^fsmu USSfln 3 ISIw^f fflllll ' 949 ^2 '^y. Cornell University Library The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924086007949 In compliance with current copyright law, Cornell University Library produced this replacement volume on paper that meets the ANSI Standard Z39.48-1992 to replace the irreparably deteriorated original. 1999 A-MS^HS- fjf/^^^i CHORDS. BY E. B. T. MONEY. DEDICATED TO OSCAK BROWNING, LATE ASSISTANT MASTER OF ETON COLLEGE. For Private Circulation. CIVIL SBRVICB PRINTING AND PUBLISHING COMPANY LIMITED, 8 SALISBURY COURT, FLEET STREET, B.C. 1877. K C0 ,/. > s.- - ... "^ :^-t S' '"^^thS^ H % LONDON : TRINTED BY THE CITll SEETICE FEINTING AND PUBIISHING COMPANY LIMITED, 8 SAHSBUBY COURT, FLEET STREET, LONDON, E.G. CONTENTS. Preface .... PAflE 1 Gkrek Mythology : — Preludes .... 5 Perseus ; — I. His Infancy . 9 II. His Setting Out . 11 III. His Journey 13 IV. The Three Gray Sister 3 15 V. The EeTeuge of Perseu IB 16 The Argonauts : — The Sirens 19 Herakles and Hulas 21 Tithonus 27 Theseus 31 Bates .... 33 Tales done into Khymb : — D'Amague 37 St. John In Patmos . 41 The Maid of Astolat :— A Dir§ 'e 43 Aslauga's Tfnight . 45 Ameinocleia . 47 Brothers and Sisters : — First Series . 51 Epithalamium . 58 Second Series . 63 Home Life 67 The Old Home . 70 Evening at Home 71 " The Days that are no m ore 72 In Memoriam: — Of Lieut Eardley Wilmot and Capt. Oharteris . . 77 Of Oottrell, of the Harrow Ele ven 79 Of the Rev. T. F. Stocks 81 Of J. P. B. . . 83 Of J. D. M. . 84 Addresses : — To B. D. S. 89 To Hilda . 90 To B. C. S. . 93 To F. V. H. . . 95 Love and Affection : — An Evening and Four Years : I. 1870 . 99 II. 1872. . 101 III. 1874. . . 103' A Pony's Grave 106 My Friend 108 " The Message" 109 A Memory . 110 Lost .... 114 Won .... 118 The Dance 124 To Her 128 The Music of Nature . 129 Kisses .... 130 Star-wort . 133 The Meadows . 134 Prank 136 Absence and Presence . 137 The Power of Love . 138 CONTENTS. Allegories : — Exodus xxxii. 24 . . . . 141 " I say unto all, Watch !" . . . . 145 Love, the Prompter . 149 To Love .... ... . 150 Faith and Love . . ... . 151 The Commonest Lot . 152 Farewell . 153 Songs : — Morning . . 157 Serenades 158 The Inevitable .... 160 May-day , . . . 161 Past and Present ... 162 Madge's SoCifS .... . 163 Songs Without Rhymes : — Matins . ... 167 Mary . .... . 169 Lyrics : — Lonely . . . . 173 Time . . .... . 174 The old Song . 176 Sympathy . . . . 177 Children . 178 Songs op the River: — River and Brook . 181 Morning . ..... 284 Day . ... . . . 185 Evening . 186 Night . 187 Sea Songs : — The Samphire-gatherer . . . . . 191 "Peace" . 194 The Fisherlad of Scotland . 195 The Seasons : — Spring . . 199 Summer . . . . . 203 Autumn . . .... . 204 Songs or Ohrtstmas-tide : — New Tear's Eve .... . 209 New Tear's Eve in the Past . . 211 After New Tear's Day . 212 Lady Lilian . . .... . 215 A Portrait ... .... . 223 GUSSAGE ... . . ■ . . 229 The Thanksgiving in St. Paul's .... . 237 The Burning of Chicago .... . 245 No Names . . . . . 253 Miscellaneous : — On a Statue of a Praying Boy 261 Vox Humana . 262 A Walk . 268 A Letter . 264 The Two Spirits . 266 The Poet . 269 Merry Rhymes : — A farewell to " the Adventurer" . 273 Confessions ... , . . . 279 The Two Voices, or, Toung and Old . 281 Nappo . 283 Epitaph on Jim, my Dog . 284 Circe : — Act I 287 Act II. . . ... . 296 Act III . . ... . 307 Notks . . . . ... . 313 EERATA. Page 20, line 8. — For the full-stop after " crash," substitute a comma. Page 106, line 5. — For " None of your kindred," Ac, read " Your kindred dreamed not you renown would gain." Page 106, line 7. — For " whisked your name " reaci " tossed your mane." Page 112, line 17. — For '' langhter " read " laughter." Page 131, line 8.— For " Is " read " 'Tis." Page 174, line 3. — For "' through " read " down." Page 261, line 7, 8, 9, 10.—" Out in the chill," tXa,)txuTiv dSca repij/ii." Theocritus. Even in empty kisses There is a sweet delight ; Upon some lips such kisses Could make me dream all night. Tes, dream of Atalanta, Won by the fruit of gold, Since Venus helped the lover And Cupid made him bold. And dream of fair Adonis, Whose sweetness Venus knew ; Death's law for mortals changeless She made for him untrue. Dream of Acontius' love-trick Who wrote, " I wiU be thine " So that the maiden swore it By great Diana's shrine. Dream^ of Aurora's lover, When from the Eastern hUl He saw her chariot rising, A happy mortal still. Dream of Acrisius' daughter. Whose hiding-place love found Or the Aethiopian maiden By Perseus' aword unbound. PRE HIDES. Or dream of Arethusa Beneath the stormy sea By eager Alpheus followed ; He sped more fast than she ! Or dream of lovely Procne To Cephalus re-given ; Love's broken bliss re-fashioned Became a double heaven. Dream of Endymion lying In his untroubled sleep, — No more to laugh he knoweth He knows no more to weep ; In senseless slumber lying Asleep for evermore, With the wind upon the mountain And the sea upon the shore. GREEK MYTHOLOGY. PERSEUS. . I. His Infancy. See the god-like babe and motker Floating out to sea, While the cruel father watches Weeping Danae ; And the winds and waves beat on them Mournfully, Aye, mournfully. Out from the dark blue mountains. Rustling out to sea. From the north-west vale of Argos Unto Danae, Come the soft land-breezes, whispering Pleasantly, Most pleasantly. So they floated on and onward, Up and down the sea ; Sleeps the baby on the bosom Of poor Danae. Knowing not the chest's rude rocking Peacefully, Quite peacefully ! 10 GREEK MYTHOLOGY. Now they pass the last bliie headland Out to open sea, Nothing now but sky and ocean Circles Danaij, Sleepless, to her baby singing Tenderly, So tenderly ! But the breeze is warm and gentle, Placid is the sea. And the sky is lucid azure Over Danae ; Sail Halcyone and Ceyx Lovingly, Still .lovingly ! So a day and night was measured On the sleeping sea, And again a night and morning. Until Danae Faint with hunger grew, and weeping Uselessly, Ah, uselessly. With her cheek against her infant's And her face from sea Upward turned — at last she slumbered, Drooping Danae ! And the while the babe slept likewise, Quietly, So quietly. GREEK MYTHOLOGY. 11 II. His Setting Out. He rode by many a pleasant woody vale, Where shepherds sang or drowsed in sunny sleep The live-long day, or whispered ont their tale Of aching love, unmindful of their sheep ; He rode by pearly lakes and rivers deep. By glittering sea or nestling little town, By stilly pools where murmurous willows weep, By many a league of waVing grass unmown. And many a golden field that reapers soon would reap As some proud bird persistent holds his way, As if with every stroke of his wide sails He threw behind all lures that him might stay. Pierces a path and o'er false air prevails, So Perseus keeps his course and pleasure fails With maid or dance or soothing summer eve. Fragrant with breath of frothy milking-pails. To charm him, so that he the Quest should leave At very thought of which so many a warrior quails. Sometimes a village maid would say " Sir Kjiight, Whither dost ride ? " And he would answer make, " Toward the Land of Everlasting Night, For Honour's high renown and conscience sake : I cannot stay nor any pleasure take Till this thing be accomplished. Fare-thee-well ! " Then would the maid grow pale and her heart ache For that fair Knight, lest great mishap befell In ways more terrible than realms of Pluto's Lake. 12 GREEK MTTHOLOOT. And as he journeys, ever more and more The woods grow scant, the pastnre-lands grow bare, As when one nears a desolate sea-shore ; He leaves behind seductive valleys fair ^nd presses ever on, though trees are rare, Though flowers blossom not nor rivers flow Nor aught but sand and mountain rocks appear, Until where sinks a precipice below He, drawing rein, at last doth to dismount prepare. Upon the edge of that grim vault he stands And peereth over, — bottomless it seems ; He looketh back upon the ridged sands On which the heat in shivering vapours gleams, For still the sun was high and hot his beams ; Then out beyond the precipice, across Toward the imagined Night ; as one who dreams He sees that in that place he and his horse Are tJae sole life ; his brain with many a fancy teems. Then put he on his sandals, never weak, And took his sword and left his wondering ; And as an antelope from jutting peak Of Thrace's hills, as if with eagle's wing, In mid air casts himself with fearless spring, Or as an arrow from a battlement, Shot from an ashen bow and six foot string, So Perseus breasts the abyss, like bolt unpent, And the cleft air upon his wings closed murmuring. GREEK MTTHOLOGT, 13 in. His Journey. Fast followed the hounds of death Over sea and desert sand ; They poised the hair with their dragon breath In the dread TJnshapen Land ! The roar of their wings came down, The wind, with a clanging sound, In the Unnamed Place, that is only known To Heroes horror-bound. Few thought on that pathway bare. The Heroes who trod it spake Of it least, and they who in dreams went there Were better pleased to wake. Fast followed they to the edge Of the everlasting night. And they hovered upon the loathsome ledge, Like eagles on a height. Snow feathers were flying there. And the soil was hard with ice, And the hounds of death in the darksome air Poised o'er the precipice. The Phorcian Sisters Three Mumble together and brood By the sunless shore of the freezing sea On a log of drifted wood. 14 GREEK MYTHOLOGY. And they chant a croning song In the cold white winter hue Of the journeying moon as she wends along, " How old times pass the new ! " There lives not even a fly, Not a moss upon the rocks, Not a seal nor a sea-gull dare come nigh, Only the ocean shocks ! All is clutched in the icy claws ; Sea-surges the wind doth blow Into flecks of foam, but the frothy flaws Fall down in flakes of snow ! It frosted the hair so gray Of the sisters and the bones Of the ice-cliff over their heads, where lay The path of those snaky ones. But well the brave sandals bore The Hero through light and cloud. O'er the desert of sea that has no shore And the everlasting shroud. And fainter and fainter grew The beat of the wings so foul ; And ever more faint as the Hero flew The Gorgons' fearful howl. By the nightfall they were far Behind in the southern sky, Two small black specks, tiU the evening star Brought darkness by and by. GREEK MYTHOLOGY. 15 IV. The Thebb Geat Sistebs. In everlasting Night the Sisters brood, The Three Grray Sisters, by the icy sea, And nodding on a log of drifted wood Crone o'er and o'er an ancient melody. One eye they have, one tooth between the three, And pass them round and round, as they may call, The frosty feathers from the bitter sea. White on the whiteness of their foreheads fall. No moss is green upon the barren strand, No insect flieth in the moon's chill ray ; The cliffs are ice in that Unshapen Land, The cliff -bones stiffen, never touched by day. Three icebergs on, the freezing sea they drift. The Three Gray Sisters, now fast fallen asleep, And when the clouds from dark horizons lift Before the merry southern wind, they weep. 16 GREEK MTTHOLOGT. V. The Revenge of Perseus. The revelry was higH ; the lute and harp Gave just so little music and so much As not to raise the voices of the guests, Yet make him feel at ease who silence kept. The silver cups were starred on every side By light of fifty lamps, with gilded chains Hung from the lofty roof, that swayed and swung. Not more than a hair's breath vibrating ; high In the deep platters was the fruit piled up ; And many a poor Seriphos marketer. Peeping by stealth into the banquet hall, Cursed in his heart the lord who stole his stores Calling it kingly right ; and one there came Who peeped and cursed, and so fared forth and stood Looking across the sea, beneath the stars. And saw the pale white shadow of the moon Shivering upon the waters, wondering when The sweet pale priestess' son would come again, Or whether he would come, or coming, how. For he remembered how, long years agone, The sea washed up (and he could mark the place From where he stood, down by the fisher's hut Near the black rocks) an infant and a maid Within a chest, and how that she had gained A stranger's right of welcome, and the king Had fed and clothed them, till at last the maid So moved the king to love, he bade her take Share of his sceptre ; but was sorely wroth When she, the beggar, haughty as a queen. Refused his suit, and therewith swore an oath He'd have her whether she said yea or nay ; And would have held his purpose, but her son, Perseus, had grown a stalwart god-like youth. And the king, craven-hearted, feared his wrath ; GEEKK MYTHOLOGY. 17 So then contrived a quarrel with the youth, When with his lords he sat one day at meat, And called him bastard-coward : then there rose And died again a sudden crimson heat On Perseus' face, as of a blast of breath Upon a silver plate, and in his hand He clutched the goblet by his side so fiercely That the bowl bent. " I care not for your jeers, " My lords," he said, (for some had mocked at him Being vexed the king preferred a stranger woman To all their daughters) ; " bat if any here " Can to my bravery bear witness, speak ! " None stirred : "Ye fear to speak before the king, " Poor courtier fools ; yet none shall call me coward ! " I here defy a man to name the deed " I dare not." Then maliciously the king : " Ha ! say you so ? Go, fetch Medusa's head ! " Then Perseus' cheeks grew pale, though not from fear, But seeing the trap in which his neck was caught. Then straight he went and ere another day Took ship ; but first to Dian's holy shrine Consigned his mother priestess, where the king Durst never lay a lustful finger on her: And so took ship and never came again. " And yet methinks he wUl once come again," The rustic thought, and so went home and slept. Meanwhile the nig;ht grew older, but the feast More turbulent as the red wine went round. And as the darkness grew, the stars came forth, Light beyond light, as if glad spring, compressed Into a single day, lit up the fields With crowding buttercups, or as the lamps In some dusk shrine are kindled one by one In preparation for a holy rite. The king drank deep ; amid his lords' discourse His voice was loud. " The night is passing hot, — " Ho there ! throw open all the doors," he cried. And as the valves swung back, a mufiied form Stalked from the night up to the monarch's chair ; "How now," he said, "what would'st thou?" Then the form: 18 GEEEK MTTHOLOGT. " Dost thou remem'ber Perseus ? " And thereat, Albeit the voice was low, yet every guest Turned round to look, as when a herd of deer Is startled at a rustling in the wood. The king had started too, yet answered soon. With cruel irony : " Aye well ; so well " That we have written an elegy for him." Then every voice was silent, and the lamps Flared up with reddened flashes when the draught Prom the wide-open doors swept down the hall. The stranger in the silence suddenly Drew off his cloak and cried : " Thou caitiff -king, " Behold Perseus, with that thou bad'st him fetch ! " Then some one started from his chair and tried To reach the door ; perchance he guessed the sequel. Bat from his cloak the other snatched a head Ghastly with viper-locks ; and as they gazed, Not being able to withdraw their eyes From the foul horror, all their blood became Like liquid iron cooling, and their limbs Hardened like clay before the potter's fire. And their eyes fixed witliin their sockets ; so The very silence seemed to grow like stone, Till he who tried to flee fell to the ground With sudden clatter, like a mailed knight. While in their several postures, different moods. Without a groan or any other sign, They stiffened into statues where they sat. . Then stately as before the warrior weird Out of the hall of human marble stalked. GREEK MYTHOLOGY. 19 THE ARGONAUTS. I. The Sirens. The Argo now doth Anthemonsa near ; Over the water steals a magic hymn ; The listless mariner forgets to steer, Forgets to ply the oar, the sails to trim, For pine woods seem to murmur in his ear And plash of fountains cool with marhle rim. So all his labour seemeth passing sore And he would fain have slumber, lotus eat, Dream, idle life away upon the shore Whereon the Sirens weave their music sweet In witching cadence ever more and more, — Fair maidens to the waist, with Harpies' feet. In midmost blue stands many a fleecy cloud. The wind no longer shepherds them along. But hushes overhead his whistling loud. As from the shore breaks forth the Sirens' song : Beneath, long silver shoals of fishes crowd, — The shining shallows whisper as they throng. Gulls on the weedy rocks sit in white hue. And on the sands at limit of the waves Glisten great seals, basking in warm sunshine : All things are listening to the mystic staves, That tell of rest beneath the shady pine And grottoes cool where bubbling water raves. c 2 20 GREEK MTTHOLOGT. Then did a yontli from off the Argo leap, Swam from the prow and sank upon the beach, Crying " Sing on ! " and so fell ofE to sleep, Nor ever marked the bones of men that bleach Ghastly upon the edges of the deep ; For they return not who that island reach. But Orpheus takes his lyre and plucks the strings, ' , Awakes the drowsy sailors with a crash. I ' l-^ And drowns those deadly voices ; as he sings Again the strenuous oar is heard to splash, Again the vessel spreads her snowy wings. And round her prow the dancing billows lash ! '' None of your kindred dreamed for you much fame Nor at a wayward step indignant cried ; You gambolled in blithe colthood, whisked your name. Did sturdy work, enjoyed your com, and — died ! Ah ! I remember (yon and I were young) I clapped my hands behind you as you jogged, Mimicking urged yon on with lisping tongue Through the green lanes, — for you were never flogged. And now, old bachelor, my mother's pet, I know your resting-place ; a mound of soil Is heaped above you, which the dew-drops wet With the only tears that mourned your life of toil. The grass you loved so grows above your head ; Far from the crowded churchyard, all alone. You have your space of earth, more merited Than many a cell where stands a blazoned stone. The church bells sound across the meadow grass, And often-times some little feet I love By this your chilly manger softly pass. Amid cool shadows of the linden grove. LOVE AND AFFECTION. 107 It mast be sweet to sleep so quietly : Even the soft-touched rein no more can grieve, No more the gentle trouble of a sigh For the warm stable now your flanks shall heave ! But in the paddock where you died you lie : I know not where your spirit brave has gone, But over you the poising swallows fly. And by you treads my best beloved one. 108 LOVE AND AFFECTION. MY FEIEND. The heart that boasteth not perception fine Of what in other breeds sonl-agonies, Grauging all passions by the vaunted line Of self- experience, in whose vain eyes All has the hue of half-forgotten dyes, Dreaming not greater depths than their own deeps And those made shallower by gray memories, — ■ The heart that sym.pathy in silence keeps Nor ever jars upon the spii-it's sleeps, When all the world is dead bnt one fair vision. By forethought of the waking, that heart steeps The tired lover from the world's derision, The sinner in his own self -conscious prison, More than the love that pleads, exhorts, or weeps LOVE AND AFFECTION. 109 " THE MESSAGE." A LOVER (in the song) desires to send A message to his maid but death divides .- In vain he sigheth for an angel friend, In vain his tale to lark and cloud confides ; They reach not heaven, wherein his love abides ; Eor thither only music can ascend. And all the lover's longing hath an end When missive to her native land she glides. Tet many a lover is as yonder star, That seemeth poised upon the monntain peak, Tet from the summit lies profoundly far. Separate by more than death, — Love's scimitar, A crescent eyebrow dropped upon her cheek He can discern, — ^yet love he may not speak ! 110 LOTE AND AFFECTION. A MEMORY. Methinks there are some moments of this life Given for ns to store them up like gems In memory's casket ; moments to be heaped Not in the charnel lodges of the past, But in the chambers of the very life, That we m.ay bring them forth to coruscate With beaded glory, like the new-born dew. At certain seasons, holy, full of calm. Such as autumnal eves beneath the elms When all the air is laden with the rose And over meadows where the king-cups are The merry cricket cracks his castanets. Of such a moment would I tell thee now. Now while before me cross and cross the birds. And the slow river rolling ponderously Is chanting praises to the earth and air, — While we and summer are among the fields. It was an evening of the old school days. Things of the past had come to visit me And I was sad ; at twilight, and alone. But with a summer puff the vane will veer. Poised finely on the pivot ! So for me A little matter banishes the gloom. Thus as I sat, the comrade whom I loved Sudden burst in with radiant face and cried " Come out ! Gome out upon the lawn with me ! Leave has been given ; it will be cooler there." Bright were his eyes, but brighter all day long LOVE AND AFFECTION. Ill The sun had flamed until the world was faint. So for dismissal to our several cells Where we were wont to string our Latin verse, And eat and sleep like rabbits in a warren, Our reverent pedagogue, compassionate Thus far for corporal torment, granted us Free entry of his gardens and his lawns. Ah, sweet it sounded to our tired ears ! Sweet as to one who lying sick in town Hears poet's rhyme of dotted daisy fields And hawthorn hedges where the birds are blithe. So when we stood upon the dewy lawn I linked in mine the arm of him I loved And drew him from the others down the paths By dusky shrubberies and garden plots. Upon the laurels shone a yellow moon And yellow lights in every window shone Where loomed the house behind ; the distant lawn Was full of figures indistinct, confused ; Airs that had licked cool marshes by the sea And gathered crispy chillness, fanned our brows ; And all was still, save when the watch-dog barked Far off among the homesteads. Then he spoke : — " What think you is the sweetest thing on earth Of feelings, facts or fancies ? " So abrupt And curious a question well-nigh tripped My tongue, blurting " No sweeter thing there is Than lingering in the garden amid the limes And leaning on the arm of him we love ! " And even when at last I answered him ; Methinks an under-current yearned to him ; For we had quarrelled for some boyish thing With boyish bitterness and grieved anon With boyish passion ; so I made reply, s •yV * '-'' 112 LOVE AND ArFECTION. " Surely the sweetest thing on earth is this — The union anew of sonls estranged." Did rhyme and thought go oftener hand in hand At such a time, I would have answered thus : — Sweeter than love on which content we brood. Sweeter than looks by lovers understood. Purer than pearls that long in seas home lain Is after anger clasping ha/nds again. Metnory of joy that shall not die till death, Sa/oour of intense sweet as angels' breath. Yearning's fulfilment, UJce a summer rain, Is after anger claspimg hands again. Mingling of spirits that before but met. Seventh height of passion dogged by no regret, Pleaswre most perfect, yet aJcin to pain. Is after anger clasping hands again. Ahin to pain, Uke langhter that brings tears. And more akin as troop the gathering years ; Such good 'tis rare beneath the sun to gain As after anger clasping hands again. Thus side by side we turned and turned again, Timing onr measured footsteps pace by pace. And listened to the babel of the bees Where a late swarm hung on the middle hive Loud humming with excitement, though the hour Grew late as to and fro we passed and passed. What sayest thou ? It surely was most sweet, This rambling long among the winding walks, Where arching over us the shaken rose Showered her fragi-ant flakes, and birds afErayed, Beating a sudden 'larum with quick wings. LOVE AND AFFECTION. 113 Fled through the undergrowth, and over all That splendid moon, like some great warrior's shield Hung on the wall when banquet lights are bright Amid dim heights along the West shone out. I pressed his arm ; but soon the churlish bell Rang for the evening prayer, and all flocked in Trom all the deep recesses of the dusk Into the glow of gas-light : shadowy forms Suddenly clothed with shape and comeliness, As when across the broad belt of the moon, A silver path upon the summer sea, ■ Ships glide, and all their milk-white sails stand clear Outlined against the ever-throbbing waves. So all flocked in to close the day with prayer. 114 LOVE AND AFFECTION. LOST. I HAVE a picture by me of a maid with auburn hair, A maid who, I remember, in her youth was very fair, When we were children, roving where the rivers part and meet And crispy dock-leaves crackle at the brush of wandering feet. We wandered all the summer time together, she and I, While our fathers fished for holiday by Derwent and by Wye ; I loved her with a boyish love when summer was no more And the autumn apple fell to earth and rotted at the core ; I loved her when we parted and our ways grew different. When the hours along the river and the whispering woods were spent • And when her carriage rolled away and dipped beneath the hill I took my rod and wandered to the pool beside the mill : I could not fish ; but always on the stream I seemed to trace An image often mirrored there — a rosy little face ! And as the mill-wheel circled and the paddles rose and sank Revolved persistent memories of the pool and broken bank. Then letters passed between us, smeared with childish blot and scrawl. Till the spelling grew more common and the strokes were straight and tail ; She could not trust I loved her then — 'twas but a childish pain I did not dare to test desire to see her face again. L By wordless pac)^ of mutual thought we ceased to write, and so I doubt not she forgets me and the days of long ago. LOVE AND AFFECTION. 115 Yet sometimeB still what might have happed that summer-tide I dream, If we had not been children when we met beside the stream ; And sometimes I remember, when we wandered far away- Down rabbit-paths and tangle-wood one sunny summer day, How, envious of my happiness, had bounced a brindled bee And stung me as I plucked for her the wood-anemone. But she, my little angel, gathered herbs to heal the wound And pressed them to the poisoned place in childish grief profound, And I think, " little angel, could'st thou soothe all sores as well, Would we had not been children when we wandered down the dell." 116 LOVE AND ArFECTION. II. I WANDEEID into the garden ; The wind was wild in the trees ; With music among the fir- woods Like the msh of winter seas ; It was cool against my forehead As I stood and drank it in And the stars were faint above me Through a net of vapour thin. I saw through an open window, Two lovers sat in the light. And each gave the other with kisses And long lingering look, " Good night." T thought how they'd all outstripped me In the wooing and race of love. And my spirit was crushed within me And faint as the stars above. Till sudden warm life came throbbing As they parted to love-blessed sleep, And caught in a storm of passion I wept as I seldom weep. LOVE AND AFFECTION. 117 ni. The man that moaneth on his loved one's breast " Not mine not mine," — the sad satiety Of glutted love, — the passion of unrest. Turn me, my God, to thee. Doubt begets doubt : pain doubles upon pain : The sick man turns, and turning sleeps the less : 'Twere better from all yearning to refrain And wait in trustfulness. So down beneath Thee on Thy garment's hem, My God, I fall ; and passion groweth chill Marking the way that led from Bethlehem To Calvary's crested hill. 118 LOVE AND AFFECTION. WON. BEST-BELOVED, I watoh yon there Between my fingers' tiny chink, The room grows dark, I scarce can hear The chords that at thy bidding stir, I seem a sleepy draught to drink, I say, " I must not dream of her !" Love — how shall I not dream of it When I have made its beanty thine ? The artist at his work doth sit, — Will he not dream ? It is his dream : He made it, " Surely it is mine," He saith ; " I made that shade, that gleam; 1 ma/de those eyes say love ; I made Those tender lips so ripe to kiss ; I threaded out those lines, the braid Of lashes, and the bosom fair ; Shall I not therefore dream of this ? I could not wake now, if I dare !" I would so dream, I would so sigh, I would sit here thus statue-like, And let the circling hours go by Unheeded, till to you and me The murderer Time should come, and strike Us both into eternity ! LOVE AND AFFECTION. 119 II. I CANNOT speak when I can see thine eyes, rot silently my spirit to thine replies ; But when those stars the odorous darkness veils, When her cool hands upon the weary dales Night lays, close-hooded like a holy nun, And charms away the fever of the sun, — Then when thou sittest nestling by my side My vision and my tongue are no more t^ied ! 120 LOVE AND AFFECTION. III. " OfLiwTwv Shr a)(r]viaii eppa ira.tr "A^poSira." Aeschyhia. We have no balm of mingled siglis, No mutnal glances, Sweet, Across the stream of life onr eyes May very seldom meet ; But in no crystal magic-made In ■which to see thee as thou art Thy form more true could grow and fade Than in the mirror of my heart. In just the mood, in just the pose, I love, I picture thee, For whom a newly-budded rose Is faithful simile ; A sheltered rose at eventide When summer breezes come and go And far along the garden slide The sunset shadows soft and slow; Though shaken by a gentle breath Yet stedfast in the wind. Nestling amid a happy wreath Of kindred buds entwined. LOVI AND AFFECTION. 121 Ah ! when I stretch dumb hands to thee In bitter sadness through the gloom, Doth not my lover's agony Thrill wind-like through thy silent room ? Doth not that dream, so new, so old. At self-same moments make us sigh. So that our spirits meet and hold Communion that none deny ? Our souls are free, and whisper then. As free as wind from earthly band. — So night, dear night, we love thee, when Our souls at least are hand in hand ! The amber moon above ns lies, She pitying reads our silent speech, Interprets and reflects our eyes, Like cleaving prism, each to each. 122 LOVE AND AFFECTION. IV. The thought of meeting thee again Is pleasure that is well-nigh pain ; By thee to stand, to touch thy hand. To read again those loving eyes Is bliss but lovers understand, Nor even they can justly prize. Nay, such a thought existence is. And is not only common bliss ! It is To Be to think that we Can meet again as heretofore, And life has new intensity. With separation faint no more. LOVE AND AFFKCTIOR. 123 V. Oh, we will wander (so I dream) Down through secluded woodland ways, Along the ever-babbling stream, Over the heath in all its blaze Of safEron gorse and heather bloom And fringed branches of the broom ; Or stand on some commanding hill, And drink the distance with our eyes, While through the summer noon-day still The sounds of sheep-bells tinkling rise, Or near at hand in cadence low Some bubble-tossing spring doth flow : Or from the willow loose our boat, Where stream has grown to river size, And down the lazy ripples float. Watching the swallows dip and rise On pools above the waterfall Chasing the gnats impalpable ; Then thrust in some delicious cove, A brooklet's mouth with reeds o'er-run. And bordered with the fairies'-glove. Where leaning trees ward ofE the sun. And eyelets through the tangled boughs Show where the quiet cattle browse : There will we silent sit, until Time seem to have forgotten us. And river with its tribute rill Seem rolling down through Tartarus, And we about to cross the tide To Paradise the other side ! 124 LOVE AND AFFKCTION. VI. The Dance. Swift music times the mazy dance. Soft bosoms flash in brilliant light, Fair eyes from silken lashes glance, In silken tresses pearls are bright. Tonng Herbert wanders in the throng Nor heeds the summons of the band, For Hilda tarries over-long While many gallants claim her hand. His lonely soul inclines his feet, Up the broad stairs he wanders on : " Oh that the hours would be more fleet When hearts are sorrowful and lone ! " He leans upon the balustrade And thence discerns her flying form : The music-snatches swell and fade Like midnight winds before a storm ! He dreams : "I saw her first like this Among the throng, and caught the grace That lives among all gaieties With quiet meaning in her face.'' With such a thought he passes on Through corridors where moonlight falls ; Far off the boisterous clarion Blares in the heated dancing-halls. LOVE AND AFFECTION. 126 Till suddenly lie finds himself Within a little silent room, Where on the marble mantel-shelf One httle lamp reveals the gloom ; Half -awed he stood, like Porphyro In Madeline's chamber, hushed and chaste ; Yet doth no lover's reverence know That half repenteth of love's haste, But that strange thrill the lofty soul So often feels, because in aU Seeing life's parts contain the whole. Spite of truths mathematical ! A little bed in the recess Whereto the chamber from the door Curved backward and a rippling tress Upon the coverlit he saw. A slumbering child ! At her warm face On tip-toe then he stole to peep : Amid the quiet of the place Nought was so quiet as her sleep ! One rosy arm the pillow pressed, The blanchM drapery beneath Half hid the form and half confessed, Stirring with softly-taken breath. Again he dreamed : " 'Twas thus I found, While wandering from the world apart, A peaceful place, where was no sound Save breathings of a child-like heart ; So stood 1 awed at first, until The quiet of that nature passed Into my soul ; then hushed and still Love's calm suffused the troubled vast." 126 LOVE AND AFFECTIOK. Awhile he mused with flickering thought, Then turned ; and at the Btair-head, lo ! Her whom before in vain he sought, Her gallants now all left below. They from the throng escape and find A garden seat : the starry sky Is hushed above ; below, the wind Scarce wafts the ball-room melody. Then doth he tell her all his dream Whenas his spirit led his feet, Till lights the east a pallid gleam Where night and morning part and meet. LOVE AND AFFECTION. 127 VII. Till thee I knew, my radiant Spring ! My heart was like a garden plot Where goodly flowers flourish not But bramhles tear and nettles sting. But Love, thy herald thrush did pipe ; With purity, the lily-cup, And heart's-ease, thereupon grew up The Tree of Life with apples ripe ! 128. LOVl AND AFFICTION. vin. To Hbe. A MTEIAD clever poets ape dear love ; The artful rhyming rings in cadence soft ; Tet not so glad as sparrow in the croft, Nor yet so sad as mavis in the grove, Can any pipe, or lute, or voice be made. Therefore vouchsafe to me this loving thought, — " The poets leave their lordly names on time, Tet, if my love has fashioned my Love's rhyme, It yet shall prove, being of truth enwrought, Liker the unfeigned music of the grove." LOVE AND AFFECTION. 129 THE MUSIC OF NATURE. Sing to me, darling, darling, Songs of the golden bills — White-throat and merle and starling By reedy rills : Take thou the harp that mutters Through Nature's vasty halls, Where music faintly flutters Down unlinked falls. Winds they have swept it, swept it. Voices have come thereout, Wild with sad meanings wept it, And fitful doubt. But love hath listened to it. Chosen a sequence sweet ; Then the judge Pluto drew it Down from his seat ! Taming Charybdis' raging. Gaining the Golden Fleece, Polypheme's woe assuaging. Giving Saul peace ! Sing therefore, darling, darling. Songs of each golden bill. White-throat and merle and starling ; Love gives thee skill. 130 LOVE AND AFFECTION. KISSES. Keep these for me, my love, and wear Them ever in thine heart, They are not seen, so do not fear That they can shame impart ; Though every time. In every clime, Wlien thou shalt think on me, Thy cheek shall blush With rosy flush, But not too consciously ! Keep these for me, my love, and dear Remembrance shall they bring, Better than trinket rich and rare. Or any costly ring : And this thou'lt know, Whenever blow The breaths of this sweet hour, That when again In wind or rain I come to seek thy bower, I'll give thee many more, to make Our joy more perfect be, I pray thee do not only take But also give to me ! For every boy And maiden coy LOVE AND AFFECTION. 131 Who on the earth may live, Though penniless In store possess Grems sweet as these I give ! Keep these for me ; 'tis all that I Can give that's vrorthy thee ; I pray that if again this sky ^ Is granted me to see, ,- - ' ■ This still may be The summary Of all our precious treasure ; Thieved, lost, and sold Are gems and gold. But these give endless pleasure ! Keep these my love ; they are the cure For every ill beneath the sun. And echo back the days of yore Wlien Love's too little course is run ; By hand in hand We understand A sign of friendship boon, But Love enacts Wlio seal his pacts lilust kiss beneath the moon ! Let others tell of promises Drunk in the wine cup deep. The only oath I swear thee is That I will ever keep In secret thought The joy I wrought By the jewels, love I give, — And each caress I gently press Shall give me strength to live. K 2 132 LOVE AND AFFECTION. Thongh. far away from thy dear smile And all thy perfect charms, And doomed to stay a weary while Ne'er resting in thine arms, I will not die. Or how shall I Renew these kisses. Sweet ? And 'tis a spell To conquer hell, — The hope that we shall meet. LOVE ANP AFFECTION. 133 STAR-WORT. Sat, have all those who admire Never written yet a lay ? Do not any now aspire To the trne old-fashioned way, Sounding on the poet's lyre Praises of the eyes that slay ? I will set a bold example. Beauty with a song will greet. Trust to your indulgence ample To forgive me, as is meet For a maid who would not trample Star-wort underneath her feet. " Star-wort" have I called my measure, Neither beautiful nor rare, Worthy not to be a treasure Cherished as your roses are, But in some far hour of leisure Stumbled over unaware, Where 'twas lying drily folded In your novel's fluttered page, Days recalling when you moulded Dreams of lifetime's pilgrimage And an errant rhymester scolded In a most bewitching rage. 134 LOVE AND AFFECTION. THE MEADOWS. Upon a beech .... he carved her name. It grows there with the growing bark And in his heart it grows the same. Coventry Patmore. I. Down throngli the meadows stands a beech A tree of ancient time ; There loves the cnshat-dove to brood Prom morn till even-chime, And there the squirrel loves to teach His young ones how to climb. And nnderneath that beechen shade Love taught me first to frame The whispering accents that are his, The music of a name ; And there at even-tide a maid To mieet her lover came. One sunny careless day I graved Deep in the sturdy tree The name that love had graved so deep In the stedfast heart of me, And cried, " Oh wave, as thou hast waved. Another century." From year to year that trysting tree The graven symbols bore. Still on my heart that name is writ Deep to the central core. They wear their badges faithfully, — The maiden comes no more. LOVE AND AFFECTION. 135 II. When niglit peeps forth, from starry skies And bats come forth to play, When round the circle of the hills Fades out the lingering day, To bygone hours my spirit flies And raptures past away. I wander through the meadows, sweet With evening's incense-dew. And mark upon the shallow pools The heaven's reflected blue Until the path beneath my feet Glories of moonlight strew : But still a western tinge of light Is fading in the sky. Faint as the glimmer of the spring When first the cuckoos cry, That comes before the thorn is white And deepens by and by. Then night peeps forth from starry skies, Pale grows the western sheen, And dim the western woods that had Its sharp horizon been ; My soul is wrapped in memories, As darkness wraps the scene, ]36 LOVE AND AFFECTION. PRANK. If, love, I tell thee that thy love is blank, At me thon lookest with reproachful eyes ; Yet, love, thoa knowest I must needs be Frank Whatever imperfection I surmise. Thon wilt not have me, being Frank, for thine ; From thy refusal falseness I infer ; For everywhere will truth with truth combine. Thy falseness only doth this joy deter. An empty name will Frank become indeed If thou dost not thyself from falseness free ; For I by thee from falseness must be freed, Since I am forced to love it loving thee ! LOVE AND AFFECTION. 137 ABSENCE AND PRESENCE. If, love, I love tliee when I'm by thy side, That proveth not, love, thou shalt be my bride ; Bnt if I love thee when I'm far away. Short is the waiting till our marriage day ! Love must be present when is absence drear, Love may be absent when is presence dear. Tet let not absence be so sad a thought, Love, if unchanging, such a test will court ; So to be proven ; if in absence trae. True then in presence ; one love holds the two. Thou canst not test me ; when we're far apart Still am I beside thee, present in the heart ! Nor yet how dreary know I absence is, Only how joyful presence, when I kiss ! If even absence presence then can be 'Tis double presence when I'm near to thee ; Tet if thou boldest someone else more dear Then art thou absent even when I'm near. Solve then all doubts, love ; let us never part : Be absent, absence ! both from life and heart. 138 LOVE AND AFFECTION. THE POWER OF LOVE. See, when thou lovest, how thou dost love ; Nothing too good must there be for thy Love Below or above ! If she ask treasures out of the soil, Thou must not buy them ; dig for them ! Dig ! Give her your toil. For for thyself there certainly shine No further off than her lucid eyes Grems of the mine ! Then thou must clamber up to the sky If she desire a chalice of dew. Canst thou not fly ? Who wanting pinions stumbles and trips ? Couldst thou not soar to the gates of the sun At the touch of her lips ? ALLBGOEIES. 141 ALLEaOEIBS. EXODUS XXXII. 24. A HUNGET cry and a wolfish pain For the sight of the gems and the feel of the gain For hands thrnst into the wounded side, For touch of the nail-prints (not very wide !), The sight of Jove's fires Though they consume These are the objects of man's desires, Despising the mid-cloud's merciful gloom. For which he has cried and moaned and sighed From the birth of the stars and the birth of the moon. And for which he cries With his baby eyes Till the sun and the earth are split with doom. " Step in, step in," cries the old Magician, " Here's the cauldron hot and the furnace flaring, This is the place to learn compound addition, There's nothing to pay and a general sharing!" See ! out of the casket and out of the basket. Out of the pitcher and out of the pan, Rich and humble, woman and man. Ugly- and crooked as old Caliban, Lovely and fairy as sweet Lilian, 142 ALLEGORIES. Jostling in as fast as they can, Out of the wheelbarrow, carriage or van, Cast their treasures, tinsel and gold, — Diamond, glass, — some good, some old, — Bad and better, — all pushed and rolled. Lugged and tugged, dragged and hugged. Out they come and in they go, No matter if box tumble in or no, It all comes out again spick and span, Always a blessing and never a ban ! How they swelter and welter, helter-skelter In at the door of the cunning old smelter ! Everybody gets something again, For the magical workman takes his tongs And gives it a twist with a turn of his wrist, And out comes lovely what went in plain ! However the multitude hustles and throngs It's never a loss and always a gain. No fashionings int* a moulded shape. Not a single cut or a polishing scrape, — No carving or casting, but warranted lasting ! A dozen old things come out bran new, (No wonder it makes you stare and gape) And all melted down into one, — quite true ! Isn't it nice and isn't it clever ? — Different, fresh, and better than ever ! Come put in yonr poor old love-charms, do, And get something nice from the wonderful stew ! II. Nay, nay ; let us away ! And put no hopes and trusts in there ; 'Tis a curse in the sequel for which yon pay ; What goes in a loathing Comes out in new clothing, — ALLEGORIES. 143 That's all very true and I've nothing to say, But lo ! 'tis an idol before you're aware ! Come look at that woman with jewelry there, — Bracelet and necklace and diamond ring, This one a little chipped. That one a little ripped. Jumbled and tumbled goes everything ! Why, a little more trouble, a little more care, "Would make of them treasures unrivalled and rare, Yet in they all go with a passionate fling ! The -washing with tears and the drying with hair And the cup of cold water are not very grand. And yet they are crowns that the blessed shall wear ; But the bauble that is so easy to hand Is a horrible gin and a deadly snare To capture the spirit that did not trust ; 'Tis formed in the furnace, but we put it in ; 'Tis a horrible snare and a deadly gin. The bitter cleansing we cannot bear While the great Jeweller scrapes off the rust, — The rust, the dust, the must, and the crust. And files away the obstinate metal Wherever 'tis cankered within by the tarnish ; We like the paint, the gilt, and the varnish. That over the dirt and filth doth settle In the Old Magician's wonderfal kettle ! Nay, nay, let us not stay. Though our trinkets are soiled in the mire and clay In our wearisome travelling day by day ; But come! to the Jeweller take them away. III. My soul, my soul, how he grinds and scours These love-charms of ours ! Spite of complaining and foolish fears Every ornament, every jewel. 144 ALLEGORIES. Seven times he passes over the fuel, And in his bottle he puts our tears, A tincture precious to make them shine. When mingled with Blood, sad soul of mine ! Lovingly scourging, tenderly cruel ! But still at times the gold we thought the fairest and the best To ashes shrivels suddenly beneath his searching test ; But ah ! my soul, that's better too than keeping on our shelf An idol, though it seemed perchance to procreate itself ; Ours must be the burden and ours must be the sin ; No matter what the furnace formed, 'twas we who put it in ; Less worth it has unnumbered times, although it looks so grand. Than the veriest speck of metal from the great Refiner's hand. ALLEGORIES. 145 '■ I SAY UNTO ALL, WATCH ! " I SAW upon a midniglit in a trance A spacious palace-portal, whence there came The sound of lutes in rhythm of the dance And breadths of light from golden lamps a-flame. Then came there forth three children ; on their brows Were festal garlands and around their lips Stains of the curdled grape, that can arouse The passions cardinal in him who sips. They had come forth to look upon the vale, That lay beneath, wrapped in the robes of night ; And yet the evening star methought was pale, Wounded by some far morning shaft of light. But suddenly the jocund dance within Sounded confused ; the music seemed to jar, — Shuddered and deadened, — not as if a din Had mastered it, — but smitten, like the star. For there was other music : first a voice ; The children answered that, no longer gay ; And then a chaunt of great in-gathered noise. As ff a thousand organs far away. Thus was revolved the triple antiphone. Till sudden sunrise all the valley lit ; And lo ! I was awake, and night had gone. The words that I remembered here are writ : — 146 ALLEGORIES. Gal. V. 19—21. 2 Pet i. 19. Mark xiv. 37. MicahiT. S.mar. Prov. vi. 9. Mark3dv.3a— 11. Gen. xxxT. Psalm 11. 7. Mark xv. 23. > Mat. xxvii. 48. j Psalm iii. 7. Psalm liv. 4. Psalm zxziii. 22. 1 Kings viii. 30. Lukexix.lO, Rev. iii. 20. Mat. XXY.6. Mat. XXV. 3 — 4, Rev. xxi. 9. Is. xL 8. Rev. xxi. 23. Is. li. 3. Psalm xl, 17. Voice. Leave tlie revelry and feast ! Day is dawning in the East ! Can ye not a single hour Keep your watch by Edar's tower ? "Will ye always sluggards be Sleeping in Gethsemane ? Childebn. AU our dress is dappled with the wine In the palace of the Philistine. Wash us ! Drive our drowsiness afar ! Thou who scornedst myrrh and vinegar. Chaitnt. Essurgat Dens, Adjutor mens, In te speravimus, Ad te claniaviams. Voice. At the door the Seeker stands, Knocking with his bleeding hands ; But the Bridegroom draweth near ; Trim your lamps and make them clear. Child EEF. Lo, a voice cries, " Come up hither ! Flames may flicker, wreaths may wither, But there is a Light eternal And an Eden ever vernal." Chahnt. Domine, ne moreris Ut justificeris ALLEGORIES. 147 Vespere narrabimus Et anuntiabimus Mane et meride, Dominornm Domine ! Ps. Iv. 17. Voice. Leave the revellers within Lost in corridors of sin ; When all worldly lights go out And the Sons of Glory shont, Dazed in darkling ways, too late They will seek the palace-gate. Ps. CXXT. 5. Jool ii. 10. Job xxxviii. 7. Job xii. 25. Children. There are mansions, where beyond Night and darkness, cloud and mist, Shine the pearl and diamond, Agate, amber, amethyst, Topaz, beryl, chrysolyte, Jasper, jacinth, crystal white. Sardonyx and sardius, Sapphire and chrysoprasus, And the golden facets gem, Till the whole house laughs for them. Chaunt. Domine inclina caelos Dum cantamus dulce melos ! Tauge montes Fumigabunt ! Vitae fontes Apud te sunt ! In tuo lumine lumen videbimus Pjt nunqaam rursus a te dicedimus. L -2 John xiv. 2. Rev. xri. 4 & 25. Bev. xxi, 11 iind ia-:ii. Pb. cxUt. rs xxxvi. 9. Ps. Ikki. is. 148 ALLTSGORIES. Mark xiii. 35. Eev. XX. 12—13. 1 Cor. XV. 62. Josh. vi. 20. Rev. xxi. 2. Mat. it 6. Pe. xlv. 13—15. Is. xU. 10. Is. Ui. 7. Iiuko i. 78. Heb. ix. 13—14. Rev. xxii. 20. Ps. xliv. 23—26. . xlv. 4. Ps. cxlv. 15. Ps. xxii. 27. Ps. cxliv. 5. Voice. At the cockcrow, at the dawn, Souls may gather, graves may yawn, When the sudden trump shall blow. Shattering earthly Jericho, And the new Jerusalem To the King of Bethlehem Shall be brought with joy and pride Decked in garments of a bride. Children. Beautiful the feet of they Who upon the mountains bring Tidings good to those who pray That the eternal mom may spring. Master, thou hast made us pure, Come to make the blessing sure ! Chaunt. Exsurge ! Quare obdormis Domine ? O propter nomen tuum nos redime ! Super tuum femur Gladio accingere ! Audi quum loqnemur O potentissime ! Ad Deum oculi Nunc omnis popnli ; Fines terras reminiscentnr Ad Dominum et convertentnr. Domine, inclina ceelos Dum caiitamus dulcc mclos ! ALLEGORIES. 149 LOVE, THE PROMPTER. Peide to me whispers : " Let me take thy pen ; " Love standeth by, biting his finger-nail, And looks so fair I scarce refuse him when He prayetb, " Let me try ; I cannot fail." Yet do T give the preference to Pride, Till Love leaps up, and makes before my eyes A shadow that is ready at my side To scratch me down my dreams of paradise. I shut myself within myself and mutter ; Yet all I think the shadow understands, And writeth everything my soul may utter ; Yet is it hidden Love who guides his hands. 150 ALLEGORIES. TO LOVE. Love, who hast played me truant many a day, Y'oTing Love, I have thee now ! And thou shalt pay The smartest penalty we can devise — Love, I will give, nay, force thee take, two eyes ! Seeing with these, what thou dost see, must say. I take from thee thine arrows and thy bow. Now shalt thou be my friendly slave, not foe — I'll nip thy sting, and then thou only durst Come as thou didst to Dido, when she nursed Thy potent shape — mild baby, soft and slow. So shalt thou tell me all that thou hast seen In that fair city whither thou hast been. And I, judge-like, comparing each with each, And drawing calm conclusions from thy speech Will read the balance as the fates may lean. Then if the cause of praise outweigh all censure, No blot appearing for a true-love quencher, I'll give thee back thy bow and take thine eyes ; That I that lovely city may surprise. And thou may'st help me in my desperate venture. But oh ! unparalleled in battle-field ! If, being blind, thou shouldst beat down my shield And wound me to my very heart, 'twere slight ! Nay, rather would it strengthen me to fight Till that fair foe our bond of contract sealed ! Thy natural blindness so would be the best When we go forth to strive for sweets unguessed Since hitting foe thou puttest foe to pain. And hitting friend thou harmest foe again, Till that foe to my bosom come to rest ! ALLKGOEIES. ■ 151 FAITH AND LOVE. When Faith and Love walked on the road to heaven That scaled a mountain from the easier plain, Faith outstripped Love, and when he had sore striven Over the hill-side roughs the top did gain ; And, looking thence. Love's progress thought to see Where he had left him on the lower ground, But not discerning his fair figure, he Looked upward where his own fair self was bound. But lo ! the backward had arrived before, And smiled upon him, crowned with haloes bright ; So Faith contented well with what he saw. Made him a heaven upon the mountain height. 152 ALLEGORIES. THE COMMONEST LOT. The beam that drifts about the sea, Nosed by the dog-fish, slimed by sea-snails, draws Into itself at last, through seams and flaws, The water imperceptibly. Quick currents sift it through and through With jelly creatures feeding on its sides. The sea-flower all about it waves and slides With languid motion to and fro. The wave within weighs more and more Downward : its own weights overbalance it ; It sinks till over it the flat-fish fiit And sand-worms burrow to its core. ALLEGORIES. 153 FAREWELL. LoTB wandering through a palace-hall, An open place, where in the midst A fountain splashing cool did fall, Whose feet the pure white marble kissed, Unslung his harp, and striking soft The mellow strings, whose sounds did tell That a new spirit from aloft Had in that palace come to dwell, Brought forth rare music, but so sad That all the nightingales around Ceased their own song, and envy had That ought but they so sad could sound. Drawn by the strain a passing poet Entreated Love its name to teU, Unworthy though he were to know it : Then whispered Love, " It is ' Farewell.' " And day by day Love came and sang Witbin that hall, and day by day With merrier songs the marble rang To harp-strings growing ever gay. But the last of all the songs Love sang Was the same as the first, " Farewell : " He brake all the strings with a mighty twang ; The birds ceased and the fountain fell ! SONGS. 157 SONGS. MORNING. The pride of the morning has gone and passed, The pride of the morning, too fair to last, Has vanished and passed like a golden beam That glitters a moment upon life's stream. Oh ! false is the morning and false is the heam, But true is the likeness of life and stream, For life's lasting pleasures are only they That mingle and flow with it, gray with gray ! 158 SONGS. SERENADES. I. The owl from the tower doth fly ; 'tis late, And he hastens away to find his mate ; The breeze plays on the river, my love. The stars in the heavens qniver, my love. But thou comest not yet. Dost thon forget ? From the crimson clover the moth doth start. With her soft-winged lover far, far, to dart ! Hark the nightingale tells, my love, ' He never in snch bliss dwells, my love ; But thou cnmest not yet. Dost thou forget ? But weareth the river a guileful face. And the stars, like gems, have a heartless grace ; With the bird's sad lilt my heart, dear love. Only can take any part, dear love ; For thou lingerest yet And dost forget ! Ah ! prithee no sorrow let memory bring ; Let nightingales only snch anguish sing ! For in the heavens I miss, dear love. The ruling star of my bliss, dear love ; And Love tarrieth not When he's forgot ! SONGS. 159 II. The fire-flies of the sky are dead ; The thunder rolls sonorous overhead Deep bass to match the treble of my string ; Lash roses in the sultry stillness swoon, The stream runs dark, untouched by silver moon : Ah ! listen, lady, listen while I sing. Oh let thy lamp one moment wink ! Open thy lattice, love, one golden chink ! — Lo ! down the dark the rosy shaft doth spring, And on the beam the spirit of my bride Seems sweetly, like the Holy Grail, to glide To me, her suppliant knight, the while I sing. Too soon the vision fades again ; Sullenly splash, like blood, the drops of rain ! Drear, drear the night ! To-morrow joy may bring. If I may see the light that never dies — The light of love that sparkles in thine eyes ! Farewell till then, farewell to thee I sing ! Farewell I sing ! Farewell ! .160 SONGS. THE INEVITABLE. LoTE comes to all ! When will he come to me ? Love be kind ! Let her be fair and let her be tall ; Let her langh merrily — Love be kind ! Love comes to all ! Let her be fair or not, Never mind ; Love knows a beauty none can forestall ; I needs must love my lot — Never mind ! Love comes to all ! Let her be high or low — Love is blind ! Tet now I picture whom I could call " Dearest " and " Love," and so Love be kind ! SONGS. 161 MAY-DAT. Awake ! awake ! The spring is waking ; Grloomy thonghts, away, away ! Sunlit dew from woods down-sLaking Tips the green on every spray, Like the downy cheek Of a maiden meek. Blushing under happy tear-drops at her lover's play. Pride and wealth, and money-making. Oh ! forget them for one day ! Heath and field and wood are waking With a splendour more than they ; Maids are maying, Boys are straying, Calling in the happy fields through one long holiday. 162 SONGS. PAST AND PRESENT. When shall we meet again, love ? What will the years have done ? What amid joy and pain, love, Shall we have lost or won ? What in the world of greedy men Shall we have learned and nnlearnt then ? What shall we love to remember, amid our daily fret — Aye, what shall we love to remember, bnt what shall we like to forget ? When shall we meet again, love ? When the spring breezes blow. Or in the antnmn rain, love, Or in the winter snow ? On land or water shall we meet, Or face to face in the common street ? How wilt thou welcome me then, love ? Acquaintance, or friend, or how ? . And shall we acknowledge the bygone, or only the present allow ? — How would'st thon welcome me now, love, if I should meet thee now ? SONGS. 163 MADGE'S SONGS. Scene : The Jdtohen of an English farmhouse in winter. John. Let's have a song, Madge : you don't sing so much As when our Willy fretted so o' nights. Madge. It soothed him, then, poor dear ; the doctor said 'Twas better than his medicine, — anyhow 'Twas cheaper. Ay, but now he's such a man ! {To Willy, m her arms) Yes, laugh and chuckle, laugh and chuckle, Sweet. {Sings) Father is over the sea, dear, Father is over the sea, Where the lobster teUs the cockle-shells That the ocean is wild and free, dear. Deep and wild and free ! Father is over the sea, dear, Father is over the sea, Where the lily-white belles buy cockle-shells In the land where all is free, dear, Bad and wild and free ! John. That's a queer song ; half baby song, half not : That text's a mystery, as parson says. Madge. Well, here 's another ; you like this, I know. First little baby has the song, then big ! {Sings). Woods are grown red, and the rose is dead, and the swallow fled ; 'Tis the bitter time of the year ! Ah ! Sear leaves are spread, and the acorns shed, and the summer has sped ! M 2 1(54 SONGS. Winter is here ! Ah ! Now black-birds flock, and the forests rock, For the winter is here. Frosty the wold, and the robin bold, and the brooklet cold, In the blast of the north- wind drear ! Ah ! Soon summer goes, when the north- wind blows, with his breast full of snows ! Winter is here ! Ah ! Spite of the storm, if the heart be warm. Still the snmmer is here ! John. Now sing that one you said your mother made Before she married, while the course was rough ; It suits your voice, being so soft and low. (Madge sings.) I used to hear a footstep on the gravel walk below. In the summer hay-time, long, long ago. And nothing stayed the footsteps in the sultry summer nifjht. But they came not, oh they came not, when the stars were shining bright Upon the tell-tale cover of the snow. The clematis and roses round- my window-sUl did blow Half inside the lattice, long, long ago. But there more fitly might have grown the rue and rose- mary ; But I knew not, ah I knew not, all the misery to be. That fell as cold and sudden as the snow. The winter time came on, my love ; you swore that none could know, Down beside the window, long, long ago ; The flakes fell down so quickly, and so happily you swore, That I could not but believe it, yet I never saw you more : A coward tell-tale was the shameless snow. John. Well done ! That's life, in pretty measure set ; Like baby in his broidered basinette. Madge. You flatter, John ! And now 'tis time for tea. SONGS WITHOUT RHYMES. 167 SONGS WITHOUT RHYMES. MATINS. Wake to the mom, love, and the scarlet snn ! Wake ! For the red-cap pipes among the heath And the pink daisy opens on the lawn. All down between the mnrmnring hives the bee Is sucking honey-dew ; the clover bell Nods to the dance of many silver wings. Fresh are the meadows where the river gluts The tender bloom of yellow hly-cups, That to and fro sway lazily and slow. The ouzel sits upon forget-me-nots And whistles to the linnet in the sedge. Wake to the morn, love, and the merry world ! When, love, I left thee last night all was still, The birds were silent and the woods were still, Only the moon watched in the noiseless sky. Now all is waking with the waking morn ; Oh wake thou, too, and come again to me ; So will we wander through the harvest-fields : Wander together through the harvest-fields, Where the red poppy hangs his drowsy head And white corn-daisies glisten in the rye. 168 SONGS WITHOUT EHTMES. Wander together to the topmost hill, Where we can see the deep bine sea afar, That lies beneath the deep blue sky above. Wake, love ; thy cheek hath rested long enongh, Its warm, warm blossom on the happy conch ; All roses now are tnmed to greet the snn ! Too long those jealous lids have sealed thine eyes ; All violets now are opening to the day ! Wake, love, to greet the sunshine and the mom ! SOJfGS WITHOUT RHTMES. 169 MA.RY. Thotj art -very patient, Mary, in thy love ; A mild contentment mellows in thine eye, Calm rests upon thy forehead and thy lips ; But I am weary waiting for the time. I would roll on the sun and skip the years And dwindle all the sluggish days to hours, — To minutes, — ay, to seconds, — in my fire ! It is so weary waiting for the time. Oh ! I would slumber deep, and dream and dream. Dreams opening on like endless corridors. Dreams where with me thou shouldest wander, love, Me no more weary waiting for the time ; Wander among sweet meadows, orchard fields, Grardens with fountains and great forest-shades. Through long long summer days and summer eves, Nevermore weary waiting for the time. Till I should wake to find thee by my side With bridal- wreaths about thy shapely brow, And read in those calm eyes, that madden me (Being though sweet, so calm), " The time is come !" Deep in those eyes I look ; like rifts of blue Between white clouds they are, and I like one Who seems to see beyond the bine to space,-- Beyond all weary waiting and aU time ! LYRICS. 173 LYRICS. LONELY. Evert flower that bloweth Has her lover bee, Every stream that floweth Has its willow-tree, Star aud star in heaven unite, Shining with a wedded light. There's no leaf but knoweth How the dew-drops cling, Not a tree but boweth When the breezes sing, Not a sound breathed into air But an echo meets it there. Every spring the mavis findeth Softest mate with whom to dwell — And the sunny morning bindeth Wreaths of Ijght around their dell, — Does no gallant ever sigh For a love-glance of thine eye ? And when all things are combining Each by each to be complete, As the honejj-suckle, twining Roand the rose is doubly sweet. Do thy lily ears alone Lack a lover's tender tone ? 174 LYEICS. TIME. Love, are tby tresses as glossy A-S in the days gone by, r /r" When through the forest-paths mossy "We walked together, sweet — you and I ? Oh I wish they so may be ! To thy shoulders once did fall Golden locks ambrosial All for me and all for me ! Love, is each lip like a cherry Far out of reach, hanging high, As when love sentences merry We passed between us, sweet — ^you and I ? Oh I wish they so may be ! Once they lay in curved line, Ruby like to nectar wine. All for me and all for me ! Love, are thy cheeks sensitive ? Would the colour mount and fly If I peeped ? We used to live On melting blushes, sweet — you and I ? Oh I wish they so may be ! Once they rose up, rounded soft, Made for kisses, kisses oft, All from me and all from me ! LYEICS. 175 Love, are thine eyebrows ebony As when we said goodbye, Drinking in longing like honey, With sadness at heart, sweet — you and I ? Oh I wish they so may be ! Once like jetty bows they were, Shooting arrows (oh so rare ! ) All to me and all to me. Love, are thy hazel eyes gay As when we saw smooth lie The stream spreading far away, Musing together, sweet — ^you and I ? Scarce I wish they so may be ! I think I should like to know They were dim with tear-drops flow All for me and all for me : Just a little dim for me, sweet, Just a little dim for me ! 1 76 LTKICS. THE OLD SONG. Skip ! Skip! Skip ! Blue sash and petticoat ! Dance to the old piano's tremblings ! Over the drowsy lawn the air doth float Down to the sweet-leaved lime trees, — every note Leaps to thy truthful eyes that smile with no dissemblings. Skip ! yes skip ! out to the basking lawn, And summer snow-storms from the myrtle Shake in sheer sport, O wanton little Faun ! When all the blossoms shower, thou art forlorn ; Come, make them grow again, imp of the azure kirtle ! Cannot ? Ah, never mind ! The little feet Still shuffle to obey the measure ! Ay, skip ! — the old refrain is very sweet ; It ever comes to make the song complete ; Whenever it breathes forth you dance again for pleasure. Take care, take care ! Ah ! — ^tripped and tumbled down, Down among all the scattered blossom — Tumbled, and streaked white pinafore with brown ! Up again laughing ? So ! not even a frown ? Tes, yes, 'tis sweet to laugh at falls, on mother's bosom. LTKICS. 177 SYMPATHY. I OFTEN think wert thou to die There'd be a subtle sympathy Between thy soul and mine, And through the air would come to me A pang of sadness suddenly When thou shalt be divine. As when on some high pasture hill A shepherd feels the sudden chill Of evening come to him, When through the golden gates of sky The suq's last tints of purple fly And all the land grows dim : So when thine hours of life are done A shudder through my soul will run. An icy wind will blow Upon me, standing on the height Where Love has borne me by his might To scan the world below ! Through prayers and longings for thy heart In all thy fate I have a part. And surely on that day When thou dost fade, a sudden sigh Shall startle me, — in death more nigh. In life so far away ! How often when in mood to sing Thou touchest on thy harp a string Another there vibrates, — So when death snaps thy life-time's thread Shall I too know that thou art dead And free from loves and hates ! 178 LTEICS. CHILDREN. Children's laugh involuntary, — Happy sound that cannot tarry, But to join, in regions starry, Cherubs' chorus hastes to pass, — Rings across the meadows grass. How they laugh along the valley. Through the bushy dell and alley, (Like the rills that musically Over pebbles ripple down) As they plait their rag-wort crown. Bunches of the ruby clover Baby's chubby fingers cover ; Now is she a queen all over ;' On her head the crown is cast, And she holds her sceptre fast ! Surely from celestial bowers, Dropped upon this earth of ours. Crowned with asphodel, whose flowers Twinkle, each a star a-fiame. Baby just this minute came ! Children's laugh involuntary ! Ear from earth it seems to carry Listeners' hearts, however weary, Like a bell in a balloon Sailing to the melting moon. SONaS OF THE EIVBR. N 2 181 SONGS OF THE RIVER. RIVER AND BROOK. Oh the smiling river, The babbling bubbling river, It is the song for me ! It comes from the Great Giver, It goes tinto the sea ; For ever and for ever It lips and laps its shores And plunges like a war-horse When he hears the sound of wars. Oh the laughing river, The gulping gushing river. It has its whims and moods. It comes from the Grreat Giver, It joins the ocean floods, It heaves in winding freshets And chatters on its way, Or lies in sullen calmneps In a foamy-speckled bay. Oh the rippling river, The gnrg'ling glittering river, A law of endless motion, It comes from the Great Giver, It falls into the ocean, 182 SONOS OP THE EIVBB. Through meadow-land and gnlly It breaks on slippery boulders Like a white robe smoothly dropping Across a giant's shoulders. Oh the shining river, The glimmering shimmering river, It never knows a sleep. It comes from the Great Giver, It goes unto the deep. Through many a glen it streameth Away from city strife. And all the fishes in it Are spirits of a life. Spirits of the river. The pulsing throbbing river, A heart that's ever free. It comes from the Great Giver, ■ It runs into the sea : For ever, ever onwards We and the river go Toward the mighty ocean Beneath the sunset glow. II. Oh the merry little brook And the dancing little brook ! Twinkling tinkling all the day It will peep and slily look From each cool and ferny nook As it trickles on its way. SONGS OF THE RIVER. 183 But the fairy little stream And the splashing little stream Through, a thousand nooks may quiver, — Under moons or sunny beams, Pearly ripples, golden gleams, — Still it goeth to the river. III. Comes the weaker to the stronger, Comes the gentle to the rough, Though the way seem ever longer And the barriers be rough. Comes the brooklet to the river, Comest thou, love, unto me. And we go to the Great Giver As they go into the sea. Brighter nature, softer motion, Purifying swift and deep. Till they flow into the ocean, Where all rills and rivers sleep. 184 SONGS OF THE ETVBE. MORNING. Shine, happy Sun, be radiant all the day, Let not one cloud across thy disc of fire To-day be blown, but drive them all away With kingly ire ! Look down, look down, for here upon the earth Are hearts that are not only chilly clay. But have been touched by love and so are worth Thy generous ray. And when thou seest what I fain would see, Shine, happy Sun, warm on each river cove. Make deep and shallow sparkle for the glee Of human love ! SONGS or THE RXTKR. 185 DAT. O WATEK-LIM white, I little thouglit When late I saw thee near the reedy strand Then woald'st so soon from silver sleep be caught Placked from thy fellows by a little hand. A fitting hand to plnck thee so, methinks, — A lily hand ! The voice sang " Clear and cool," The eyes gazed long into the limpid chinks. The fingers dipped into the quiet pool. If dreamy ripples lulled thee into sleep And lazy fish that brushed against thy stem, Yet when those fingers sparkled in thy deep Surely thou wert aroused at touch of them / 186 SONGS OP THE EITBR.. EVENING. Watch here with me the sun go dt>wn With scarlet bar and- saffron' belt And many a prism-eolotir thrown In exquisite diegrees to melt On sombre vapours overhesid, As in this river cove we sit, Wbile twilight' comes with stealthy tread And:Hesp.erus' pleasant torch is lit. The wheeling beetle's tiny boom Upon the evening air is loud And Cynthifi at her ivory loom Is weaving out the pearly- cloud. SONGS OP THE RIVER. 187 NIGHT. A SOUND of the sea is in my ears, Of the sea that knows no rest ; His mnttering boughs the willow rears, For a wind is in the West. A wind was born in the western sky When the day was wed to night, For bridals and birth the torch flaxed high In the day -god's halls of light. I stand on the river shore alone To gaze on the lordly scene, The dying light and the rising moon And the sable girth between. SEA SONGS. 191 SEA SONGS. THE SAMPHIRE-GATHERER. Peeludb. The Bea is jealous and guards his own, His cliffs are his castle-keeps, Embattled with towers of hoary stone Where the warder wind never sleeps. His rocks are graven by storm and time With words of a language rare, But they can read who alone will climb With the spirits of sea and air. If they list to the whispers of wind and wave And mark what that cipher saith. The writing will tell and the spirits will rave Of the meaning of Life and Death. 192 SEA SONGS. THE SAMPHIEE-GATHBREE. The samphire-gatherer hangs in the air On the white cliff ledges craggy and bare ; Though buffeting winds about him blow, And rocks lie dizzily far below, His foot is firm and his brain is clear, His basket he fills and feels no fear. The sea-birds wheeling around him screech As they bear the weed from the barren beach To weave in nests for their young sea-crows In the eyry nooks where the samphire grows. The fisher hears not their mournful cry Spreading his nets in the sun to dry. For the shingle shrieks as the billows break, As if drawn along by a giant's rake. But the sea-martens' whistle loud and sharp The gatherer hears as he climbs the scarp : Over, behind, and round him they are ; The swish of the sea is faint and far ; His -eye is sure and his arm is strong, ' His basket he fills and sings his song. II. He could not stay when the summer came. The gatherer, though he grew old and lame, He could not stay in the workhouse home Where they housed him when the snow-flakes lay On the ocean cliffs like drifted foam ; He needs must work in the summer dav. When shades of cloud swept over the bay, SEA SONGS. 193 With whispering wind and complaining tide ; Though old and lame, yet his heart had pride ; He longed to be free and to win his bread, With rooks beneath and the gulls o'erhead, Hanging aloft on the white clifE-side. He could not stay, for his spirit cried For windy crag and resounding sea, — Longed to be working, longed to be free ! His basket he slings, and trolls his song. Though now no more is he quick and strong. III. The sunset billows the shingle draw, The wind is climbing the cliffs alone ; By wave and cliflE, on the safer shore, The gatherer lieth as stili as stone ; His debt is paid to the jealous sea. The clifEs that he loved have made him free, Pity shall trouble his soul no more, He lies at last on the safer shore, And never a wish for work hath he ! Unvexed he lies by the wisps of weed, For the dauntless spirit is truly freed. His face has a peace, though cold and stiff. And scored and worn like the samphire cliff ; Calmly he lies, and the old sea sound Moaneth as ever the shores around ; He grasps some sti-ands of the samphire still. Fit sign of the old unwavering will. And almost he seems to move his hand, As the shadows of cloud sweep over the sand. 194 SEA SONGS. " PEACE ! " Ah, be thou still ! It is not yet thy time ; Stand by the sea and drink his beauty in ; Thou canst not paint that beauty by thy rhyme, Then rather subtle essence from it win To pass into thy life and make it fair, Even as thou canst breathe its healthful air. Stand thou in some deep hollow of the downs Alone, and gaze thou seaward ; surely there Thy soul will cease to cry aloud with frowns And fretful longings, as in sudden fear Of some mysterious Presence ; Beauty then Shall teach thee truths thou canst not learn of men. Such beauty was it " passed into her face " Of whom the poet tells ; not pressed by thought Into fair shapes, but with that painless grace That feedeth high-born souls, like colours caught From clouds by ocean- waves, that have no form. But yet are lovely, teuder-hued, and warm. SEA SONGS. 195 THE FISHERLAD OF SCOTLAND. Ho ! am I not a fisherlad, So bonny, blithe, and free. And mend my net npon the shore And hanl it out at sea. And eat my porridge with light heart, Then with the briny blast Sail ere from old Ben Bhraggie's top The silver mists have passed ! The lazy sea- weed shifts along The rocky shallow shore. Here never comes more bitter sound Than wind and wave at war ; No hideous laugh, no cursing word. Here ever passes by. Only the curlews whistle low, The piping plovers cry. And loving lips are not more red, "Nor loving eyes more blue, Nor even in our nearest ones Are loving hearts more true. Than sunrise far upon the hills Which bound the inland sea, ' Than azure wave, or gallant boat. So bonny, blithe, and free ! 2 196 SEi SONQS. All out towards the freshening West The open ocean lies, To East on either side the sea The heathery hilk arise, In front at eve the woody point Runs seaward dim and far. Over the stern my cottage light Shines like a tender star. There lies the village by the bnrn, Wherein wee naked feet Paddle along the rocky stream Stained amber by the peat, The fir-woods run along the hills And round the castle grow. And from the craggy summits peep The red stag and the doe. And there 's a comely, buxom lass, I'd like to make my bride, And when I sit down by the hearth See her the other side ; We have no thought of wealth or kin, Small talk of "what is best," For when we love we take our love And leave to God the rest. Just knowing this, that she seems fair In spirit and in form. We trust the love that lies beneath The breast so soft and warm : Do we not trust the wealth that lies Beneath the happy sea. And find our life upon its wave So bonny, blithe, and free ? THE SEASONS. 109 THE SEASONS. SPRING. I. Haste, taste thee, Spring, our chilly hearts to cheer ! Is this the way thoa le?i,dest in the year ? With Boreas blowing out his leathern, cheek, With nights so starless and with mornings bleak ? Is this the way to cherish early roses Or banks whereon the violet reposes ? Can this be Spring, who as false poets tell, Comes radiant dancing over field and dell ? Who sprinkles all the meadows with fair flowers, And with her brings the ever lengthening hours. Givers of plenty, while above her hovers Cupid with arrows ready strung for lovers. Who wander out beneath the placid moon That leadeth up the merry month of June ? O truant Spring, to what fair land dost thou Thy opening buds and gentle warmth allow ? Thou cruel one, that frowning earth has left Of all thy life-renewing power bereft ! Bring us again, oh bring us once again The sweets that wont to follow in thy train,— The mornings fresh, the lazy noon-tide's heat, The languid evenings on the garden seat. What time the China roses and the musk Mingle their perfumes in the dewy dusk ; 200 THE SBASOTfS. t. Give ns again the hours when we can be Beneath the beech-tree's whispering canopy. Or sleepily npon the eddying stream Ply the broad oar when stars begin to gleam. Or take our way in early morning throngh Lnsh meadows, where the hyacinth is blue. While still the eye can bear to look upon The herald lights of the approaching sun. The many beauties that I find in thee I'll store for drearier seasons secretly. So that when winter comes, as he must come, I, sitting dreaming by the fire at home, May find in my own memory a summer ; — The wind without shajl be the gentle hummer Who dips his head in many a nodding flower. The sinking embers be a pleasant bower Of tangled trees ; — ^whatever else is wanting Divine imagination, gently panting With fuller inspiration, will create. With endless sweets for me insatiate ; So will I evermore thy praises sing Ke-breaking from those gloomy clouds, sweet Spring. II. The Spring is sweet and oh the Spring is sweet ! By river-meadows, spread for playful feet Of new-bom lambkins, sound the pulsing oars, Slow-splashing cooUy ; on May-petals pause Gray butterflies and sip the honied cup. Like winged blossoms that on blossoms sup ; While from the sun, that ancient god, again Returning with his balm for winter's pain THE SEASONS. 201 And new throbs of existence, over all Expectant nature golden vapours fall, Like those that showered through the brazen wall When Danaij cried " Save ! " and Lo7e was there at call. III. On Nature's essence has been poured to-day From Phoebus' vial such a magic drop As all her hue shall change from wintry gray To tints that deck the motley train of May From gummy bud to Autumn's rosy crop. Birds mating in the quickset and the stir Of hordes of tranced insects, roused anew By vital breath of spring, — the boastful fir Not long to be the woodland emperor, — The mild south gale and arc of lucid blue ! The sun is sweet, — a voice is murmuring " sweet '' Over the woodland and the grassy plain, — Birds sing for joy of it and lambkins bleat, Ajid to the south fly herald breezes fleet Whispering the exiled cuckoo, " Oome again !" IV. Oh what a day to plump the hawthorn bud, To make the lambkins skip, to push the juice Up through the chestnut boughs like lusty blood, To urge the fields their herbage to produce, To give the cuckoo's mate, the lark, and linnet, Strength to defy the world to a song-fight and win it ! 202 THE SEASONS. Oh come into the meadows, come away, The fields are free, the happy fields are free. The ouzel with his mate may well be gay. But not so gay, aye, not so gay as we ! For by the sunny river we will wander, As rich men lavish wealth our idle hours to squander ! There we shall hear the fat old barbel wallowing Like pigs in mud, and see the sunbeams dancing On the reeds' back, and where the stream is hollowing A steep-banked bay dream that there is a prancing Of Naiad-bearing Dolphins, — 'tis so still, The coiling river's flow above the merry mill. The air is full of summer promises, — Delicious sun and more delicious shade. Lilies and violets and dark heart's-ease And sleepy vistas down a mossy glade. Sweet languid nights and mornings freshly cold, Pleasures that day by day like pleasant flowers unfold. THE SEASONS. 203 SUMMER. Not often midmost Summer stirs the lay ; Of Autumn hoar and baby-featured Spring Do poets chiefly sing, Leaving the summer day Its own sweet minstrels of the feathered wing. Yet why should not the poet take his lyre To answer Nature in her jubilee With merry harmony, Before the autumn fire Smoulders along the woods from tree to tree. O foolish lover, who hast sung so oft Thy lady's charms while yet in thy high wooing, Why is it the undoing Of songs that were so soft That thou hast gained the prize thou wert ensuing ? So poets sing the bud or rotting fruit, But miss the blossom and the ripening time. Expect, regret the prime. But never tune their lute Eor Summer's self, beneath the shady lime. Hail, splendid Summer ! How thy hazy hills Wink in the distance ! Thy maturest grace Makes perfect every place, Ab womanhood fulfils The maiden's beauty, — heart and form and face. Ah, Summer, surely thou art much more fair Than wrinkled Autumn or than chubby Spring ! To thee, to thee I sing ! Free river, sunny air, And gladsome earth in concord answering ! 204 THE SEASONS. AUTUMN. Sad my soul is every year, When tlie leaves are growing sere, And the wood-dove cooeth clear, When old winter draweth near, And the clambering eglatere Sheds her leaves for very fear : Then the holly-bush. Hidden by the fresher blush Of the summer, is the king, And the fir-trees seem to sing When the winds their branches fling For the hoar-frosts to them bring But a fairer flush. Tell me why it is that I Feel not all this second spring. But think more to sit and cry : — " Ah, the cold snow's searing sting " Soon will show itself, " And the fairy elf " Leave the woodland shivering, " While the forest songster queen " Will be mute and no more seen " Swallows in their silver sheen " Flying earth and heaven between ?" Only will remain I think Owls that in the belfry blink And enjoy the ending even. Closing in too soon, alas ! Like an infant's dying ; And across the window-glass Only bloodless bats will pass ; THE SEASONS. 20S Till my sonl ontsighing Breathes a dirge, back-flying To the star-warm summer nights In golden flights ! Oh how blissful to forget The mouldered flowers' regret As they shake the burden of wet From their yellowing petals, set With the seal of winter gloom ; — Beds of faded mignonette. Broken stock and hollyhock. With the roses waiting doom ! Scents of death are in the air ; Not an insect anywhere Now the shady nooks doth fill With the beat of wings, — all dead ! AU dead ! All rung out are Nature's chimes ; Now no more the thrush's bill Merry makes the garden limes ; With the mavis she hath fled. Who musician-like did dwell On her own sweet notes that swell Richly with melodious trill ; She has flown or else is still. Quite still ! Only the brooklet runneth With chill waves And all the wood-grot stunneth With its staves That thrill ! But in the day the rain belies it, And in the night the mists surprise it. 200 THE SEASONS. And in the mom the wind ariseth, Till at last its bubble Is a sigh of trouble, And into it the dead leaves fall One by one, Like a never-ceasing echo Of what has gone, Till they flutter earthwards all. Ever and anon Some lonely wood-bird taketh The burden of her song From them and tells of what has gone ! So the scent of the sodden leaves With the bird's low melody, That with grieving brooklet grieves In a tender-plaining nndertone. Come together unto nie. Till my weary spirit sleeps And I know them not apart, For the scent is like a song Of a battle-day to come, That a soldier sick at heart Singeth mindful of his home. And the song so softly creeps Like a scent it steals along. SONGS OP CHRISTMAS-TIDE. 209 SONGS OF CHRISTMAS-TIDE. NEW TEAR'S EVE. GrOODBTE, Old Tear, goodbye ! Mind you take all my care with yon, Mind yon take all my fear with yon. Old year ; goodbye ! Toll! Hark to his steps ! He hastens fast To reach the land of the shadowy past ! Toll! Memories many he takes with him ; Some shall be lost in that land so dim ; Toll! Some may retnrn when the New Tear's dying And going whither this one is flying ; Toll ! Some we would f ainest keep are gone And as the Old Tear dies are stone ; Toll ! Some that we would not keep there are, That the Old Tear sends from those regions far. Toll! The New Tear from the future stalks, Only twelve steps and in he walks ! Toll! So pass we one of the mile-stones given To remind us we are bound for heaven. Toll ! 210 SONGS OP OHBISTMAS-TIDB. What hopes come into hearts ! A tear Mingles with them for the good Old Tear ; Toll! Just as their foot-steps mingle and merge In a dull and melancholy dirge. Toll! Coming and going, no one can sever Past and future for ever and ever. Toll! Only twelve steps is his despatch ; The New Year is lifting up the latch. Toll! Cover him up and let him lie Deep in each mournful memory ! Welcome, New Tear, welcome ! Bring you any worth with you, Bring you any mirth with you. New Tear ? Welcome ! SONGS OF CHEISTMAS-TIDE. 211 NEW YEAR'S EVE IN THE PAST. Sometimes love I to remember New Tear's Eves now past and gone, January and December Meeting at the solemn tone Of the old clock, midnight sounding, Knelling for dead days, abounding Each with memories of its own. And I think how we were sitting In the flickering fire-light ; Quickly sped the minutes flitting In the waning Year's last night ; Stories told we, grim or witty. Legends old and poet's ditty, Tales of merriment and fright ! Till we suddenly discovered That the midnight hour was near. And we waited while time hovered On the confines of the Tear ; 'Twas a solemn minute, Mystery was in it 1 Then the strokes fell, measured, clear ! Round our mother we came crowding. Round our father's great arm-chair. Some strange sense of sadness clouding Our young spirits, unaware : And with whispered blessing As we all came pressing Breathed they in their hearts a prayer. p 2 212 SONGS OP CHRISTMAB-TIDE. AFTER NEW YEAR'S DAT. Pull down the holly wreath, Scatter down the hoUy, Now the year has ceased to breathe Cease we to be jolly ! The funeral pomp of the Old Year bum And to the work of the New year turn. Down with all the holly ! Bum all the mistletoe, Bum it, bough and berry, Shrivelled so and withered so, — Once it made us merry ! Laugh while you may and laugh while you can, Speed the years quickly and so does man. Spare not bough nor berry ! Tear down the ivy now, — Ivy tendrils braided, — Joy, like sun upon the snow. Flashed and then was shaded ! All things to death and decay must come, Amaranth only lives longer than some, Then like them 'tis faded ! Break down the plumes of yew, FoU for scarlet holly. Only evermore is new Death and melancholy ! Empty the hall and let it be bare ; Crispy leaves are falling here and there ; Finished is our folly ! LADY LILIAN. 215 LADY LILIAN. To Lilian with the sweet Maxionna face Love's eyes, love's touch, love's lips, were worthless dast; She loved the words that praised her haughty grace. And that was all she loved ; to put her trust In the strong heart of any living man Was foolishness to Lady Lilian. The hue, faint as the pink within a shell. That spread her cheek, deepened not at the flame Of conscious love, but only, if her spell Of fascination ever failed, with shame Of injured vanity that quickly vanished. Being by some more novel victory banished. What is it makes us love ? Or who may know What maddening influence some spirits have To make our hearts leap up with such a glow Of tender homage ? Why but one sweet stave Of beauty's song — the endless song she sings — Can bring us charms no other music brings ? One youth loved Lilian, who ever found In her a magnetism that drew his soul As winter draweth summer ; in the sound Of her rich voice, and in her calm control Of all soft manners, more than in the parts That fed the passion of so many hearts. 216 LADY LILIAN. His was a better love, but passionate too ■; He longed for those sweet lips and lily hands, But felt a deeper joy than others knew In merely waiting for her light commands. Love was the blind philosopher and guide Of a pure heart that dreamed not of her pric" But when her measure of disdain had filled The costly draught, that every happy hour Spent by her side had drop by drop distilled With nauseous poison, when the honeyed power Of one sweet word the nectar would have raised To his hot lips to drain, he left her, dazed By her love scorn, and wandered out by night In the June fields to cool his fevered head. O Love, not often hast thou such a light In which to glory, and not often led So brave a warrior to thy cruel lists As him who dived into those summer mists On that deep night ! Oh guide him, gentle moon. That other guide of his is false and blind ! Pilot him, tender stars ; let not so soon His comeliness be slain by fate unkind ! Oh soothe him, nightingale, with opiates, To whose sad note the drowsy air vibrates ! II. A bower that opens to the south ; within, A circle of sweet flowers, chameleon-dyed, And in the midst a cushioned couch, to win Heart-reveries or slumber ; by its side A marble table where cool wine is set. With dainty cup and flagon silver-fret. LA.DT LILIAN. 217 Thither at even, like a marsli-fire, that fleeing Prom the black slushes of his pool, but turns Ever again where springs his life and being, Came the sad lover ; now he sees the ferns And the deep bells that smell like ivory- Kept long with sandal- wood and rosemary ; But not his lady. Swiftly in he creeps And mixes something with the frothy wine. Not poison ? Ah, mad youth ! He peers and peeps, And passes out and hides. That heart of thine, O eager youth, is like an autumn sea That buffets on the rocks unceasingly. Awhile he waits aud trembles at delays. At last, like ring-dove to her nest, she comes ; To pluck the jessamine a moment stays. Then seeks the couch ; among the azalea hums The wandering bee ; the lady's love-birds bill And chuckle amorously ; all else is still. The long June evening spreads along the lawns In giant bars of gold, the pinewoods stand Like monstrous treUis against light that dawns On strange-domed cities and on ocean-sand .That meets the forest, while fair Lilian sips The wine with sweet but passion-hating lips. By turns she sighs or with her Chinese fan Drives off the heated air, but sinks at last Into a heavy drowse, a pale swoon Morphean. Then from his hiding place her lover passed, Soft as an Indian through the forest goes Who stalks the deer with stealthy mocsin shoes. 218 LADY LILIAN. Pale as the stone lie stept on, faint with love, And full of phantasies and vaguest dread He knelt before the maid ; no dream did move Her sleep, but like a Naiad on a bed (j)f ■warm-leaved poppies she was softly laid, While the soothed breeze about her bosom strayed. His whole soul palpitated as a star Imaged within a mffled lake ; he knelt While swarthy twilight heralded the car Of the clear moon ; he scarcely dai-ed to melt The woofed dream ; like Arab when the skies Grow red towards the East, with reverent eyes He gazed enteanced. " O seraph love," he said. And in her pillow then sank tremblingly His arm ; he kissed her, and as from her bed Aurora flashes all the pallid sea. On whose cold bosom with a weary moan All the night long the northern wiads have blown So did her dewy lips unpale his cheek. " Oh 'twas a rare enchantment of the night !' He tangled her long hair in ripples sleek About his hands ; he clasped her fingers white Over his neck, though evermore her hands Parted unnerved, Uke a cord's broken strands. The pearly moonlight frosted her broad brow ; He kissed as if to kiss its stream away, — But it was sweet to have the same sad glow Upon her head and his ! He let it stay, A bar of light across them both to lie, As paced the moon across the summer sky. LADY LILIAN. 219 All never, never, Lady Lilian, Wilt thon again rest in so safe a place And pure as now, let Love do aU he can ! For on his breast thon art ; 'tis no disgrace, — Start not ! — Ah no, she knoweth no alarms, Like a sick babe rocked in its mother's arms. " Oh perfect joy ! Oh bitter, bitter pain ! Eternal woe ! Oh lovely fallen pride ! Thon art mine now, but never more again," He moaned ; and anguished, laying side by side His cheek and hers, was warmed all through by love ; Lulled by his drug she did not wake or move. A sweet delirium doth hold his brain, Delicious as the opium-eater's dream, A struggling sense, as of some sluggish pain Dulled by strange syrups ; all the world doth seem Weighted upon his soul and that fair form Like a calm haven amid a raging storm ! Alas ! like Orpheus, when he tamed with song The powers of hell, his bliss too quickly dies, For from his mistress' lips breaks deep and long A sigh that preludes waking, and her eyes Quiver beneath each aznre- veined Hd ; Now will those placid lakes be soon unhid ! With one last look — the last and bitterest — Upon her lovely face, he sprang away Into the night, that seemed so calm to rest, Like his dear love where on her couch she lay, It maddened him ; he longed for a great storm To crash and thunder with keen lightning warm. 220 LADT LILIAN. Long, long ago tlie youth his love did leave ; Long, long ago he sought to ease his pain By that strange wile, and grieved as they must grieve Who ponr a soul's devotion out in vain, And haughty Lady Lilian long ago "Woke from a trance dreamless of lover's woe. A PORTRAIT. 223 A PORTEAIT. Maiden, tell me why all men love thee ; Then art not handsome, not very fair, And yet there lingers around and above thee An exquisite air, A manner, an inexpressible sweet In which reserve and coyness meet And dimple thy cheek ; And all about thee there doth blow Gusts of an ever-changing mood, As over the autumn fields the streak That marks the breezes' course doth go, While the swallow chaseth his food Over the bent corn's silvery back ; And from thine eyes for ever flow Rivers of fathomless love and faith, And thou hast such a dainty knack Of widening those eyes at what one saith, Till through and through They seem to gaze with their brimming blue. Then down, down. Thou droopest them over thy broidered gown ; Tou may pray in your heart for another look. They are wayward now ! And then there cometh over thy brow That secret mystic air. That makes men love thee they know not how • Say, in what curious nook 224 A PORTRAIT. Of love-lore thy manner was found, The dainty way that is so rare That doth compass thee round ? What subtle essence from thy soul distilleth That the air about thee filleth, That seemeth to tell of half-kissed kisses, Of half -sighed sighs, And half-felt blisses ? What fire lurketh in those eyes That is ever just peeping And never quite sleeping ? What moods are these thou dost devise, That are so dubious-sweet, As when a maiden to her lover cries When he throws himself at her feet, " Away, away ! Arise ! " And yet looks at him so lovingly He knows they are but dear dainty lies And is as happy as love can be ? With many a beauty men are wise. And dark-fringed eyebrows can forget, But thou hast all men in thy net, (Woven around in a passion fret, For none of them understand thee yet,) For love doth strike. And down to thy feet They drop, and there are content to be, Watching thy motions Siren-like, Watching thy perfect symmetry. Yet art thou safe ; they do not dare ■) ' To approach thy wondrous atmosphere, — Thine is not common beauty. But something that nestles in thine hair And wanders about thy finger tips And clasps together thy coral lips And jingles the necklace thou dost wear A PORTRAIT. 225 And entwines itself in thy duty As well as thy merry thoughtlessness. And amid it thou sittest there Working thy broidered dress, Looking so innocent and dear, Like a tulip that in the grass doth grow. And cares not whether 'tis plucked or no, And its perfect form and delicate mould Are more than its bands of red and gold. GUSSAGE. Q 2 229 GUSSAGE. 'TwAS sunset when my friend and I Mounted the breezy hills that lie O'er Cranboume's fir and beech, When pacing on the turf we sought To link the kindred streams of thought And pour them into speech ; We, tossed together in life's lot By that strange Chance, imagined not, Which shapes men's destinies, Tet hath its laws of which we know As little as of winds that blow About the stormy skies ; We two, whose spirits are so twin That when their voices cry within They have the self-same tone. Save when perchance the stress of fate,- Transmitted nature, — ^past estate, — Annul the unison. Cool breezes bathe the fevered vales And earth her viewless mist exhales, .Diffusing balmy dew ; A light that seemed to come from far Bat not of sun or moon or star. Over the valley grew : 230 GUSSAGB. EfEnlgence such as poet dreams In amber depths of ocean gleams With soft mysterious ray, — A lucent vapour, scarce a light, — Distilled till motes and glare too bright Have been refined away. We stand upon the glimmering wolds While sunset all around unfolds The fcolours of the clouds. As when the spring reveals the rose And every ruddy flower that blows Released from winter shrouds. Ah what rare tinctures showed the West ! What limpid lustres unexpressed jS By voice of bard or painter ! What lakes of gold, and yet not gold, — Strange hues that fade from warm to cold, From deeper into fainter ! Such exquisite degrees between The different shades of sheen and sheen As make all language vain : By beryl, topaz, emerald. The gorgeous tints were but miscalled, So subtle was their stain ! While yet more passionately deep The glory clomb the western steep, While darker grew the hills, To Eastward rose the orb of light Which o'er the arched abyss of night Pours forth her silver rills. GUSSAGE. 231 'Tis harvest-time, and crimson dyes Flush Dian from the sunset skies When first she stands confessed And looks across the cloud- expanse Which doth with barren belt enhance The glows of Bast and West ; Majestic, solemn, full of calm. Like music of a choral psalm That tells of patience tried ; So did she rise upon the scene, — The glimmering wolds, — the dark between Low lights on either side. My fancy turned the glass of time (For fancy hath a strength sublime) And backward slid the sand ; Across the plain, as on a stage, Passed men who in a former age Had trod that Dorset-land : Came the arch-courtier Clarendon, Ere that " dim diadem " had gone Of which his master sang ; He looked upon the vale below Where oft at sunrise' frosty glow When larks' clear matins rang He'd seen his father's plough a-field And oft his boyish voice had pealed Across the furrowed loam ; Now in his heart he may compare The palace of a courtier's care With that his rustic home. 232 GUSSAGE. Ah ! trnst me, thoTigh. the lordly name Is full of grand historic fame, More peace did Hyde befall ! The hyde of land his fathers tilled With more content their spirits filled Than fields political. And then, lo ! Monmouth ! Long he stood Upon the plain in solitude. Fresh from the fatal Field, Where seemed a horrid harvest reaped, For by the slaughtered clowns were heaped The sithes they wont to wield. Quiet had fallen on his face Aiter the fever of the race. He knew what filthy sprite Had fanned ambition's foolish flame And in the consciousness of shame He read his soul aright. Pet pampered by the people's whim. And flattered to his death, from him Fate only stood aloof ; Like phantom fire, with luminous crown Through midnight of sedition's frown She lured him to the proof. He passes on : his dainty tire Is smeared with flight's ignoble mire. His mind doubts overwhelm : A traitor to a traitor lord, Who dared to dupe by kingly word His senate, wife, and realm ! GUSSAGE. 233 Then as about a vessel prowl With horrid gambols monsters foul, So followed in his wake The savage Jeffreys, scenting game For scourge and axe, for cord and flame, The gibbet and the stake. Ah ! even now bis victims' blood Above the voices of the flood Cries out from Lyme churchyard. And where the gallow-trees were set Scarce purified is nature yet In rustic clown's regard. Wliat thoughts were thine, thou man of death. When round thee blew an evening's breath Like that wherein I dreamed ? Or what emotion rose at sight Of crimson harvest-moon at night Or valleys where it gleamed ? Perchance they moved thee : for we find Men of the softest sensuous miud The cruel and unjust ; Sensations that can titillate Do breed in them insatiate And unrelenting lust. So was my fancy all outspent. " Sage friend," I cried, " thou hast content ! See where the lights are gleaming Thy welcome Home ! But I, — I go Where rife is slander's Judas-blow And rife intrigue and scheming ! 234 GUSSAGB. " Into the world I go, where jar The blatant sects at endless war In smoke that doth enfold them : Say, is not thine the happy lot ? For wealth and fame are both red-hot To those who have to hold them ! " But what can signify to thee The common crowd's stupidity. The wit of those who trick them ? A leader falls, — ^yon prune your trees : A law is made, — ^you plant your peas : Abolished, — and you pick them ! " So runs thy life : so may it run ; A peaceful unit that doth shun The noisy rout about thee ! Thy books and dahlias cultivate. Let no ambitious churl out-prate Nor Worldly- Wiseman flout thee ! " Trees genealogical uproot, And trees that have no bastard shoot, Prom chronicle or garden : Use, I advise, the secret pen : But ask the world from public men Thy absence stiU to pardon." THE THANKSGIVING IN ST. PAUL'S. 237 THE THANKSGIVING IN ST. PAUL'S. 27tli February 1872. Haek, hark the mighty murmur of the streets ! Thames echoes loud and shore to shore repeats ! A sky of banners canopies the way, Arches aloft the blazoned scroll display ; Though only now the rosemary doth bloom, Scattering on wintry breeze its waste perfume. Here twine festoons with hues chameleon dyed, Wherein no melancholy flower may hide. The motley multitudes that surge below Throb with one impulse, with one pleasure glow, Nor locust-swarm upon Nigritia's plain Obscures the earth with more innumerous train, While through their midst in slender line advance The nodding plume and pennon-bearing lance ; A royal ensign leads the bright array, That through the crowd preserves a separate way Like silvery stream dividing waters gray. 'Twas thus the Black Plantagenet of yore Who first Bohemia's triple plumage bore The lustly burghers' salutations met. What time upon the battle steed of jet Decked in the trappings of victorious pride He proudly rode the captive Frank beside ; But now no savage joy these cheers reveal. No warlike deed inflames the people's zeal. No Roman pomp the public wonder draws, Though princely name inspires the loud applause. 238 THE THANKSGITING IN ST. PAUL's. Lo yonder dome, wtose pinnacle doth glow Over the tides of life that moan below Like the sea-pyramid that rears its crest Where Clyde at length in ocean seeks his rest, A solitary crag whose snmmits rise Sheer from the mnrmnring deep and pierce the skies ! Within that quiet girdle of gray walls Through nave and choir a noon-day twilight falls ; Like cataract, whose distant waters pour A soothing thunder, sounds the city's roar. And arches huge with dim mysterious span Stretch far aloft and crown the wondrous plan. Like vestibules of Heaven, where wait the prayers of man. With worshippers is thronged each spacious aisle, Wealth, rank, and beauty fill the lordly pile. Range above range expectant thousands wait. The chivalry and wisdom of the state ! But what do those increasing shouts portend ? What forms are these that through the portals wend ? They pass amid the throng in regal train ; The dais draped in purple now they gain ; Fair eyes grow dim while fainter music steals And England's Queen for one brief moment kneels. Like goodly jewels round the central gem That flashes in a priceless diadem. Her children gather near ; and first the son For whom the nation fought in prayer and won : With sickness weak and wan, he stands beside The fairest gift of Heaven, his lovely bride. Of that old race whose Pagan soldiers gave The Saxon King a martyr's honoured grave. Above him hangs the bell whose knelling tone Booms only for a scion of the throne ; THE THANKSGIVING IN ST. PAUL's. 239 Not yet, not yet shall clang its clmrlisli tongue, Long may it sleep, in silent darkness hnng ! " Now glory be to thee," the channt breaks forth, " Who still rememberest mercy in Thy wrath ; To pass whose limit death may never dare, But like the hungry ocean tarries there. Glory to Thee who didst from life's mid-day Disperse the gathering mists with cheerful ray." Great architect of Knoyle, who didst refuse A pattern for thy glorious work to choose, "Whose virgin genius, spite of priests and king. Sublimely soared on self-reliant wing, Hadst thou a vision of an hour like this When thou didst plan that splendid edifice ? They worshipped not alone who kneeled within, A common joy all British hearts made kin. Outstripping far the speed of Ariel's flight The instantaneous message bore delight To all whom foreign grove's ambrosial scent Charmed not as Scotland's heather-clothed ascent, As Erin's shamrock plain, or yellow vale of Kent. For all had bowed beneath the chastening rod, Had well-nigh seen the wasted face, and trod The darkened room, and felt the breath of fear Benumb the heart and chill the welling tear. The heathen poet's bitter wail was vain That flowers in vernal season bloom again But us no spring awaits when once we die. In senseless sleep for ever doomed to lie, — Tet better wisdom little softens death To those who watch a loved one's fluttering breath, What time the spirit with expanding wings Seems but to poise before aloft it springs ; 240 THE THANKSGIVING IN ST. PAUL'S. Past words that hannt some chamber of the brain In sick-bed watches whispering sound again. Moments unnoticed as they fleeted by Are lived a myriad times in memory, And in the brooding spirit mirrored clear The images of vanished things appear. Like shapes on which we fixed a heedless gaze That afterwards are seen in phantom haze. Such vigU royal wife and mother kept ; In solitude, yet not alone, they wept ! The spirit of the people hovered nigh And sympathetic shared the weary sigh, Britannia shuddered at each new alarm. Could smile no more, and vainly strove for calm. As when the tempest-clouds at summer's prime With sudden darkness to the zenith climb. The thunder mutters sullenly afar, And herald winds proclaim celestial war ; Yet gliding harmlessly above the plain On sable pinions sweeps the hurricane, And borne on vapours of fantastic form, TJnriven yet, careers the eddying storm ; When earth the eternal blue again can see All Nature breaketh into jubilee ! The cowering insects leap from flowers and ferns. The spider to her gossamer returns, Again is heard the cricket's castanets. The nightingale renews her sweet regrets : So sorrow over England brooded dark, While seemed like waning star the vital spark ; So when the doubtful scales had turned again, Beginning even balance to regain, From town to town the breathless tidings flew, And with its hopes the country's pleasure grew ; THE THANKSGIVING AT ST. PAUL'S. 241 Grlad tears suffused the labouring peasant's eye, The anxious statesman felt his troubles fly, Over the ocean hope's contagion stole. And Albion's children joyed from pole to pole. But now to heaven are paid the praises meet, The royal band repasses to the street. Where women hold their infants up on high To see their widowed sovereign passing by, And men shout loud the gracious prince's name Till every echo rings with fond acclaim. So they are gone ! and quickly melts from view The mighty host that, like Vich Alpine's crew, Seemed suddenly to spring a myriad strong. To pleasure and to toil returns the throng. The wheels of life revolve in wonted grooves, And London in accustomed orbit moves. But long as patriots for their country pray Shall live in British hearts the great Thanksgiving Day. THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. E 2 2i5 THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. 1872. Murmur the ripples of a brineless sea That mirrors fleecy cloud and azure sky, Whisper the southern breezes blowing free, Whistle the water-fowl with startled cry ! A boundless lake ! A green immensity Of undulating prairie on whose slope The warrior Indian tracks his enemy. Entraps the beaver, hunts the antelope. And lives a sim.ple life, with little fear or hope ! Lo ! where a river winds along the plain By bluff and hollow to the lake below ; Upon its bank when day begins to wane From one small hut a lonely light doth glow, That wisp-like in the darkness glimmers low ; There one white man hath made a dwelling-place ; Of none save beast or prairie-bird the foe, He basks in light of Nature's smiling face. And loves his log-built home, though far from kindred race. This was the germ from whence Chicago rose, / ![ , With lordly spires pfa hundred fanes, iZd ( C^r^ ■■^'>- With labyrinth of streets untrod by foes, With marts wherein the whole world gives and gains — Storehouses where Wisconsin hoards her grains, And sculptured arches that the river span ; E'en Cincinnati, built upon two plains. 246 THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. Boasteth no swifter growth, no fairer plan, That this the City-Queen who rales Lake Michigan ! Fair land, where darts the fire-fly's glow-worm beam Across the midnight glade, an animate star. Where stretched from vale to vale and stream to stream Primeval forests house the lithe jaguar, Where ocean booms on many a sandy bar, The old adventurer, who saw thee shine Beneath the morning hazes, dim and far. Dreamed for his new-found treasure no design No ornament, more rich than this bright gem of thine ! Oh, woe that I must tell of this thy pride Marred, as an undried painting by one smear, Her pinions clipped in mid-flight stretching wide. Defaced by days the work of many a year ! Woe that the Red Destroyer was so near When all seemed peace, and Nature's harshest law Was wreaked on thee, that whatso seemeth dear To lavish fate, once stained, is injured more Than any graceless thing with blemish and with flaw ! How sad the day when over anchored ships. And houses stretching far to left and right In populous maze, and miles of wharves and slips Low in the fleecy sky there gleamed a light, Paling the calm disperser of the night, When the ensign of the Demon overhead Black-fuming curled and blurred the straining sight. And cries and murmurs on the breezes sped Of men that strove in vain and frighted crowds that fled. Old records tell that in a fennel-stalk A stubborn gift a stubborn giver hid ; Sharp as the pilfered flame, with impious talk THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. 247 He railed at heaven, of fetters yet unrid, Boasting how he had oped the adamant lid Of Vulcan's treasnre-ohest, nor bent his knee Before Jove's wrath, nor hearkened what he bid ; So doth his gift, untamed and stern as he, Plot against mortal rule and break from slavery. Now in the city glows the Demon's face ; As showers of stars shoot through the midnight air A stream of sparks that rushing whirlwinds chase, Flows in his smoke, like comets' grisly hair ; Adder-like tongues of flame beneath him flare, And from the blistered ground beneath his feet Forked spikes of fire arise with blood-red glare, Entwining writhe and high in mid-air meet. Or merged in masses roll, as ocean billows fleet ! The ways are crowded with a struggling band ; Some sink exhausted in the giddy press. Striving for refuge of the prairie-land ; Some frenzied laugh and sing in childishness ; While on the open plain crouch shelterless — Like flock of sheep iu sudden summer rain — The homeless mass ; there horror and distress Of mind or body many a groan constrain, Andj[men in sorrow brood and women loud complain. Where are the friends so merry but this morn ? Where the fair homes so full of hope but late ? The wonted comforts of old age forlorn. The aspirations that strong youth elate ? Where yon Destroyer gluts insatiate His fiery maw, all crumbled into dust ! Abodes of high ambition, love, and hate Those flames devour; there piety and lust Alike lie side by side, as aU that's earthly must ! 248 THE BUENING OF CHICAGO. Night brings no comfort : nigtt, that aching eyes In slnmber steeps and rests the weary brain Bathed in the dew of tender memories, Is here but harbinger of doubled pain, TUl over city and the prairie-plain Gather the storm-clouds, hurrying low and black. That break in tempest of more precious rain Than slid round Danae ; before the attack The wanton Demon quails and draws his legions back. As some have dug about the mummy walls That under plough and furrow long have lain. Disrobing ancient undecaying halls That old Vesuvius with his fire-born rain Held from the fretting ages and Time's stain, — As ants, when all their nest is overthrown And bared to view their cells of golden grain, Harry about their mound from base to cone. The citadel heap up and slothfulness disown, — So in the morn among the grey ash-drifts. The mingled dust of mansion and of shed. One seeks lost treasure and another lifts The branded timber, searching for the dead, — Clay that the mighty Sculptor fashioned Fashionless now, that none can mould anew ; Some have together passed the portal dread. Embracing, ever to affection true, Some soulless temples lie, that no love ever knew. Cruel the anguish, city of the "West, The unsuspected evil hurled on thee ; Tet shrink not ! Take the lesson to thy breast ! For, though it sting, 'tis not so poisonously As the small worm that envying Anthony Upon the bosom of his queen did sup. No sorrow wholly purposelV can be c 55 THE BURNING OF CHICAGO. 249 If straight the scroll of woe be eaten up And nncomplaining emptied Marah's bitter cnp. Let ns remember sorrow comes from God, And whatsoever misery he sends One flower bnds ever on the avenging rod, — Dove-pinioned charity from heaven descends, Hard hearts with sympathy unwonted bends, And proveth many a spirit's worth by pain. Though everything that's human ill attends. Through tribulation happiness we gain, And BtUl the seeds of woe the blooms of joy contain. NO NAMES. 253 NO NAMES. I TOOK my lute when mirth, and wine Were fastening wings upon the honrs What time your eyes were close to mine And idleness Olympian onrs ; ' A cloud across the sun did float, I took my lute and struck a note : " Say, are we framed for nobler things. With one stern watchword, 'Do or die,' That we can't soar on so light wings Towards destined sublimity ? And is it very true to preach We cannot gather, but we reach ? " Earth was made fair ; it cannot be That in the days when life is stem The magic touch of memory That bids these heedless hours return Can ever lessen purpose strong Or bridge the gulf ' twixt right and wrong. " But rather, when we scarce can weep, Because our heart is stifB and dead. Shall bring a sudden torrent deep, — To count the years gone o'er our head Since gold-leaf wings the summers grew. Since this was I and that was you." 254 NO NAMES. The wtole world's hatred would not me dismay If thou did'st love me ; faiUng that, thy wrath Breathe out upon me Htterly, I pray ! The winds of Love are West and South and North And blighting East, — oh send the foulest forth ! AU, aU were welcome in this stormless bay Of stagnant friendship where we lie and rock ; They would no tender thought of mine affray, But be a hopeful fear, a soothing shock ! The Aeolus who can those winds unlock Is Love himseK ; therefore if thou canst say Thou hotly hatest me, thou mayest love some day ! NO NAMES. 255 OuE thoughts are like the planets that do run, Some warm as Love, some as Medusa cold, In various ellipse about the sun, Eange beyond range, far into depths untold. Some thoughts are like the stars that stedfast shine And falsely waver only in false waves, That through dark watches chaunt in choir divine, Till sounds again the sun's full organ-staves : Some shiae with meteor's sudden radiance ; And some like comets overthrow the law Of steadier star-creatures ; and some dance With one chill convex Phoebus never saw. But what their sun, how shines it, and has shone, Is what their light and use depend upon. 256 NO NAMES. When lucidly transparent is tte air How near seem distant motintaias to the gaze ! Nay rather, save at such a season rare, How distant seem near monn^tins through the haze ! So truth is truly near, but seemeth far. And what it Is it seems when it seems near ; Though for the most 'tis like a feeble star That glimmers through a turbid atmosphere. NO NAMES. 257 Rose, rose, crimson rose, Hast thou not drunk of the sun's rich ray ? Hast thou not bathed in the ruby bay Where the young Phoebas laveth his limbs After his journey across the day ? Rose, rose, crimson rose, Better than apples of gold to roll Would'st thou have been to beguile the soul Of Atalanta, and while she ranged Thee in her robe He could touch the goal ! Rose, rose, crimson rose, Better than gifts Polyphemus gave Unto his mistress under the wave Thou and thy peers would have been, to melt Her heart so cold to his love-sick rave. MISCELLANEOUS. s 2 261 MISCELLANEOUS. ON A STATUE OF A PRAYING BOY. ELOQUENCE of mnte unconscious form ! What ! can I touch, thee and thou art not warm ? O curving thighs, like stones lihat smoothed are ^ Beneath the splash of some sure waterfall ! ^ J^y''^ O arms stretched out to heavtn that ever call _- — For blessings on this house ! Most pleasant Lar ! Out in the chill and dark to brave the night, Fearing someway of thee to be bereft For whom I sorrow still when thou art left Thou daily inspiration and delight ! Sure, if thou art not quick thou once wert so ! Perchance Medusa's eyeballs long ago Startled thee into stone, when dawning day Had just aroused thee from thy sleep to pray. 262 MISCKLLANEODS. VOX HUMANA. • Sonus, qui natnrS, anblime fertnr." Oicero. Beware what thou dost say : By Nature every sound is borne aloft, Heaven above doth mark its tone, or loud, or soft ; Beware 1 Whether its tone be false or true Upward 'twill pierce the heavenly blue. Poftder before thou speakest : ' Thy voice is like a caged bird set free, Only its memory can return to thee ; Ponder ! Sublimely as it soars away Bid it to sing a holy lay. Take thought of thy words' force ; Nature is strong and every sound must rise ; Let not thyself wish that 'twere otherwise ; Take thought ! Remember the Great Seer did say Wisdom but answers Tea and Nay. Take care ! An echo rests In that high vault to which thy words have passed, Whose power even through long years may last ; Take care ! If like a sword thy tongue thou hast whet, That echo may be sharper yet ! MlSCELLADfEOnS. 263 A WALK. Wateey and cold and like to moonliglit falls Among the leafless elms the sun's last rays, And opposite, a bank of cloud enwalls The placid evening star, and hides it from our gaze. Fir trees grow dark over the distant slope, The smoke of burning weeds grows purple where The sunlight gleams behind, as when sweet hope Shines through " the fume of sighs " and bids us not despair. Cahn through the chilly air its incense flows Dead-gray before the firs, but up above All purple, where in purer light it goes. Like souls that are suffused by tender glows of love I Over the heather earth hath drawn a veil, A slender steam, because her lord is gone, And all is hushed repose while Cynthia pale Par in the cool deep silence shows her glistening horn, Whispering to Earth, " Thy lord will come to-morrow morn !" 264 HISCBLI/ANEOIIS. A LETTER. Whin faith is faint, love cold, and spirit sad, Wten glimmers all the world a burning waste, Fresh gale of fancy blow, nor leave me glad : But give me holy grief and make my passion chaste. Show me where through a churchyard wicket lie. With many a sculptured text and holy rhyme. The hoary gravestones, where the chesnuts sigh And in a maze of boughs spreads out the budding lime. Lead me by yon gray towers and let me rest, Till the chill moon the sombre cloud hath pearled. Here in this spot, where lie in narrow rest Caskets that jewels held more precious than the world ! Point where beneath the grass, where violets grow. Bests one whose mission-path led up to Grod, Whom his girl- wife Earth's bosom .laid below (Scarce wedded !) with a faith that looks above the sod. Within yon ivied house the trailing rose In at the lattice peering sees her sit In summer eves, not overborne by woes. With patient deep-brown eyes by memory lit. For " as a weaned child" her spirit is, Loving her mother still, the gentle earth. But fretting never for her gaieties, Heavenward drawn by love, in labour or in mirth. MISCELLANEOUS. 265 O mossy emerald lawn, kiss her yoang feet ; O tender breezes, play around her head ! Shadow her, summer glade, so cool and sweet ! Soft Nature, banish harm, for thou dost clasp her dead. God's fairest images but broken shrines. But shattered mirrors of His Beauty are. Yet bless'd the radiance that on us shines From souls awaiting temples new that nought shall mar. Fair Irish girl, — a widow, and so fair, — Give of the crystal spring that in thee wells, To cool this brow and banish foolish care, As morning's healthful ray the marish mist dispels. 266 MISCELLANEOUS. THE TWO SPIRITS. Spirit, art thou dying ? Nay, for spirits die not : Spirit art thon flying ? Seraph-spirit, fly not ! Gray as wintry skies are Life without thee seemeth, Tinct as butterflies are When thy glory beameth. Long ago thou earnest, Found me, boy, a-playing ; Into rhymes the lamest Then I went a-straying ; They were but the vapours Of hot- wells far under, Fumes of sunlit tapers. Echoes faint of thunder. Then a sunset river Thrilled me, why I knew not ; With ecstatic shiver Saw I flowers that grew not Save by twilight Lethe Or Famassus' fountain, — Dreamed on uplands heathy Of Hymettus' mountaihl MISCELIiAKBOUS. 267 Many a dream fantastic Came with dear persistence, Fancy, then elastic, Over-stretched existence ; Now I have to beckon When I 've need of Fancy, Then dare hardly reckon On her necromancy. Though not all was dreaming ; There 's a maid I wot of Whose brown eyes are teeming With a love thought not of. What is dream or vision ? Riddles do involve them ; With what sweet precision Living answers solve them ! But there is a coldness In the world around us. That before we 've boldness Greatly doth confound us ; Caged enthusiasm Beats itself to pieces, And a sudden spasm On the free heart seizes. 'Tis a chilly Spirit, Myriads possess it, Very few the merit That they dare confess it ; 'Tis a Spirit making Poetry and passion In young hearts awaking Too much out of fashion. 268 MISCELLANEOUS. Hence the apathetic Wisest saw for lovers Sick for sympathetic Hopefulness, that covers Longest space of waiting ; Faithless apprehension Hence of happy mating If it thwart convention. Tea, a Spirit scares thee. Spirit, from my bosom. And as surely sears thee As May-frosts the blossom ; For the freezing finger Chills thee more than winter, Though thou couldest linger Safe where icebergs splinter. Yet do not ignore me, I would be thy martyr, For there go before me Heroes, as of Sparta, They who still were willing Only thou shouldst guide them P^ Thou thy law fulfilling V V V- M *- Trouble might betide them. MISCELLANEOUS. 269 THE POET. Does the poet sing for the People to pnrify their way ? Does the poet sing for his darling, that she may hear some day ? Or does he sing for no reason but because he cannot stay ? Perhaps he knows not the reason, but 'tis hidden away somewhere Perhaps some day he will find it — come on it unaware. When darkness lights the heavens that by day were all so bare ; Perhaps he'll find it at day-break when the solemn light comes up When the moon has hastened away on Endymion's Hps to sup And night has grown weary a-waiting for morning's cordial cup ; Perhaps he'll see it at death-time, when his work is done and lies Like one great scroll before him (for death makes strong the eyes), Scroll that is sweet with loving, and bitter with human cries. For death to him shall gather his Spirit, whose portions steal Through the measureless abysses of all that man can feel, With eyes that are never wildered, and tongues that can reveg,!. What ! know ye not why the poet so often of night-tide slugs ? Oh they are kindred, — sadness showing us lovely things ! Darkness pregnant of starlight, — sighs of which melody springs ! He draws from the heart of the Human tears that he makes his own. He draws from the spirit of Nature sounds of a mystic tone. His mirth (an it draw quick smiles) hath the theme of some deeper moan ! 270 MISCELLANEOUS. And when Ms mouth is mntest within there is sotmd on sound. For shafts of light come slanting from the hoary mountains round To his heart's embowered vale, by a stream of tears enwound. Ah ! could ye see him greet it, with eyes undazed and proud, Light from the hoary mountains where winds are ever loud, Light that would scathe another, one of the common crowd ! Why then do men not hearken ? List to the throstle's note Spring after spring vibrating, — why should his idle note Be breathed so often only for wood-things that cannot dote ? Like dews from heaven desoending to swell a lustral rill. The stream of Truth and Beauty they are ordained to fill That through earth's swamp Augean is purely running still. MERRY RHYMES. 273 MERRY RHYMES. A FAREWELL TO "THE ADVENTURER." Thou glazy azure magazine, Almost an institution, To Editors a Titan scheme, To readers, Lilliputian, And am I truly penning now Thy sempiternal " Vale" I whom a visionary plough Is furrowing for my " Paley " ? I who sometime appeared in thee A rather random rhymer, What time I unlearnt history And learnt my battered Primer, And saw thee passed with eyes of scorn In Williams' window e^'er, When early school disgorged at morn The votaries of Webber ! Ah ! better to the Fonrth-Porm boy Ham-sandwiches' completeness. And buttered-bun, that spongy joy. Than all your blue-blushed sweetness. T 274 MEKET KHTMES. And better to the coat-tailed swell The novel bound in yello-w, With mnrders, messes, morals, — ^well, That Swinburne might call mellow. (Alliteration, don't yon see, Is half the proof of poets. And joins to Sonnets jinglingly A sparkle as of Moet's). It is not that they deem beneath Their noble soul gymnastic To draw an intellectual breath Of grammar less elastic Than bides in any shilling vol. At any railway station, But that they have not in their poll A true appreciation. LrJ^ They easier ken how Long-legs max. Has sculled with much discretion, That mark babe genius st.amp the wax With smudgy first impression, Ere culture balances the wit. Midwife of inspiration, And in the deathless sky is lit Another constellation. Hereafter, may " Digamma " be A leading politician. Our children hear of " C. C. T." A poet with a mission I MEEET EHTMES. 275 And may not " E. C. S." be there His " clear cold engine " turning On " Tom " who still will tear his hair For ever inly burning ; And others, — some who never knew A stirring after beauty Until to be wrapped up in blue Became their bounden duty ? Alas, they 've lost esprit de corps In all they might be proud in. And pleasure is the only poor Poor boast that they are loud in. • • They grudged, old friend, the pennies six Which marked thy limits tinwards, (And didn't pay for use of dips Composing of thy inwards !) Perchance when with a " place," a wife, Partridge preserves and pheasant, When gout has warped his views in life And running is not pleasant, Yon wet-bob, racked with ennui, will Become an antiquary, Seek virgin lines of statesman's qaiU, Or poet's first vagary, A faded binding sewn between. Fit for the relic-lover. Or perhaps a modest magazine In perhaps a bluish cover ! T 2 276 MEERT EHTMBS. What mlt thou not be unto Hm When he becomes thy owner ? A symphony of memories dim Of days at old Etona, A savour of old times forgot, A painter of lost faces, A fall of footsteps that know not The dear familiar places. Tet why a sadness thus avow Thy spirit so to vex it ? Ton 've had a bright career and now An honourable exit. No pattern fine thy skin tattooed With twirligigs symbolical, Nor any critics thee reviewed In any periodical ; In simple style was put in type Effusions grave or quizzy. Which sometimes some uncommon wight Would purchase for a tizzy : When other people were in school, Poot-balling, or wet-bobbing. For fear of being thought a fool With " sappy '' sense hob-nobbing He'd steal into the shop where you In window would be lying, Accomplishing while no one knew The mystery of buying. MEEET EHYMIS. 277 Oh ! would that I could know each, one Who split into two particles His bob, and 'stead of Punch or Fun Perused his schoolmates' articles ! Not that a now, deplume might catch His glances, mild or critical, But lifting up the jealous latch Scms process analytical Of prose or rhyme, that he might peep Beyond the world of rowing, Past beagles, dry-bobs, all who keep The body's worship going, Into a temple calm and cool, Grray -arched and incense-teeming. Where self appears a peevish fool With very little meaning. Wherein the " grand old masters" stand Priest hands to heaven reaching, Ajad round them many a humble band Which looks to them for teaching To catch an echo of the sound. The voices of Immortals, That pours the hollow aisles around An d mutters through the portals ! If thou hast led a single soul Toward that portal hidden, ' Tis easy, sure, to pay Death's toll. Dear book, when thou art bidden. 278 MEBET EHTMBS. Farewell, old friend, the chrysalis Perchance of some great spirit. Which loathing fashion's ronge to kiss A summer will inherit Within men's hearts that shall not die, Which, struggling to existence, Shall soar away into the sky When free from Earth's resistance. Bidding adien to sordid ways And soulless aims that fetter. Until, on high, to wistful gaze 'Tis lost in something better. UEBKT BHYM£S. 279 "CONFESSIONS." I. Mt " favourite virtue " ? Virtues oan't afford Dwarfs to be made, to fit a single word. Already there's too little of the same ; No virtue can be reckoned in a name. I am enamoured of that hardihood That Burdett had, who though misunderstood, Maligned by envy, hampered by mistrust. Fought on the aide he deemed the true and just. II. Whatever my " idea of joy " may be 'Tis also my " idea of misery " ! What woe 'twould be (let every man confess) To realise our dreams of happiness ! III. " What colour do I value " ? " Brown, deep brown." Tou cry, " To what a dingy taste you own ! " I answer (sorry that you disapprove), " Because I see it in the eyes I love." III. My " favourite flower " ? No favouritism here ! Creation all is good, and all are dear. V. " If not myself who should I wish to be " ? A child who dies in earliest infancy. 280 MBERT RHYMES. VI. Ton ask me now what poets and what prosers, Heroines, heroes, painters, and composers, I most admire ? If ignorance remained In native darkness and from speech refrained, Not often would these questions have reply. So far as poets go, " Myself," say I ! VII. Ask not in these adulterating days What dish is nice, what beverage worthy praise ; Ask only what is safe to drink and eat ; For bread is good if really made of wheat, And water too (excepting to a brewer) If taken from a spring and not a sewer. VIII. I'm sure that Adam gave his spouse a name That never may be known to vulgar fame : " Eve " meant the mother of all human life, Bilt that pet-name to Adam spoke of Wife. Pet-names I love the best, but none reveal, Lest, not content with two, the world should steal. IX. Since neither time nor mind have any state My " present state of .mind " I.can't relate ; The present flies to mingle with the past. And minds, for ever changing, move as fast. X. The motto of my house to me is dear — " Pactisnon verbis ; " and the sense is clear In reference to these wretched scraps of rhyme, — It means, " Confessions " are a waste of time ! MEEKY RHYMES. 281 TWO VOICES; OE, YOUNG AND OLD. A Parenthetical Song of a Picnic. Who loves not to roam the meadows When the barley has been stacked ? (Yes, we re very fond of going When we 've seen the Inncheon packed !) Sweet it is to hunt the hedges For the blackberry and sloe. (Sweet for those whose skins are leather, And digestion strong, you know !) How the children love the meadows Where the thistledown is tossed By the playful autumn breezes (When the children don't get lost !) Then the nuts are ripe and sweetest. Growing in the tanglewood ! (Very ripe and sweet, no question, When your teeth are very good.) Then the mushrooms too are freshest, (Toadstools — don't like 'em, do you ?) Then's the season to go hopping — (Then the frogs go hopping too !) 282 UEBBT RHYMES. How the pure breeze sweetens luncheon As from heath and hill it blows ! (And the wasps that swarm by hundreds Sweeten it also I suppose ?) When at last in later evening Phoebus in his season due Drops below the red horizon (Then the dew drops heavy too !) Then the merry party gathers, Merry likewise young and old, Homeward bound, their wanderings over, (Like to catch their death o' cold !) Dtjet. Now the merry day is over. Now the happy hours are passed ; Homeward turn ; for homeward turning Wanderings ever end at last. Children's prattle hath its meaning, , Hours that have so sweetly flown Surely these too have a virtue. Have a meaning of their own ? Who shall say how oft by pleasures Such as these may God declare — Working greatly in a little — " Lo, the pathway ; walk ye there " ? Ah, the hedgerows and the meadows Sunshine shed or shadows cast Often on a life, till home-bound All our wanderings end at last ! MERRY RHYMES. 283 NAPPO. Sentient Idyll ! Embodied Emotion ! Lithe as a leopard, as grasstopper droll ! Wert thou bom of a sorcerer's lotion ? Art tbon a chip of some shattered soul ? Surely Tit^nia, wishing a jester, Did as Prometheus when he made man, — Took up a skin that the fairies had dressed her, Sewed it with cobwebs, stufEed it with bran, And then infused in it various natures, — Grace of the antelope, lambkin's play, — Still there was wanting a something, the creatures Heard the unsatisfied fairy say. Motion's chameleon, kaleidoscopic Spasms of posture, changes of mood, (Poesy ranging from topic to topic ! Eloquence striving to be understood !) Action ecstatitj or restfulness utter, (Anthony's queen had never such pose) Gesture that speaks without ever a stutter Just in the language a sculptor knows. Such are some signs of the last spirit mingled ; Nought of its origin history tells ; Whatever it was, 'twas certainly singled Out of the choicest, by fairy spells ! 284 MEEEY RHYMES. EPITAPH ON JIM, MY DOG. Mt friends, an epitaph canine Can only be in doggrel rhyme ; So here in doggrel rhyme I write Of Jim deceased, my terrier white. The Epitaph. Here lieth one who, thongh no qnack, His ready bark did never lack. Before his life was thus curtailed In danger's face he never paled, And now in Acheron mayhap His shade at Cerberus will snap. To slay all rats he did determine, Yet he himself did harbour vermin. And this he learnt from men no doubt, Who do the things they chiefly scout. With him (as cynics often brag) One clever stroke has made a wag ; His tale at last Death's shears have docked (His ears had long ago been cropped) And now beneath yon stocks and stones For the last time he's hid his bones. CIRCE. 286 cmcB. {An Extravaganza.) Scene : Spam, Greece, am^ Circe's Island, which lies any- where most suitable to the plot. Time, 1876. The ancient gods (being gods) still exist. Dramatis Personaa. Amaibas, Ghlora's lover, an Englishman, Captain of the Passenger-ship, " The Siren." Cloanthus, Friend of Amaiias. Neptune. Pan. SiK John Dory, Lord Ohcmiberlam to Neptune. CiRci). Taege, Circe's Familiar. Chloba, om Englishwoman living in Spain. Floeita, Chlora's Attendamt. Galatea, Neptums's Wife. The mate of " The Siren." The Carpenter of " The Siren." Passengers, Seajmen, Page, Bancmg Girls, Attendants, Herald, Satyrs, Nymphs, etc. 287 CIRCE. (An Extravaganza.} ACT I. Scene 1. — A marriage hanquet at Bhegissa on the coast of Greece. Ciece and Cloanthus seated next each other and Amaibas opposite them. Music, Slaves, Danevng Girls, etc. Time : May-day morning. Cloanthus (aside'). Why this is Circe! A most grue- some Lamia ! A pestiferous witch ! The wicked fairy godm.other of the nursery story. What bargain has she in hand ? I must needs be civil, for I would not be evil- eyed, as once I was. I would I could pluck ofE that thin skin of beauty ! But I must needs be civil. (Addresses Oirce.) A most terrific cackle ! Squeal and squeak ! CiR. Wine verily hath voices that can speak. Clo. Inform me, Circe, what has brought you here ; Tou wei'e not used to join in wedding cheer : In quite a different orgie you delight. No patron surely of a godly rite ! > CiR. Good sir, the bridegroom is a friend of mine. Clo. But all else enemy, — except the wine ! 288 CIRCE. CiB. Nay, not the ceremony that we saw. Clo. I comprehend not ; for there seemed no flaw. CiR. There was that flaw that none can remedy, That flaw that holy water washes not. That sanctimonions words exorcise not, That neither law of Church or State effects ! It was a blemish in the heart of him Who would this contract sign, declare this bond. And seal this treaty ; for the heart must seal. Sign, and declare, a valid pact to make Of solemn marriage : otherwise tis void. This man has only lusted for the maid And been too weak this contract to refuse, Seeing without it all must be foregone. Tet will he not be faithless ; but his wife WUl be his licensed mistress ; not as one Who shares his very nature and his life. Clo. These are true words ; I would that I could guess How truth you leam, but never truthfulness ! ClE. You are severe ; yon have a right ; I think You of my potions sometimes take a drink ! Clo. (stwrting). Alas ! I home. CiE. Then was your question forced ? Often, you know, are heart and brain divorced ; Sometimes is passion paramour ; again, Keason may cause the rupture of the chain. And so one half man's nature be left out To satisfy the logic of one lout ! (She lecms to him. and whispers) Truce to philosophy ! But tell me true. What paragon of beauty smiles at you ? Clo. (rehiotcmtly') . That — is — Amaibas. CiR. Names are little worth ; I want to know his fortune and his birth, His doings — CIRCE. 289 Clo. Nay ; I would not have him harmed. CiE. My dranghts such trepidations should have calmed ! Clo. Speak not so loud, I pray ! I'U tell you plain — He is a Captain, and he sails to Spain Ten days from this — his lady will he meet After a two years' absence — Oh, 'tis sweet (Sings very softly) 'Tis sweet to skim with sails unfurled When East- winds curl the billows' crest ! Then who so happy in the world As he whose love is in the West ? Haul, haul the sheet, my sailors brave ! Like sea-gull flying to her nest, With merry wind and rolling wave My ship will hasten to the West. Her snowy plumage flutters out. The billows flash about her breast, The East- wind blows, the sailors shout. My ship weighs anchor for the West ! (Amaibas snrnles, and signs to Cloanthus)- That is his song ;■ you saw him sign to me ; I thought his ears would catch the melody. JEnier a Page. Page. The bride and bridegroom shortly will depart ; Let all the guests God-speed them as they start. (Exeunt omnes.) Scene 2. — Ctecb's Island. Cieoe reclining on a eotich in her palace. Time: Majy 6; morning. Enter Taegb. Taeqe (aside). She's as dull as an oyster with the V 290 CIECB. rheumatism ! I'll warrant me there's some new gallant in her eye. She sighs as much for a new gallant as a nnn for an old one ! (Re approaches Oiece behind ami shouts m her ear.) Tow! Toho! Oiece (starts) Yon nasty poisonons creatnre ! Get away ! Tae. Madam, I tarn. I haste me to obey. CiE. Ton most fantastical abortion, stay ! Tae. (aside) She started like Ulysses when he felt His tail a-growing underneath his belt ! OiE. I have a thing to tell thee. Tae. Shall I guess ? Is it a two-legged lump of foolishness ? CiE. A so-so guess ; it is ! And we must strike While iron's hot ! Tae. Tou're really Browning-like ! His articles appear to be forgot ; They're understood ; which perhaps is why he's not. But come, describe this man without elision ; Hang telescopic styles ; I like precision. OiE. He has an animated Phidian face. In which there lurks no jot of common-place. His beauty is not relative, as eyes May haply deprecate or haply prize, By some thought passable, by others good. By one adored, by one not understood. Called by this critic harsh, by that too tame ; His beauty leaps beyond the line of blame Or of that praise whose ignorance insults. And only can be measured by results ; For when he comes into a room, no eye But admiration speaks, or "jealousy. Beauty is made by rule, as all things are That beauty have ; a rule that reaches far CIECE. 291 And by divergence within strict degrees Make^beanty by variety to please So nmch the more than if it rigid stood By measurement exact of standard good ; For Pisan towers may lean so much, no more, And margins edge the letter of the law. But to return : his eyes are violet ; Strange colour for the male ; yet firmly set Under large eyebrows and such frontal span Of just perception as declare the Man, Before whose larger nature 'tis ordained Woman, the Angel, trembles when arraigned. Over, are clustered curls, of hue unnamed, — But sometimes in autumnal woods have flamed Such subtle stains, — more like, if they were set In the gay front of spring-tide's coronet I For yet his youth is budding into leaf And knows no shiver of autumnal grief. Beneath and under the long narrow nose With nervously dilated nostril, grows The warrant-badge of manhood, hiding not The lips close-cornered, mobile, polyglot ! For written on the upper are the words ( Jw venirwm, so to speak) that should be swords' Of honour bright and truth inviolate ; And on the nether those of love and hate. Hate for love's sake, love not determinate. Still underneath (we keep descending, yet We never come to hell !) a chin is set. No bragging bulwark of defiant brass Such as your handsome stolid athlete has, No, but a chin that fits the month's intent With outline bold, but not impertinent. And all the face, with lean, not hollow cheeks, Of sympathy, endurance, passion, speaks ; u 2 292 ciBCE. And with Bmall ears most aptly placed, is crowned With large majestic head, not long nor round, Not flat nor conical, but all and none ; Just such a head as, when a prize is won, . "Would be more suited by a wreath of bay Than if the judge a crown of gold should lay Upon its ample temples. TJnder all Like dais-throne or Parian pedestal, But with a gracious curve, the neck doth rear, Like Atlas holding up the balanced sphere. Based on the shoulders' wide and lofty frame Whose iron sinews gentle manners tame. So that the fingers, warm and white are such As women have, when pity tempers touch. Tab. Really you 're eloquent and almost moral. Save that if matched the heart and tongue would quarrel. But is he amorous ? A man to trick ? CiE. Luscious and most delicious ; ripe to pick ! Tar. {aside). That 's somewhat fleshly ! Were that told to fame. The world of lechery would bellow " Shame ! " CiE. Well, don't you think to gather such a man 'I'm justified in doing all I can ? Tab. Grather ! ay, root and all ! you mean pluck up ! I think you are ; the liquor's worth the cup I But tell me where he sojourns and what wile You meditate to bring him to your Isle. CiB. I saw him first in Grxeece a week ago ; He '11 sail for Spaiu, if favouring breezes blow, In four more days ; and as for any plan, I have none, — save of thinking of the man ! Tab. Thinking's no use. (J. pause.) Yon said you were a flame CIRCE. 293 Of Neptune once, before he made his dame That saucy Gralatea, whose lobster eyes Of course cajoled him ; now this enterprise Can be accomplished thus, — to Neptune go. Pray that a tempest from the North may blow Upon the seventh day that dates from this (When Venus' planet first apparent is, — Good omen that !) ; Amaibas' ship will be Nearest the island then and on the lee. So that he must be cast upon this shore ; If this succeed, you will not ask me more. For by your arts you then can rescue him, — The rest may take their chance, to drown or swim CiR. If thou hast sulphur in thy lungs, 'tis plain That thou hast phosphor in thy nimble brain. This is a chance, but yet of adverse odds, For I've no hearty friends among the gods. I must consider; — then this afternoon If all be well, I'll sue him for the boon. Meanwhile go bid my waiting spirits dress. Their court-suits don, and be in readiness. (Exeunt.) Scene 3. — The Bealms of Neptune. Mermaids-in-Waiting. Fish Ushers, Sea Bogies, Sfc. Neptune amd G-alatba seated on thrones made of huge conehs, with curtains of seaweed. Time: May 6; afternoon. Enter a Herald Cod. Hee. Cod. Make way, make way ! The Lady Circe comes. Make way ! Nep. (aside). Darkness for light and light for dark make way ! Heart black as night and face as fair as day ! 294 CIRCE. Enter Ciece, toith retinue, conducted by SiK John Doey. (To ClECB.) What is yonr will, fair Lady of tte Isle ? GiE. My will, my liege, is votive of your smile. Gal. Rather, methinks, yottr smiles command his will. Nep. (aside) So jealousy is entertaining still ! (To Ciece.) To win yonr smile, fair lady, I would learn By what concession I can serve your turn. CiB. Concede me then a tempest. Gal. Tempest ? No ! Nep. a tempest is a grave and dreadful thing, Not lightly to be wakened out of coarse, Lest the recurring seasons cease to warn, And shipwrecks be in summer-solstice days. CiE. My Uege, I do not want a storm too great, Only an extra breeze, quite moderate. Nep. I think I have a claim to know its use. Gal. (aside) I would it were to swallow up her Isle ! CiE. Alas ! and you'll refuse if I refuse ? Gal. (aside) Refusal in that month importeth guile. Nep. I fear this cannot be. OiE. (aside, to SiE John Doey) Should I inform This company of records that I hold Of tempests raised for murderous robbery Of merchants' ventured cargoes, staked to fate, Of happy husbands' jewels homeward bound, Of thrifty sailors' earnings in the wars, And lovers' marriage capital, I wot This element with anger would grow hot ! (Sir J. DoET starts, then steps forward and confers with Neptune.) CIRCE. 296 Nep. (to Ciece) I grant you your request, {Aside) A woman's tongue Breeds mischief swift as mutton overliung ! (To Ciece) Whence is this storm to be ? CiE. Just as much wind to make a ship as wild An.d nnpersuaded as a peevish child I pray you cause to whistle from the North. Nep. That is a blast once loosed is full of wrath. When, is this storm to be ? CiE. When Venus' star next climbs from ocean's rim. Nep. It shall be done. CiE. To grant my blameless whim Is like a monarch and a noble one. Circe has gratitude. (Exit, with retinue.') Gal. " It shaU be done " ! Of course " it shall be done " ! 'Tis done, perforce ! I think you'd dine on cod and oyster sauce, Munching your subjects, if that jaunty jade Should prick you to it. Oh, the eyes she made ! You know she has no object in her mind Of charity, then wherefore be so kiad ? (JBxit.) Nep. Sir John, dismiss these people : we must rest. To the mind's smarts the body doth attest. (JExeunt.) 296 ciKCE. Act II. Scene 1. — A wood near Bhegissa in Greece; Amaibas standing on the borders of it, loohimg over a valley Time : May 10 ; nearly midnight ; fvll moon. (Amaibas soliloquizes.') To-morrow still delays : tke sluggish sim Still loiters on the journey he must run, Dallying with the dullards who depend Head downward from the spheral nether-end ; I'm sure they're dullards, — ^there's no lover there. (A poMse.) Ay, hut 'tis strange how every man would swear, Could vanity be questioned, that he stands At summit of the earth ; that other lands • Axe as the basis of a pyramid. But these two feet that his two feet have hid The acme, apex, cone, and polar top ! He moves, and wonders that the earth don't stop ! (ffe walks on.) I should be happy, fit for any frolic. Not like a scouted lover, melancholic. But when a tardy joy has made heart ache. When it draws near, for every vengeance' sake TJnfathomed fear forebodes misfortunes sad. I no presentiments of ill have had Till now when I upon joy's threshold stand, Expecting sunrise on the gloomy land Of hope deferred ; but monitors of woes Flock to me now, ,as they were carrion-crows And joy a carcase ! For a joy there is That steady gleams through shadowy miseries ; CIRCE. 297 I think a double joy, — the simple sweet Of knowing it is possible to meet, The subtler sweet (unknown to female lover) That time's temptations now are nearly over ; For let what will be prated, this is sure, Time is a foe to all that would endure, Even to love ; but purity so pure Belongs to women that there is no flaw Upon their love where time can fix his claw. , (_A 'pamse.) And yet this phantom evil steals my peace. Ai. ! would it were the prime of this old Grreece, When gods appeared in presence corporal, And powers of Love and Hate were nigh to call ! Then from Olympus drawn by heart devout A messenger would come to deal with doubt And speak to me of Spain and my dear maid I Pau appears svddenly. What shade is this ? Love makes not men afraid. Speak ? Art thou devil or divinity ? Pan. Question thyself, for thou wilt not deny If heart be pure no devil dare be nigh. I come to counsel thee and " deal with doubt " ; Thine be the loss if thpu the counsel scout. Fear but thyself : all other fear is vain Of flame or fever, calm or hurricane. I can preserve thee if thou wilt obey. Fear but thyself : ill comes no other way. — Midnight has passed ; Amaibas, thou to-day Wilt sail for Spain, and Chlora waits thee there, Yet in thy heart unreasonable care Smarts like a fly-bite ; true, though seasonless ; For on thy track most surely perils press. 298 ciKCE. Am. My modem eyes will scarce believe my heart, But it informs me thou no mortal art. Thou knowest her who makes and mars my peace j I thought none knew her, in or out of Grreece. Sleep makes men walk and talk within their brains. But me thy aspect spiritual constrains To sure belief that no untutored dream Plays gambols in my forehead ; thee I deem To be true messenger to me of good, And thou I think hast met me in the wood Because I've striven from off my soul to toss Superincumbent weights of human dross, That with her nature's true environment She might devolope, till with powers unpent She could appreciate the ether rare That feeds immortal lungs with potent air And through the lantern of the flesh perceive Glories that they behold who first Believe. Therefore I ask thy counsel, unashamed. Though child or fool by men I should be named ; Like maggot in cocoon, his soul lies dead Who cannot tell ambrosia from bread. Pan. At mom thou sailest, and the following day Is by thy almanacs the twelfth in May ; Upon the twelfth and at the hov/r of noon (As thou dost hope to see thy Ghlora soon) 8inh a torpedo fa/r into the deep. Where Shakespea/re's pearl-eyed seamen lie asleep ; Explode it there ; and though this thing appears Unable to affect thy future years, Cr^ Mememher how the King to Jordan went. y / ~^ I *«y obey, for sake of thy content. (j4 change seems to take place in Pan. Amaibas advances towards him, but finds only a stunted oak-tree.) ciEOB. 299 Am. Was it a dream ? Nay, children of the brain Talk not of Shakespeare and of Naaman, Of monthly days and instruments of war : I here avow that, as my heart is pure And therefore as thou wert a holy thing, Although this deed seems insignificant I ■will perform it ; for we cannot tell But little paths may lead to heaven or hell. Enter Cloanthus. Clo. Amaibas ! I have followed you afar; Incomprehensible and wandering star ! Why are you mooning here, or planet-conning ? Tout sprightliest habit you must soon be donning, >r ,. Both of the mind, the countenance, on flesh ; 1/ . i-W*^ The countenance must put on laughter fresh, The mind must clothe itself with happy thought. The flesh with robes in which a man may court ! But if you stain your face with senseless sorrow How will you set out gaily on the morrow. Am. I've seen queer things. Clo. Tou look quite skeery, friend. But men who range about at night, like bats Or maniac hyenas, may behold Their visage in a miU-pond and go home Thinking they 've seen a vision, not a visage. (Amaibas shakes his head.) But come away ; cool winds of morn arise. The moon grows dull, the winking planet dies ; Dim visages appear, dim visions vanish ; Let us exchange these Grecian vales for Spanish. (JExeimt.) 300 CIRCE. Scene 2. — Gvrce's Island. The palace. Cieoe seated. Time : May 11 ; early morrmig. Enter Takge, hurriedly. Tab. Hi ! ho ! Oh, dear ! Oh, lack-a-daisy ! By the toe-nail of Pluto, I'm out of breath ! Oh, straddle-bugs and limpets ! (Pants.') Pan has got wind of yonr design. I only wish I'd wind of any sort ! (Pojrfs.) This shows that yonr designs are full of wind, and may collapse, like bladders sat upon by the clown in the panto- mime. But haste is like a woman's tongue — it wearies out the lungs. (JPamis.) CiE. What is amiss ? Tab. Pan and Amaibas met in a wood. I keeping watch upon Amaibas, as you bade me, was near them ; thence I haye hurried like a shorthand- writer to report their speech. Amaibas is to explode an abomi-gusting torpedo. CiB. What jargon have we here ? Tab. Half-breath must speak half-words. An abomin- able and disgusting torpedo, if you must have the whole mouthful. It is all one, as the chopped worm said when he joined himself together again. But, in all brevity, Pan has concocted a scheme to frustrate you. CiE. Then we must counter-coct a scheme. Tab. Heyday ! Why now you speak short-tongue. CiB. Relate the speech Between Amaibas and this meddling god. Tab. The pith of it I will. IJan knows the pledge, CIKCE. 301 The public pledge, that Neptune made to yon, Most stand unshaken on a monarch's word, Unless by some unwonted accident. Moreover gods recall not promises. To baulk you then of shipwreck and Amaibas (Who raves and cries to heaven to bear him safe) He to the youth appears within the wood That skirts Bhegissa, as he walks alone, Raving and praying in deserted glades. So he commands him, on a certain day And certain hour, deep in the ocean's womb This ruin-wrapping engine to explode ; And this Amaibas, over-credulous. Makes oath to do. The consequence is plain. " The Siren," on the day and hour agreed. Will be exactly over Neptune's gates. And if his palace-pinnacles could grow They'd pierce her keel, as swordfish pierce a whale. This Pan's Olympian foresight has divined. And I have guessed. So then upon that day Down comes this lump of rare combustibles Right over Neptune's head. Now he of late Has suffered from much shaking of the nerves ; That Suez short-cut was a cruel blow. Subverting all his ancient rights of way ; And there can be no question when this crash Comes plump upon him, like a thunderbolt. He must faU ill, go mad, or run away ; Then where's your storm ? Why, Uke a poet's dinner, 'Twin be forgotten. Where's your lover then ? Why, like a poet's senses, far away ! _ CiE. Is there no remedy ? Tae. No sovereign cure ; But one quack med'cine that we can but try. 302 cnicB. CiE. What is it? Quick! Tar. Yes, quick as mercury ; Quick-silver med'cines should be silver-quick. Easy is my prescription : — take a berth Aboard his ship ; it sails two hours Jrom this ; Thither convey yourself and hire a cabin ; To-morrow, when, the destined hour is near You as a lovely maid on deck aj)pea/r ; So lovely that torpedoes in the ocean Become at once a quite exploded notion. CiB. Here is a change ! Most women are much set On making men remember, not forget ! Was it to-morrow Pan arranged ? So soon ? Tae. To-morrow, yes, and at the hour of noon. OiB. Come let us haste before next quarter chime. For half the battle of a battle 's time. (^Exeunt. ") Scene 3. — Beck of " The Siren." A beautiful girl (Circe), seated, reading. AnkiBAS placing vp and down. Time: May 12 ; 11 a.m. Amaibas (midtering) A lovely face ! A passing lovely face ! ^Tums.) Nay, said I face ? But what a lovely form ! As delicately moulded as a kernel ! (Turns.} Nay, said I form ? But what a look is there. " Expression " people call it ; 'tis a spirit. (Turns.) Then there is that which no expression has Nor form nor changefulness, — the splendid hair ! CIRCE. 303 (The girl drops her book. Amaibas presents it to her.) OiRL. I tliank you, sir. Am. a lovely voice ! She is completely lovely. <3-iEL. I think I saw you once before. Am. Indeed ? I saw not yoa ; I conld not have forgotten. G-iRL. Yes, I was riding in the Row called Rotten ! Am. In London ? Yes ? — And think you ocean's crest Or Rotten Row for riding is the best ? GiEL. I think I like both roadways well enough. But in the fashion-world men talk such stuff ; We 're peacocks there (though gender of his mate) And men are parrots, pretty things to prate ; La Fontaine says the peacock prayed that he Might have a softer voice ; not so do we ; For in society each woman prays That she may noise occasion all her days ! But on the ocean other things we find ; There false restraint is " whistled down the wind." Am. It is not often that a woman's wit Will so precisely fashion's folly hit. (Be sits beside her.) GiEL. Nay, now you flatter. Am. Not a whit, I swear. I must admire, if speech or shape be fair. Cloanthus (below, singing) 'Tis sweet to fly with sails unfurled When Easfc-winds curl the billows' crest ! Then who so happy in the world As he whose love is in the West ? (Amaibas starts violently and rises. A bell rings.) Am. {shouting). Call up all hands ! Bo'sun, sound your 304 CIRCE. whistle ; pipe up all hands ! Come, look alive ! Run, you young rope-skipper, send hither the Mate. Lay to ! Lay to ! (^Ala/rti/m. Bustle. The ship is brought to.) Enter the Mate, the Caepentee, Passbngbes, cmd Sailors. Mate. I wait your orders. Am. Out with the long-boat then. Bestir, bestir ! Think I am Time, and wait for no man, sir. Enter Cloanthus. Clo. Stay, Gapbaia. What's amiss? The ship is in alarm. The passengers are on their knees in the cabins, and the Chaplain is reading the Funeral Service. He says Dissenters arid Churchmen will aU be buried together "now ! In a word, general panic has overbalanced sense. Am. (shouting')^ All ready there ? Sailoes. Ay, ay. Am. Lower in the big torpedo then. Steady ! Sailoes. Yo heave ho ! Old. Well, if you're going to blow us all up then prayer is opportune. Am. Go down, my Clo, and herald my intent To make a submarine experiment ; Beseech the passengers no more to tremble, But all to see the sight on deck assemble. (^Exit CLOASTHns; the girl screa/ms amd famts.) Am; Fve frightened her, alas ! I'll go to her. Nay, I CIKCE. 305 vowed. She has fainted ! Nay, I vowed. And time is very urgent. Now they call. (Be gets into the hoot, which is rowed away. The girl is carried below.) Enter Cloanthus. Clo. (to Passengers) We're in the foremost row of the theatre. 1st Pass. They say that row's too near. 2nd Pass. I hope 'tis not ! Clo. How qnick they are ! He hurries them I think. 1st Pass. Saw you the frightened lady ? Clo. I beheld The fairest face I ever saw in life. 1st Pass. No dead face could be fairer. Clo. I dissent. 2nd Pass. I saw her not, so cannot be her lover.' 1st Pass. Who is her lover ? Lovers may dissemble. 2nd Pass. If lovers are discreet. 1st Pass. Who's indiscreet ? Clo. Ye grow too warm. See yonder new commotion. 2nd Pass. They've sunk it now and putting boat about. (Passengers converse. Boat rows hack.) Clo. (seizes a speaking -trwnvpet and shouts.) Amaibas, let the ship sheer off a bit. Too near, I say ; you'll blow the bottom out. (Amaibas touches the exploding instrument as the bell strikes for twelve o'clock. Explosion. The ship rocks violently, and is covered with water.) 306 CIRCE. Am. (coming on deck ; to tlie Caepentee) Examine if there be a leak below. (Exit Caepentee.) Clo. 'Twas wonderful ! A pyramid of sea ! The deep piled up in towers of fluid stone As when God's chosen trod the 'Red Sea coral. 1st Pass. The tale was very fine, but what's the moral ? This briefly, that we've been in deadly danger. 2ifD Pass. — The steadiest man ! — Could anything fa-C stranger ? Clo. And I'm in danger now of catching cold; I'll go below. (Exit.) Be-enter Caepentee. Caep. (to Am.) No water in the hold Nor leakage in the vessel can be found. (Exit.) 2nd Pass, (aside) I hope our Captain's intellect's as sound.] 1st Pass. I would advise a general change of garment ; I'm like a certain drowned proverbial varmint ! (Exeunt 1st and 2nd Passengees.) Am. (vmttering) Ah! cursed, silly, false, and fractious heart, How little Chlora knoweth what thou art ! I never saw a woman quite so fair ; Bat did I not to purest Chlora swear ? A telegraphic tremour of delight Was flashed from brain to heart ; the clerk was sight ! But when that song assailed my ears, I knew My heart to truth's pure music was untrue. (Scene closes.) CIECB. 307 ACT III. Scene 1. — A glade in the forest near Bhegissa. Pan seated on a throne formed of the bole of a tree, ornamented mith shins and flowers. Nymphs and Satyrs dancing before hvm, with pi/pes and other instrmnents of music. Time : May 13 ; early morning. Enter. 'N^PTXTS'E and Galatea. Pan. Ah, ha ! my pickled herrings, how do'ye do ? (Neptune grooms.^ Galatea. He's very bad ; and as to pickled herrings, They've salt in their inside, and salt is wholesome ; He has no wholesomeness inside at all. Pan. What is it ? Rheumatism in the muscles ? He has so many too, it must be dreadful ; for I saw 'em down on the beech the other day,, with a lot of cockles, and an old woman eating 'em with a pin. Has he tried Cockle's piUs? (Neptdne groans.) He groans like bag-pipes, ay, and msty pipes ! Nbp. You'd groan, I tell you, if you had the gripes ! Gal. I've something to propose to you, — a plan. Pan. (aside) Women have always something to propose ; And generally marriage. (To Gal.) Pray proceed. Gal. Our sturgeon says that Nep. wants change of air. Pan. Nay, surely change of water ! Gal. Change of air. 808 CIECE. Pan. Don't yon mean swrgeon ? Gal. Sturgeon ; what I said : 'Tis the way ordered by our Spelling Bee ! Pan. (aside) Women with everything must have their tea ! (To Gal.) Do you find sturgeons really know their trade, Don't cut off legs to try a patent blade, Repulses feel as well as pulses feel, Eefrain from making dogs and rabbits squeal, Don't send you pills to right what pills made wrong. Don't send you bills for looking at your tongue ? Because if so, next time I feel unwell My summoned surgeon with a t I'll spell. Gal. Sturgeons were always doctors in the ocean. Pan. For doctor has your Bee a special notion ? Gal. No, that we spell the same as other men. Pan. But thus 'tis written by the Upper Ten, — P-h-y, s-i-c, and i-a>n ! Gal. That's hke a man spelt Oxford in our Bee, — A-u-c, k-s-p, and h-u-t ! Pan. Then some pronounce it medical adviser ! Gal. 'Tis time the language had a good reviser ! But to return : poor Neptune had a shock Enough to decompose a granite rock ; For as he sat alone to ruminate Important things — his dinner or the State — The garden grotto where he mused went crack ! The very garments split upon his back ! We found hiTn lying like a jelly-fish. All poppy, limp, and ready to go squish ; With piscine shoals around him blown to bits And one big mack'rel frightened into fits. His favourite seaweed-fems were torn to rags ; Nothing proved standard save the marble flags ! CIRCE. 309 They tell me a torpedo was the cause, The devil's latest help to bloody wars. Now Neptune's liver's torpid, and no wonder, — The natural sequence of that kind of thunder. The sturgeon says the thing to do him good Is " thorough change " of atmosphere and food. I make proposal then that he and you Exchange your kingdoms for a month or two ; You take his trident ; Pan is loved by all ; While Neptune for the nonce turns pastoral. Pan. 'Tis settled ; say no more ; at once I start. (To Attendant.) My household bid be ready to depart. (_Aside.') So Circe now, in spite of spell and charm. May whistle like a skipper in a calm. (To Gal.) Some things, before I go, attention need. Therefore farewell to you and invalid. Gal. PareweU, kind sir. (Exit Pan ivith Nyrwphs and Satyrs.) (To Nbp.) And as to you my jewel. You'd better ^o to bed and have some gruel ! (Exeunt.) Scene 2. — Chloea's apartment in her father's house at Borium in Spain. Time : some days later. Chloea and Flobita discovered, seated. Chl. Florita, bring that braid, — that plaited braid. This work is long in doing, I'm afraid. 310 CIRCE. Flo. (sings.) Ah ! things are long in doing When love is long a-coming, And men are long in wooing When they have gone a-roaming. Chl. Hnsh, child ! That's reasonless and rhymeless too. AH things are both that are to joy untrue. (Apavise.) Flo. You've nearly done the cloak. Chi. And so I ought ; For he has promised to be here to-night. 'Tis like the needlework that Elaine wrought, I' the Chronicle of Malory the Knight. It seems to me as if 'twere stitched throughout With threads unwound from Time's corroded reel. Revolving stiffly, like an unoiled wheel. Methinks 'tis sewn with minutes, hemmed with hours, The frills are days, and months the broidered flowers ! Flo. The seasons garments ma]s:e and unmake lovers. Chl. Tout, cry is melancholy as the plover's. Flo. You know not men, and therefore not Amaibas. Chl. I know not wherefore that should make me cry, lass. Fl,o. Nay, cry not, certainly ; but hark to reason. Chl. Gtood subjects list to sense, but not to treason. Flo. I talk because the tongue makes time to vanish. Chl. Now let me talk, your bitter mood to banish. Flo. Describe me, then, your monarch to the letter. Chl. To-night you'll see him ; surely that is better. Flo. Your words may show him better than my eyes. Chl. To overstate' would make you underprize ; So that I shall avoid ; but I forgot You had not seen him. 'Tis as well you've not. CIECE. 311 For if you had, your merry impudence No more my sadness wonld have hurried hence j Because to see him is to feel an awe That boweth to the majesty of law ; Tor law, more noble than the codes of States (The law a man to SeH enunciates. And with no sanction save the lash of shame Keeps without quibble, though it bring him blame,) Preserves in him a sway both stem and mild ; And yet in many matters he's a child ; Most unsuspecting, honest foolishly (So comrades say), most quick to see a lie And stamp unflinching on its adder-head. He is consistent, till consistency By conscience-truth refuses to be led, Then proves (like Burdett) braving wit and curser. Virtue 's consistency, not vice versa. Gentle his manner is to rich and poor. And he converses as the jealous Moor To Desdemona and her jealous sire. Of hazards run by water, air, and fire ; C A Such tales, as strange as were Shcherazade's, ^ ' He teUs when he's commanded by the ladies ; But eloquent and argumentative When noble and ignoble seem to strive He speaks his mind and compliment disdains — By many thought a puppy for his pains. Fto. (wierruptmg) Here's no description. Paint him, heel to pate I Has he no looks, that you're so delicate ? Chl. His face reveals his nature, and his form His vigorous manhood, nursed in strife and storm. Flo. Has he no vices (since you won't describe) ? Chl. All men at school some vicionsness imbibe ; He did so ; but he knows it and he fights, So like his ship when struck by squalls, he rights. 312 CIRCE. Efiier Amaibas behind, so thai Floeita can see him, hut not Chloka. Me heokons to Floeita to be silent. Flo. (aside) No wonder questions of his beauty floor her ! I really think he's almost fit for Chlora ! Am. (sings softly) Out of the East, with wind and wave, Like sea-gull flying to her nest, With wing as sure and heart as hrave. My ship has reached the happy "West ! (Chloea tii/ms cmd ruMs into Amaibas' arms.) Chl, I knew your voice, and yet 'twas like a spirit's. (Exit Floeita.) Come to my father. He this joy inherits. The gladness, after me, is his to-day, That back to Chlora you have won your way. (Exeunt). 313 NOTES. Page 1. — " Swnddling -clothes " ■ qnoted from a critic's letter. " Bowr, soar, young poet," etc. This poem is by the Rev. E. D. Stone, of Eton College. Page 9. — The pieces under the heading of Greek Mythology, called The Infancy of Perseus, His Journey, The Three Gray Sisters, The Sirens, Theseus and Bules, are echoes (so to speak) of passages in " The Heroes " of Kingsley. The first two of the above pieces, as also The Revenge of Perseus, and Tithonus, appeared first in the Eton Mag- azine called "The Adventurer" (since defunct: see note to p. 273) in 1868-70, and since then have undergone only a few alterations. Page 14. — A moss. An expression used by Kingsley in " The Heroes," p. 27. Page 21. — Berakles cmd Hulas appeared in the " St. James's Maga- zine " for September 1876. With pwrsley pale, etc. From a translation of Moschus, Id. iii. 104, by Leigh Hunt, in " A Jar of Honey from Mount Hybla." Page 22. — Not now his breast that wonted laugh, etc. The idea is taken from a passage in " Balaustion's Adventure," by Robert Browning. Page 37. — D'Amague. The story is told in a few words in " Ghandos," by Guida. Page 41. — St. John m Fatmos .- I have ventured to take as a model for this picture the descent of Sir Bedivere to the Lake in "The Passing of Arthur," Idylls of the King. Watre is used there, as in " Morte D'Arthur." Pao'e 43. — The Maid of Astolat : This part of her story is told in " Morte D'Arthur," ch. 20, bk. 18, where also the verb to wajp will be found. Page 45. — Aslauga's Knight may be called an echo from Fouquet. Page 47. — Ameinocleia : This piece was suggested by a description of the carved tombstone of a Greek girl called Ameinocleia in an article in one of the leading magazines. Page 51. — Sister Ellen, etc. Some expressions in this piece are from Tennyson's "Looksley Hall." Page 52. — " Sweet is 1/rue love." Song in Tennyson's " Elaine " (Idylls of the King). Page 58. — Epithalamium. This piece appeared in the " Eton Adven- turer." (See note to p. 273.) Page 64. — Where runs the Chine, The Chine at Bournemouth. Pao-e 72. — IVie Tin-k's-ca/p lily. The liUnm margonum. Thi.s lily is said to bear on its leaves the Greek word A I. 314 NOTES. Page 80. — The halls of death. "The vasty halls of death;" poem by Mat. Arnold. Page 81. — In memoriam of the Bev. T. F. Stocks. Written in the Isle of Wight. Page 91. — And the feeUng of hand m hamd. The idea is from a line in Tennyson's "Vision of Sin." Page 103. — VoUve tablets. Horace, Car. 1. 5. " The hollow of Ood's hand." Isaiah, xl. 12. Page 112. — Sweeter than love, etc. After the manner of " Tears, idle tears." Page 123. — The fames' glove : that is, the fox-glove, which is a cor- ruption of the folk's (fairies') glove. Page 133. — Star-wort. Stellaria (stitch -wort). Page 142. — Tongs. Isaiah, 44. 12. Page 146. — Edm's tower.' The " tower of the flock," near which the shepherds are said to have been watching when they saw the star in the East. Page 178. — Bag-wort. Senecio jacobsea. This flower is likened, some lines farther on, to asphodel, as I have been told there is a strong resemblance. Page 181. — It comes from the Oreat diver. See song in the " Spanish Gypsy," by George Eliot. Page 185. — " Clear and cool." Song in Kingsley's " Water-Babies." Page 192. — The Sam/phvre-Gatherer. The incident is true, and happened near Sandown, Isle of Wight, in 1874. Page 194. — Peace ! Written in the Isle of Wight. Of whom the poet tells. That is, Wordsworth. Page 195. — Ben Bhraggie. I am not sure of the spelling, but the situation is supposed to be Brora, near Golspie, in Suther- land, where is a hill thus called, and whence Dunrobin Castle is to be seen. Page 204. — Bglatere : the word is used in " A Dirge," to be fomid among Poems by Tennyson (1864) . Page 218. — " Oh 'twas a ra/re enchantment," etc. From Keats' " St. Agnes' Eve," after the style of which all the poem is written. Page 229. — Oussage : more correctly Gnssage St. Michael, is a parish of Dorsetshire, lying between the New Forest and Cran- bome Chase, 5^ miles from Cranbome. Downs like those of Salisbury plain (which is not far away) stretch round the village, and from them the country can be seen. The Hydes were once farmers in the parish, the title of Clarendon being taken from a park of that name near Salisbury, where was once a palace, and where the famous Constitutions were drawn up. .leffreys hung 74 persons in Dorsetshire, among whom were the two young Hewlings who were buried at Lyme Begis, the place where Monmouth had landed. Macaulay's History of England (Bk. 1. ch. 5,) con- tains the account from which most of the information is borrowed. Page 231. — Ere that " dim diarlem " had gone : " Nature and law by thy divine decree (The only root of righteous royalty) With this dim diadem invested me." Lines by Charles 1, preserved by Bishop Burnet in his " Memoirs of the Dukes of Hamilton." NOTES. 315 Page 232. — Fresh from the fatal Field : Sedgemoor. Filthy sprite: Ferguson. Macaulay, Bk. I. p. 587 and 653. Page 233. — Scarce pva-ified, etc. Macaulay, Bk. I. 640. Titillate ; Macaulay, Bk. i. 4AS. Page 237. — Nigritia's plain. Nigritia is another name for that part of Africa better known as Soudan, in which locusts are particularly numerous. Page 23V. — Though only now the rosemary, etc. The rosemary buds in January, and is the flower commonly put into coffins. 'Twas thus the Black Plamta,genet, etc. " It is said that the crest of the King of Bohemia was three feathers, and his motto ' Ich dien,' which the Prince of Wales and his successors adopted in memorial of this great victory." (i.e. Crecy .) — Svmie. "The prisoner was mounted on a white steed. The conqueror rode by his side carried on a black palfrey." — (Account of the Black Prince passing through London with John of France, May 24th, 1357.) — Hwme. Page 238. — Like the sea-pyra/mid, ; " Thou craggy ocean-pyramid," Sonnet to Ailsa Craig, by Keats. Of that old race, etc. The allusion is here to St. Edmund, slain by the Danes, when they invaded England. Above him hangs the bell, etc. The great beU in the southern turret of St. Paul's is only tolled when a member of the Eoyal Family dies. Page 239. — Great a/rchitect of Knoyle : Sir Christopher Wren was born at Knoyle in Wiltshire ; it it well known how he was hampered in building St. Paul's by the wishes of the Hng and clergy. The heathen poefs bitter wail : Moschua, IdyU 13. 104. Page 240. — The images of vanished things ; " The sudden images of vanished things That o'er the spirit flash we know not why.'' — Mrs. Hemans. Page 241. — Vich Alpine's crew. Lady of the Lake, canto 6 — 9. Page 245. — The Bv/rnmg of Chicago. The commencement of the City with a hat is not imaginary. Much of the description of the Fire in this piece is taken from an account of an eye- witness, published in America at the time. Page 262. — Vox Humama : appeared in the Eton " Adventurer." (See note to p. 273.) Page 263. — " The fume of sighs " : Romeo and Juliet, Act I. So. 1. Page 273. — A Farewell to "The Admentwreir." These verses are strictly Etonian. They were written for the last number which was pub- lished of a Magazine called " The Adventurer," conducted by Eton boys for several years, and at last given up for want of funds. They were written when the author was an under- graduate at Cambridge, which accounts for the second verse. One or two words demand explanation for the sake of those rmacquainted with Eton ways. " Williams " is the bookseller, stationer, etc., at Eton : " Webber," one of the sock-shops, that is, pastry-cooks : "Digamma," "C. C. T." and so on, were noms de plwme or initials of writers in the Magazine: " wet-bobbing" is rom?i 3 : "sappy" (said to be derived from sapiens — what a satire !) is the word applied 316 NOTES. in derision to some solitary boys who do their duty and learn their lessons : " dry-bobs " are cricketers. I fear that the verses are hardly worth the explanation, but perhaps they may interest some Etonians. Page 275. — " His clea/r cold engine .- " Lord Derby spoke words to this effect in a speech delivered a year or so ago, to describe a well regulated mind. Page 277. — Wherein the " grand old masters " stand : quoted fronj Longfellow's poem, " The day is done." Page 279. — " Confessions." Written for a " Confession Book." Page 280. — Lest not content with two .- that is, Christian names and surnames. Page 283. — Nappo : was a splendid English tabby cat. He had a collar inscribed, " Micat inter omnes ! " Page 290. — She started like Ulysses, etc. Be it known to the unin- formed that Ulysses and his followers were oast on to the Island of Circe, whereupon she changed them into animals. Page 291. — Under large eyebrows, etc. The organs of the perceptive faculties are placed above and between the eyebrows. Nervously dilated : a sign of an eager temperament, as in a high-bred horse. Nervous, rather in the Miltonic sense, of a healthy, not an unhealthy condition. Page 293. — Suiph/wr, — phosphor: sulphur, the traditional accompani- ment of devils; phosphorus, the medical aliment of the brain. Page 298. — Shaltespeare' s pea/rl-eyed seamen .- the Tempest, Act I. Scene 2. Page 302. — Qaick-silver med'cvnes : a supposed derivation of quack (qiMck doctors, etc.) is quick (silver), on account of the use of this drug by irregular practitioners. Page 306. — The Bed Sea coral : the Eed Sea is paved with coral j hence perhaps the name. Page 308. — Stwrgeons were aVwwys doctors m the ocean .• it has been supposed that the medicinal properties of the sturgeon are so powerful as to cure fish of diseases by mere contact. Page 309. — The devil's latest help .- if anyone objects to the mention of the devil by Galatea as incongruous, let the devil be con- sidered for the occasion a new divinity, lately created. Page 310. — The needleworlc that Blaine wrought: that is, the cover for Sir Launcelot's shield, " Morte d' Arthur," Bk. xvm. Oh. 41. But the conjecture that she worked it is Mr. Tennyson's.