12.

But I turn my back on the world: I take
Your hand, and kneel, and lay to my lips.
Bid me live, Edith! Let me slake

Thirst at your presence! Fear no slips!
'Tis your slave shall pay, while his soul endures,
Full due, love's whole debt, summum jus.
My queen shall have high observance, planned
Courtship made perfect, no least line

Crossed without warrant. There you stand, Warm too, and white too: would this wine Had washed all over that body of yours,

Ere I drank it, and you down with it, thus!

ABT VOGLER.

(AFTER HE HAS BEEN EXTEMPORIZING UPON THE MUSICAL INSTRUMENT OF HIS INVENTION.)

F

ABT VOGLER.

1.

WOULD that the structure brave, the manifold music I

build,

Bidding my organ obey, calling its keys to their

work,

Claiming each slave of the sound, at a touch, as when Solomon willed

Armies of angels that soar, legions of demons that lurk,

Man, brute, reptile, fly,-alien of end and of aim,

Adverse, each from the other heaven-high, hell-deep

removed,

Should rush into sight at once as he named the ineffable Name,

And pile him a palace straight, to pleasure the princess he loved!