"CAMOENS (Before) Ever restless, restless, craving rest— The Imperfect toward Perfection pressed Yea, for the God demands thy best. The world with endless beauty teems, And though evokes new worlds of dreams Hunt then the flying herds of themes! And fan, still fan, thy fervid fire, Until thy crucibled gold shall show That fire can purge as well as glow. In ordered ardour, nobly strong, Flame to the height of epic song.(After) CAMOENS IN THE HOSPITAL What now avails the pageant verse, Trophies and arms with music borne? Base is the world; and some rehearse Now noblest meet ignoble scorn, Vain now thy ardour, vain thy fire, Delirium mere, unsound desire; Fate's knife hath ripped thy corded lyre. Exhausted by the exacting lay, Thou dost but fall a surer prey To wile and guile ill understood; While they who work them, fair in face, Still keep their strength in prudent place, And claim they worthier run life's race, Serving high God with useful good."