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to redeemVenice. I was not worthy — nor may man,Till one as Christ shall come again, be foundWorthy to think, speak, strike, foresee, foretell,The thought, the word, the stroke, the dawn, the day,That verily and indeed shall bid the deadLive, and this old dear land of all men's loveArise and shine for ever: but if ChristCame, haply such an one may come, and doWith hands and heart as pure as his a workThat priests themselves may mar not. Faliero, Act V. Sc. 3. Marino Faliero (1885)

Poems and Ballads (1866-89), The Triumph of Time Контексте: p>Before our lives divide for ever,While time is with us and hands are free,(Time, swift to fasten and swift to severHand from hand, as we stand by the sea)I will say no word that a man might sayWhose whole life's love goes down in a day;For this could never have been; and never,Though the gods and the years relent, shall be.Is it worth a tear, is it worth an hour,To think of things that are well outworn?Of fruitless husk and fugitive flower,The dream foregone and the deed forborne?Though joy be done with and grief be vain,Time shall not sever us wholly in twain;Earth is not spoilt for a single shower;But the rain has ruined the ungrown corn.</p

Faliero, Act V. Sc. 2. Marino Faliero (1885) Контексте: Farewell, and peace be with you if it may.I have lost, ye have won this hazard: yet perchanceMy loss may shine yet goodlier than your gainWhen time and God give judgment. If there beTruth, true is this, that I desired the rightAnd ye with hands as red sustain the wrongAs mine had been in triumph. Have your will:And God send each no bitterer end than mine.

John Knox as portrayed in Bothwell : A Tragedy (1874) Act I, Sc. 2. Bothwell : A Tragedy (1874) Контексте: Sins are sin-begotten, and their seedBred of itself and singly procreative;Nor is God served with setting this to thisFor evil evidence of several shame,That one may say, Lo now! so many are they;But if one, seeing with God-illumined eyesIn his full face the encountering face of sin,Smite once the one high-fronted head, and slay,His will we call good service. For myself,If ye will make a counsellor of me,I bid you set your hearts against one thingTo burn it up, and keep your hearts on fire,Not seeking here a sign and there a sign,Nor curious of all casual sufferances,But steadfast to the undoing of that thing doneWhereof ye know the being, however it be,And all the doing abominable of God.Who questions with a snake if the snake sting?Who reasons of the lightning if it burn?While these things are, deadly will these things be;And so the curse that comes of cursed faith.

Second chorus, lines 1-12. Atalanta in Calydon (1865) Контексте: Before the beginning of yearsThere came to the making of manTime with a gift of tears,Grief with a glass that ran,Pleasure with pain for leaven,Summer with flowers that fell,Remembrance fallen from heaven,And Madness risen from hell,Strength without hands to smite,Love that endures for a breath;Night, the shadow of light,And Life, the shadow of death.

Poems and Ballads (1866-89), The Triumph of Time Контексте: p>I had grown pure as the dawn and the dew,You had grown strong as the sun or the sea.But none shall triumph a whole life through:For death is one, and the fates are three.At the door of life, by the gate of breath,There are worse things waiting for men than death;Death could not sever my soul and you,As these have severed your soul from me.You have chosen and clung to the chance they sent you,Life sweet as perfume and pure as prayer.But will it not one day in heaven repent you?Will they solace you wholly, the days that were?Will you lift up your eyes between sadness and bliss,Meet mine, and see where the great love is,And tremble and turn and be changed? Content you;The gate is strait; I shall not be there.</p

Poems and Ballads (1866-89), The Triumph of Time Контексте: p>I shall go my ways, tread out my measure,Fill the days of my daily breathWith fugitive things not good to treasure,Do as the world doth, say as it saith;But if we had loved each other — O sweet,Had you felt, lying under the palms of your feet,The heart of my heart, beating harder with pleasureTo feel you tread it to dust and death —Ah, had I not taken my life up and givenAll that life gives and the years let go,The wine and honey, the balm and leaven,The dreams reared high and the hopes brought low?Come life, come death, not a word be said;Should I lose you living, and vex you dead?I never shall tell you on earth; and in heaven,If I cry to you then, will you hear or know?</p

Poems and Ballads (1866-89), The Triumph of Time Контексте: p>It is not much that a man can saveOn the sands of life, in the straits of time,Who swims in sight of the great third waveThat never a swimmer shall cross or climb.Some waif washed up with the strays and sparsThat ebb-tide shows to the shore and the stars;Weed from the water, grass from a grave,A broken blossom, a ruined rhyme.There will no man do for your sake, I think,What I would have done for the least word said.I had wrung life dry for your lips to drink,Broken it up for your daily bread:Body for body and blood for blood,As the flow of the full sea risen to floodThat yearns and trembles before it sink,I had given, and lain down for you, glad and dead.</p

Poems and Ballads (1866-89), The Triumph of Time Контексте: p>We had stood as the sure stars stand, and movedAs the moon moves, loving the world; and seenGrief collapse as a thing disproved,Death consume as a thing unclean.Twain halves of a perfect heart, made fastSoul to soul while the years fell past;Had you loved me once, as you have not loved;Had the chance been with us that has not been.I have put my days and dreams out of mind,Days that are over, dreams that are done.Though we seek life through, we shall surely findThere is none of them clear to us now, not one.</p

Poems and Ballads (1866-89), The Triumph of Time Контексте: The loves and hours of the life of a man,They are swift and sad, being born of the sea.Hours that rejoice and regret for a span,Born with a man's breath, mortal as he;Loves that are lost ere they come to birth,Weeds of the wave, without fruit upon earth.I lose what I long for, save what I can,My love, my love, and no love for me!

The Age of Shakespeare (1908) Контексте: Æschylus is above all things the poet of righteousness. "But in any wise, I say unto thee, revere thou the altar of righteousness": this is the crowning admonition of his doctrine, as its crowning prospect is the reconciliation or atonement of the principle of retribution with the principle of redemption, of the powers of the mystery of darkness with the coeternal forces of the spirit of wisdom, of the lord of inspiration and of light. The doctrine of Shakespeare, where it is not vaguer, is darker in its implication of injustice, in its acceptance of accident, than the impression of the doctrine of Æschylus. Fate, irreversible and inscrutable, is the only force of which we feel the impact, of which we trace the sign, in the upshot of Othello or King Lear. The last step into the darkness remained to be taken by "the most tragic" of all English poets. With Shakespeare — and assuredly not with Æschylus — righteousness itself seems subject and subordinate to the masterdom of fate: but fate itself, in the tragic world of Webster, seems merely the servant or the synonym of chance. The two chief agents in his two great tragedies pass away — the phrase was, perhaps, unconsciously repeated — "in a mist": perplexed, indomitable, defiant of hope and fear bitter and sceptical and bloody in penitence or impenitence alike. And the mist which encompasses the departing spirits of these moody and mocking men of blood seems equally to involve the lives of their chastisers and their victims. Blind accident and blundering mishap — "such a mistake", says one of the criminals, "as I have often seen in a play" — are the steersmen of their fortunes and the doomsmen of their deeds. The effect of this method or the result of this view, whether adopted for dramatic objects or ingrained in the writer's temperament, is equally fit for pure tragedy and unfit for any form of drama not purely tragic in evolution and event.

"The Altar of Righteousness" in Harper's Monthly (June 1904). Контексте: God by God flits past in thunder, till His glories turn to shades;God to God bears wondering witness how His gospel flames and fades.More was each of these, yet they were, than man their servant seemed:Dead are all of these, and man survives who made them while he dreamed.

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