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By the Aurelian Wall and Other Elegies

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{76} <h2>TO RAPHAEL</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> Master of adored Madonnas, What is this men say of thee? Thou wert something less than honor’s Most exact epitome? </div> <div class="stanza"> Yes, they say you loved too many, Loved too often, loved too well. Just as if there could be any Over-loving, Raphael!{77} </div> <div class="stanza"> Was it, “Sir, and how came this tress, Long and raven? Mine are gold!” You should have made Art your mistress, Lived an anchorite and old! </div> <div class="stanza"> Ah, no doubt these dear good people On familiar terms with God, Could devise a parish steeple Built to heaven without a hod. </div> <div class="stanza"> You and Solomon and Cæsar Were three fellows of a kind; Not a woman but to please her You would leave your soul behind.{78} </div> <div class="stanza"> Those dead women with their beauty, How they must have loved you well,— Dared to make desire a duty, With the heretics in hell! </div> <div class="stanza"> And your brother, that Catullus, What a plight he must be in, If those silver songs that lull us Were result of mortal sin! </div> <div class="stanza"> If the artist were ungodly, Prurient of mind and heart, I must think they argue oddly Who make shrines before his art.{79} </div> <div class="stanza"> Not the meanest aspiration Ever sprung from soul depraved Into art, but art’s elation Was the sanctity it craved. </div> <div class="stanza"> Oh, no doubt you had your troubles, Devils blue that blanched your hope. I dare say your fancy’s bubbles, Breaking, had a taste of soap. </div> <div class="stanza"> Did your lady-loves undo you In some mediæval way? Ah, my Raphael, here’s to you! It is much the same to-day.{80} </div> <div class="stanza"> Did their tantalizing laughter Make your wisdom overbold? Were you fire at first; and after, Did their kisses leave you cold? </div> <div class="stanza"> Did some fine perfidious Nancy, With the roses in her hair, Play the marsh-fire to your fancy Over quagmires of despair? </div> <div class="stanza"> My poor boy, were there more flowers In your Florence and your Rome, Wasting through the gorgeous hours, Than your two hands could bring home?{81} </div> <div class="stanza"> Be content; you have your glory; Life was full and sleep is well. What the end is of the story, There’s no paragraph to tell. </div> </div></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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