Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/456

418 Order, courage, return;

Eyes rekindling, and prayers,

Follow your steps as ye go.

Ye fill up the gaps in our files,

Strengthen the wavering line,

Stablish, continue our march,

On, to the bound of the waste,

On, to the City of God.

HEINE'S GRAVE.

"Henri Heine"—'tis here!

The black tombstone, the name

Carved there—no more; and the smooth

Swarded alleys, the limes

Touched with yellow by hot

Summer, but under them still,

In September's bright afternoon,

Shadow, and verdure, and cool.

Trim Montmartre! the faint

Murmur of Paris outside;

Crisp everlasting-flowers,

Yellow and black, on the graves.

Half blind, palsied, in pain,

Hither to come, from the streets'

Uproar, surely not loath

Wast thou, Heine! to lie

Quiet, to ask for closed

Shutters, and darkened room,

And cool drinks, and an eased

Posture, and opium, no more;

Hither to come, and to sleep

Under the wings of Renown.