21

HAVE fair fallen, O fair, fair have fallen, so dear

To me, so arch-especial a spirit as heaves in Henry Purcell,

An age is now since passed, since parted; with the reversal

Of the outward sentence low lays him, listed to a heresy, here.

Not mood in him nor meaning, proud fire or sacred fear,

Or love or pity or all that sweet notes not his might nursle:

It is the forgèd feature finds me; it is the rehearsal

Of own, of abrupt self there so thrusts on, so throngs the ear.