and had his will upon
the dagger-players,
And held his court, a wedding ceremonial,
He and her dug up corpse in ceremonies,
Crowned with the crown and splendour of Portugal,

A quiet evening and a decorous procession,
Who winked at murder kisses the dead hand,
Does leal homage

"que depois de ser morta foy Rainha"
Dig upamoens, hear out his resonant bombast
Turned to ££ true music "You among the flowers,
As once was roserpine,
"athered thy soulvs light fruit and every blindness,
Thy Enna, the flary mead-land of Mondego
Long art thou sung my maidens in Mondego.

What have you now of her, his linda Ignez

Houtmans in jazz goal for debt in Lisbon
, how long after ?

Contrives a company, the Dutch eat Portugal,

Follow their ships' tracks, Roemer Vischer's daughters

Precieuses, talking in greek, busy with glass engraving,
Vondel, the Eglantine, Dutch renaissance,

The old tale's out of fashion, daggers gone,
And Gaby wears Braganza on her throat,
Commuted, say, another public pearl

Tied to a public gullet, Ah mon reve,
It happened, and now go think,
Another crown, thrown to another dancer,

brings you to modern times?

I knew a man, but where twas is no matter
, born on a farm, he hankered after painting.
His father kept him at work,

he had no luck, married and got four sons,
three died the foruth he sent to Paris,

Ten years of Julian and the ateliers,
ten years of life, his pictures in the salons,

name coming in the press, and when I knew him,
back once agin, in middle Indiana,

Acting as usher in the theatre, painting the

local drug shop and soda-bars,
the local doctors fancy for the mantlepiece,
adoring Æuvis, giving his family back

What they had spent for him, talking of
Italian cities, local excellence at Perugia,

Italian cities, local excellence at pertuis,
that they had agent for him, talking of
accepting Envia, giving his family back

the local doctor fancy for the mantelpiece,
local drug and drugs-pare,

Acting as manner in the theatre, beaufying the
back once again, in middle inebriates,
name crossing in the press, and when I know him,
ten years of life, his pictures in the assemblage,
Ten years of tufian and the stetiferia,
the face of tufian and the stetiferia.

Three died the fourth he went to Paris,
he had no luck, married and got four sons,
His father kept him at work,

Born on a Sunday, he banked after painting,
I know a man, but where was he no major,

Or its too soon , another half cracked fellow ,
John Heydon , worker of miracles , dealer in levitation
, in thoughts upon pure form , in alchemy ,
seer of pretty visions , "servant of god
and secretary of nature" . Full of a
plaintive charm , like Botticelli with half
transparent forms , lacking the vigour of gods .

SALOMÈNE BOTTICELLI

5

Abesse Tres Sinistrari

John Heydon half in trance on Bulverton hill
or as I understand he saw his deceased
Had such a sight, of her, the gracious lady
Decked all in green, with sleeves of yellow silk
slit to elbow, slashed with various purples,
Her eyes were green as glass, her foot was leaf-like.
She was adorned with choicest emeralds

And promised him the way of holy wisdom

"Pretty green bank," began the forgotten poem.

Take the old way, say I have met John Heydon
Saught out of the place he's very Bulverton

Lay on the bank, was plunged deep in swevyn,

And saw the company, Layamon, Chaucer,

pass each in his appropriate robes,
conversed with each, observed the varying fashion,
and then comes "aydon"

I have seen John "aydon"

Let us hear John Heydon.

"Omniformis

Omnis intellectus est ", said he begins by spouting half of
Psellus.

( then comes a note, my assiduous commentator )

Not Psellus " De Daemonibus ", Prophyry's " On Chances "

The 13 th chapter , that every intellect is omniform .
( a fine translation ! )

The 'Magnificent' Lorenzo used the dodge,

Says he met old Ficino .

6

In some Wordsworthian, false pastoral manner,
And they two walked along, stopped at a well head,
and heard deep platitudes about contentment,
From some old fellow with a longer beard;

"A daemon is not a particular intellect,
but is a substance, different from intellect,
breaks in Ficino, ..."

"And is placed in the latitude, or depth of souls." That's out of Proclus, take your pick of them. Valla, more earth and sounder rhetoric, Hear how he praised the Pope, 5th Nicholas.

"A man of parts, skilled in the subtlest sciences,
a patron of the arts, of poetry, and of a fine discernment."
"New comes and a catalogue of all his jewels of bright conversation."
No, you've not read your Elegantiae,
A dull book? Shook the church?
The prefaces, cut, clear and hard.
Quite up to Cicero.

"Know then the Roman speech; a sacrament."
Spread for the nations, eucharist of wisdom
(?? very last, just)
Bread of the liberal arts.

Ha! Sir Blancatz,
Sordello would give your heart to all the princes.

So would this Valla have the heart of Rome,
Some shining speech (shimmering) set out before the people.

Tullianus
Nec bonus christianus ac bonus .

Marius, Du 'ellay, wept for the buildings,
Baldovar
Castiglione, saw Rafael, "lead back the soul
— unto its dead dwelling, "

" broken in middle life ?
bent to submission, took a fat living from the Papacy
( That's in Villari, but Burchardt's statement is different.
The Roman speech
" More than the Roman city .

Holds fast its part among the ever living.

Not by the eagles only was Rome measured.

"Wherever the Roman speech was, there was Rome."

Whereerr the speech crept there was mastery.

Spoke with the laws voice, as while your greek logicians...
More greeks than one. Doughty's "Divine Homeros

Came before sophistry,

and that uncatalogued Andreas Divus,
gave him in latin. 1538 in my edition, the rest uncertain
" Caught up his cadence, word and syllable,
" Down to the ships we went, set mast and sail,
Black keel and beasts for bloody sacrifice.
Weeping we went "

I've strained my ear for <ins>ensa</ins>, ombra, <ins>ensa</ins>,
and cracked my wit on delicate canzoni,
here's but rough meaning

And then went down to the ship, set keel to breakers
Forth on the godly sea,

We set up mast and sail on the swarthy ship
Sheep bore we aboard her, and our bodies also
Heavy with weeping, and winds from sternwards
bore us out onward with bellying canvass
Circe's this craft, the trim-coifed goddess,
Then sat we amid ship

..................

Thus with stretched sail
we want over sea till day's end
Sun to his slumber, shadows o'er all the ocean
Came we then to the bounds of deepest water
To the Kimmerian lands and peopled cities
Covered with close-webbed mist, unpierced ever
with glitter of sunrays
nor with stars stretched, nor looking back from heaven
Swartest night stretched over wretched men there,
Thither we in that ship, unladed sheep there
The ocean flowing backward, came we through to the place
Afore said by Circe.

Here did they rites, Perimedes and Eurylochus
And drawing the keen sword from my hip

25 ....

Poured we libations, unto each of the dead
First mead and then sweet wine
Then water mixed with white flour

And I prayed many a prayer to the sickly death's heads
Set forth in Ithica, sterile bulls as the best
to sacrifice at home, heaping the pyre with goods,
I vowed to sacrifice a sheep, especially to Tiresias,
to Tiresias only.

All black, that went before our flock,
After prayers and vows, tribes of the dead

I prayed to, slew sheep
dark blood flowed in the fosse,
Souls out of Erebus, cadaverous dead, (corpses of dead)
Of brides, of youths, and of many passing old,
Virgins tender, souls stained with recent tears

And many men wounded with lances of bronze,
mauled with bronze lances (heads)
Battle spoil, bearing yet dreary arms,
These many crowding about the (? pyre) [square hole]
From whence, with shouting, pallor upon me,

cried to my men for more beasts
Slaughtered the herds, sheep slain of bronze,
to pour ointment, I cried to the gods
To Pluto the strong, and praised Proserpine,
unsheathed the narrow steel
Drawing the keen blade from my thigh,
sat

sat
I st to keep off the impetuous, impotent dead
From that blood, till I shorn wear
Tiresias,

First came the soul of Elpenor, his friend Elpenor,
Unburied, cast on the wide earth,
Limbs that we left in the house of Circe.

70

Byd

And thou, O king I bid remember me, unwept, unburied,
Heap up mine arms, let my tumulus be by the sea board,
"A man of no fortune, with a name among men to come"
for

Set up my oar, that I rowed amid my fellows
Came then another ghost, whom I beat off, Anticlea,
and then Tiresias. The Theban

holding his golden wand, knew me and spoke first
" Man of ill hour, why come a second time
leaving the sunlight, facing the sunless dead and this
joyless region?

Stand from the fosse, move back, leave me my bloody beaver
bever of blood,
and I will speak you true speeches."

and I stepped back

Sheathing the silvery sword, Dark blood he drank then
and spoke " Lustrous Odysseus " saying that I should
return through spiteful Neptune, over dark seas
Should lose all my companions, foretold me the ways and
the signs.

Came then Anticlea, to whom I answered

"Fate drives me on through these deeps, I saught Tiresias";
I told her news of Troy and thrice her shadow
faded in my embrace

Then had I news of many faded women,
Tyro, Alcmena, Chloris, Chlorin perpulchram,

Heard out their tales by that dark fosse, and sailed
by sirens thence outward and away

My 'id rode up to Burgo,
and the maid of nine years
old
Told of the peoples fear,
spoke the King's writ
Told Diaz banishment
As he from Bivar dismantled,

from the empty pearches of dispersed hawks,
from empty presses, from new desolation
Came riding with his stalwart company up the great hill

to Burgos, in the spring,
And thence to fighting, to down throw of Moors,
And to Valencia rode he, by the Beard !

Muy velida, There was a tale of jingling chivalry
Of pennons spread, and of onrush of lances
Of splintered staves, riven and broken heaumes

and to King Amfos, pardon in the end,
Or will you ballads, or Fernan Gonzales,
Or somber light upon reflecting armour
And protents in the wind, when de las Nieblas

On to the treachery of Carrion,
Dis mantled castles, painted shields a shivered,
Blazons hacked off, piled men and bloody rivers,
On to the treachery of Carrion,

and to King Amfos, pardon in the end,
Or will you ballads, or Fernan Gonzales,
Or somber light upon reflecting armour
And protents in the wind, when de las Nieblas
Set out to sea-fight,
y dar nueva lumbre las armas y hierros,

And arms and irons give off sombre light.

Full many a fathomed sea-change in the eyes
That saught with him the salt sea victories.

["That night with him the salt sea victories\nbegan many a fatigued absence in the sea\nand some and from some off again a little fight\nand some and from some off again

And unto Circe, Buried Elpenor's corpse ."
Lie quiet Divus, keep your -quhaticquet-then-
' And who is Divus ?'

Reader, he is the man I spoke of,
Who had all this from fine Greek to good Latin
" in officina Wechli, Parisiis, 1530
M.D. three X, s eight the year of grace ,
with Aldus on the frogs and a certain ♃ ♃ Cretan 's
" Hymni Deorum ".

The thin clear Tuscan stuff
Gives way before the florid, mellow phrase ,
Take we the goddess !

Venerandam, etc. as per pp. 3

Or Kumasaka's ghost come back to tell
The honour of the youth who had slain him .
These are the tales of war told over and over

Ignez ?

She was a queen's waiting woman
Attendant in the court of Portugal
Loved of Pom Pedro, hated of other's for her Spanish
blood,
Stabbed for the same, with his father's connivance

And when the young prince came to throne,
had out his hour upon the murderers
And courtiers who'd blinked at the deed
Filed in processional before the throne
the king.

and by him this sad form in ceremonies
Ignez da Castro, so from death's arms, still dead
a bridal homage
Dig up Camoens, hear his resonant bombast
turned to true music as he tells it out
" You were among the flowers, as once was Proserpine
Gathered thy soul's light fruit, and every blindness
, Thy Enna the flary mead-land of Mondego
Long art thou sung by maidens in Mondego