LYRICAL AND DRAMATIC. 149
Or, like the comet, the wild race may end
Out into darkness, and our circle bend
Round to all glory in a sudden sweep,
And speed triumphant with the sun to friend.
Hope will not leave my home. She knows my tears,
My angers and caprices ; still my ears
Listen to singing voices, till I weep
Once more, less sadly, and set hounds on fears.
She will not leave me comfortless, And why?
Through the dimmed glory of my clouded eye
She catches one sharp glint of love for her :
She will not leave me ever till I die.
Nay, though I die. Beyond the distant gloom
Heaven springs, a fountain, out of Change’s womb!
Time would all men within the grave inter—
For Time himself shall no god find a tomb?
Glory and love and work precipitate
The end of man’s desire—so sayeth Fate.
Man answers: Love is stronger, work more sure,
Glory more fadeless than his shafts abate.
Though «all worlds fail, the pulse of Life be still,
God fall, all darken, he hath not his will
Of deeds beyond recall, that shall endure :
For us, these three divinest glasses fill,