DEMON AND BEAST
 
 FOR certain minutes at the least
 That crafty demon and that loud beast
 That plague me day and night
 Ran out of my sight;
 Though I had long perned in the gyre,
 Between my hatred and desire.
 I saw my freedom won
 And all laugh in the sun.
 The glittering eyes in a death's head
 Of old Luke Wadding's portrait said
 Welcome, and the Ormondes all
 Nodded upon the wall,
 And even Strafford smiled as though
 It made him happier to know
 I understood his plan.
 Now that the loud beast ran
 There was no portrait in the Gallery
 But beckoned to sweet company,
 For all men's thoughts grew clear
 Being dear as mine are dear.
 But soon a tear-drop started up,
 For aimless joy had made me stop
 Beside the little lake
 To watch a white gull take
 A bit of bread thrown up into the air;
 Now gyring down and perning there
 He splashed where an absurd
 Portly green-pated bird
 Shook off the water from his back;
 Being no more demoniac
 A stupid happy creature
 Could rouse my whole nature.
 Yet I am certain as can be
 That every natural victory
 Belongs to beast or demon,
 That never yet had freeman
 Right mastery of natural things,
 And that mere growing old, that brings
 Chilled blood, this sweetness brought;
 Yet have no dearer thought
 Than that I may find out a way
 To make it linger half a day.
 O what a sweetness strayed
 Through barren Thebaid,
 Or by the Mareotic sea
 When that exultant Anthony
 And twice a thousand more
 Starved upon the shore
 And withered to a bag of bones!
 What had the Caesars but their thrones?