m& i^^^^^^^^i'^#iSK*%^te*^^4^f*^i!*^-« i»;.,i.- A'lUiri iMm PR5473.SmT3'''''''™"'''-'''"'^ The Thames; a poem. 3 1924 013 553 213 ihln THE THAMES. A POEM. JOHN STAPLETON. LONDON : C. KEGAN PAUL & CO., I, Paternoster Square. 1878. ^.\\^':L%\ EXTRACT FROM MACAULAY'S JOURNAL. " I walked yesterday to Hampton Court, along the Middlesex bank of the Thames, and lounged among the avenues ajid flower-beds about an hour. I wonder that no poet has thought of writing a descriptive poem on the Thames. Particular spots have been celebrated ; but surely there is no finer subject of the sort than the whole course of the river from Oxford ^downwards^ — the noble University, Clifden, Windsor, Chertsey the retreat of Cowley, St. Anne's Hill the retreat of Fox ; Hampton Court, with all the recollections of Wolsey, Cromwell, WiUiam and Mary, Belinda's hair, the Cartoons, the Beauties ; then Strawberry Hill, then Twickenham and Pope's Grotto, then Richmond, and so bn to the great City ; the forests of masts, the Tower, Greenwich Hos- pital, Tilbury Fort, and the Armada. Is there any river in the world, which in so short a space, affords such subjects for poetry ? Not the Tiber, I am sure, nor the Seine." — Trevelyan's "Life.'' The first twelve stanzas of this poem were written about the year 1850. It had been long laid aside and was only resumed after reading Trevelyan's " Life of Macaulay," in 1876. It was finished in 1877. Cornell University Library The original of tliis 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/cu31 92401 355321 3 CONTENTS. Opening ' . . . . . . . ' I The Wolds . . ■ . 4 Oxford 8 Oxford to Henley . . . . 13 Henley. — The Regatta .... 20 Henley to Windsor 23 Windsor 25 Eton 34 Eton to Chertsey 38 Fishing 40 The Villa ... 42 A Suburban Village ... . . 46 MouLSEY Hurst 48 Hampton Court 49 Bushey Park .... 52 Hampton Bridge to Kingston . 53 Kingston 54 Twickenham • 56 VI Contents. PAGE .Richmond 57 Kew Garden 60 Chiswick . 63 Chiswick to Chelsea 64 Chelsea 67 Lambeth 69 The Palace of Westminster 70 Westminster Abbey 75 Saint Margaret's Church .... 85 The Strand 86 The Embankment 88 The Bridges 90 The City of London 93 The Temple 96 St. Paul's 99 St. Paul's Cross 105 The City 108 Old London Bridge . . . . III SOUTHWARK ... ... 114 The Globe Theatre 116 The Monument 119 The Plague ...... 121 The Mint 123 The Tower . , 124 Contents. vu PAGK The Pool 131 The Docks 133 The Isle of Dogs and the River Lea- . 135 Deptford 137 Greenwich 139 Woolwich to Gravesend . . . . 142 Gravesend 144 Tilbury.— The Armada .... 14s Fortifications 146 The Medway ...... 148 Isle of Sheppey. — Sheerness 151 The Nore.— The Mutiny .... 153 Herne Bay and Canterbury . • 156 ■ 158 The Reculvers 160 The Isle of Thanet . 163 Coast of Essex. — Southend . 166 The Estuary . 168 The Open Sea • 177 THE THAMES. tenham. OPENING. O Father Thames, forgive this halting rhyme In which I try to chronicle thy life, Since first it wells to daylight and to time. Until it yields to death, absorbed in ocean's strife. It was by chance my wandering footsteps came Alongst the fount from which thy waters spring, NearChel- And, all unconscious, then I laid the frame Of thy life's story, which I now unworthy sing. No rugged aspect frowns upon thy birth. In gentle slopes the neighbouring hillocks rise ; Sweet-scented flowers conceal parturient earth, And o'er her coy retreat the gentlest plumage flies. Thus does thy birth thy destiny presage, — With fruitful fields to bless the toil-worn swain. To wean the scholar from a serious page, London to bathe, and bear her commerce to the main. B The Thames. Beyond that hill though Severn rolls along His mighty flood to the Atlantic wave, And round him many tributaries throng, Whose limpid waters must his slimy torrent brave ; More noble destinies on thee await ; No other stream shall confiscate thy store ; But some shall come to magnify thy state. Proud if to thy great wealth they add a little more. In seven rills thine infant waters flow, Through seven channels from one common source, Like silver arrows from a lady's bow. Through chastening gravel sped by some recondite force. The lowly cresses greet thee at thy birth. And from thy yet unsullied stream derive The taste whereby they testify thy worth. Whilst on life's threshold yet thy gurgling waters strive. And if a nobler function water hath. As, to the weary, way-worn traveller, To reaUze the fondly-fancied bath. Where his parched palate fain would play the reveller; 'Tis thine, for here thy gipsy handmaids stay, Reaching the bowl to every passer by ; And few there are who turn not from their way. The first fresh drops of thy world-famous stream to try. The Thames. And here perchance, at eve, a weary stag May halt awhile to slake his fervid, thirst ; Whilst hounds and huntsmen far behindhand lag, Whose poor faint speed responds not to the morning's burst. For near this spot an ancient forest lies, , S°'5"'J *^ Berkeley Where Norman Barons once pursued the chase ; Castle. Whose gentle art the modern sportsman plies. Himself the scion of a noble antique race, Who still abide where their forefathers did, Wlien, puissant lords o'erthrowing England's state, Edward, dethroned, was in their castle hid. But could not, even there, avoid relentless fate. THE WOLDS. In vain I strive to follow in thy course, Which twists and twirls and hides amongst the hills, Whence waters flow from many a nameless source, And, babbling to thy bed, lay down their modest rills. The simple shepherd sits upon the downs, His flock at play along the river side ; And oft his fleece the wanton lambkin drowns, As boldly first he breasts the little streamlet's tide. Dear to the swain 'is the passing wanderer's word, For oft he yearns to mingle with his kind, When through the weary day no voice is heard, And thoughts, in circles, dull his solitary mind. King Alfred, wandering in these western wolds. Might think, — when England should approve his sway, That, as from wolves his sheep the shepherd folds, So he from Vikings would his people store away. The Thames. As England was in glorious Alfred's time, Such is she here, but little altered still, Save that the flocks are nearer to their prime, As now their beauty shows alive on every hill. The earliest forms of industry are here, The mill with sails, the water and the wheel ; Those on the knolls^ these in the dells appear, Where, stilled through cosy nooks, the furtive brooklets steal. And farther on rare straggling hamlets line The quaint meandering of the pebbled shore. Where trellised hang the ivy and the vine. And from the hovel's roof the rose is peeping o'er. Though mountain path sprung from the further side. By narrow cleft and round big boulders creeps To where the wolds like female's breasts divide. And through the opening pass a larger village peeps. With perhaps a branch that dips down to the dell. Where, sheltered from the winds and from the sun, In dull content the shepherd's children dwell, Who far to school must trudge, yet homeward roistering run. No bridge is there or boat to ferry o'er. But well-shod peasants step from stone to stone. Nor fail unsoused to reach the other shore. If but the foot they've sure, and keep the vision prone. The Thames. And when the water's warm with summer heat, Barefooted through the young folk gaily wade ; And oft it covers pretty naked feet, Whilst fair round ankles gleam beneath the uplifted braid. The hills recede, a richer plain expands, Where emerald green, with crystal, Thames inlays ; On a half-island here a village stands. At which, i' th' eve to rest, the wandering angler stays. Soon from the plain a little hillock springs, Where deeper now the silent waters flow ; And to its sides the modest borough clings. Mid groves, which o'er the stream their comely shadow throw. Here pleasure boats abound : at anchor some ; AVhilst down stream others in mid current glide. Their crews at rest, save one ; or towards us come. Propelled by oars along the calm and sheltered side. As in a mirror, when the stream is clear, 'Mid sweetest sounds of youthful rustic glee. Whilst boats and oars reversed beneath appear, Quick bending to the stroke themselves the rowers see. Nor distant is the spot where, as the flood, Made rapid by the shelving of its bed. Is for a while not easily withstood. First through a line of locks the laden boats are, sped. The Thames. Long heavy boats, for trader's use designed, There up or down the watery ladder creep, And o'er the sloping ground their way they find. Through stem and stern the while each other's level keep. Below the rapids, by the river's side. From field to field a narrow pathway runs, Whence, to long ropes the heavy barges tied. Dray horses haul along, — men tow the lighter ones. And here perchance a coracle is seen Thames Peep firom a bed where Severn's wave is borne, Canaf^^"^" Such as in days of old has often been. By Britons used, in flights to western wilds, forlorn. For through the wolds a way of water winds. Which to each stream the other's traffic bears, Still as the wave, frost's icy finger binds. Whilst underneath its bed the mountain torrent tears. Here cluster cottages on either side. And o'er the stream a rustic bridge is thrown. For now the river is, though not yet wide. Too deep to paddle through, or step from stone to stone. And through the banks a little rural road, Dips to the ford, through which the lumbering wain Dry o'er the water bears its towering load. And mounted herdsmen urge their lingering kine in vain. OXFOED. Now in the distance airy turrets rise And domes resplendent in the evening gleam, Where on thy bank a famous city lies, And Cherwell bringeth down his tributary stream. 'Tis Oxford, learned, pious, grave, yet gay ; Where England's wealthy church her pastors rears ; Scholars are there who waste youth's fleeting day^ Though others studious seem, and ripe beyond their years. Go back a thousand years, 'tis still the same ; * The student throng, from all their homes around Are tempted thither by her ancient fame. For ancient 'twas e'en then as learning's holy ground. And some there are whose homes are far away. And 'rough the roads they wearily pursue ; Some journeying live on alms, so poor are they, [view. Yet none more blithe than these when Oxford greets their * Alfred the Great is called the second founder of Oxford University. The Thames. As ancient poets often decked the swains, Whose loves they sang, with names from classic page, Thames, gliding through collegiate domains, Is " Isis " for a while to scholar and to sage. Now through the home of learning Isis' flows; His flood diffused in several separate beds ; On many banks the sweetest verdure grows. To many a college grove the freshening moisture spreads. For near these banks successive founders placed Piles, which for learning's votaries they raised ; Some knowledge most, and some religion graced. For still to heaven they bowed as each new truth amazed. Of those who've musing paced long Isis' shore. Some thought on problems, some composed a prayer, Some grave men seemed deep versed in holy lore, Some loved the heathen myths, who Grecian scholars were. The schoolmen here are mostly churchmen too. Who follow science with an equal mind, Must speculation's boldest flights subdue, And no conclusions just against religion find. Here Wolsey's clerks enjoy their college mead (As Druids once the groves beside their fane) Whose slopes to Isis' bank and Cherwell's lead, For good men's leisure kept in Henry's troubled reign. lo The Thames. 'Tis in the times when Henry filled the throne, And Wolsey was his minister of state, We draw the line and place the boundary stone 'Twixt ancient ways of thought and those of modern date. First Rome, her influence shedding from afar, Through all the West one common faith upheld ; But England to herself a guiding star Became, when Luther spoke and Germany rebelled. 'Twas in the earlier time they lived or died, Whose grand foundations round about us rise A group of palaces by I sis' side. Where piety enshrined in holy splendour lies. A single monument the later time Beside, but not in rivalry, has built. Marking a death, of deaths the most sublime, Less to condemn the state than expiate her guilt. Now classic Isis all thy channels meet. And, leaving Oxford, Cherwell joins the throng Where father Thames, whose name once more I greet, To mouth of lesser Thame the great flood rolls along. .Yet Cherwell ere absorbed invites us back To where he flows through Magdalen's meadows green, And many arches bear along the track Where hosts have entered in and mighty kings have been. The Thames. 1 1 And Cherwell o'er, fair Oxford meets the view, Where stately buildings line her ample street ; Not all to lea,rning given, for in them, too, Statesmen to counsel used, and parliaments to meet. King Charles here held his sadly minished state, • When half the kingdom had renounced his sway ; Here phantom parliaments in vain debate. To save and to restore did wearily essay. But oh ! what joys to youth the river yields : The punt, the boat, the skiff, and the canoe, Entice them oft at evening from the fields, To give the oar a stroke, or push the slow punt through. Some trim the sail, some paddle all alone. Some guide great boats which many oars propel. Some, skilful steersmen, clear each jutting stone. Though threatening squalls arise, and gusts their canvas swell. Some find the river a luxurious bath. Where weary nerves, and fervid temples cool ; Whilst others dare the cataract's fatal wrath. Swim with the strongest flood, and plunge i' the seething pool. But times there are when Thames o'erflows hisbank And one vast sheet with Cherwell's channel.forms. Where vapours hang maleficent and dank, And fever's horrid brood in threatening circles swarm. 12 The Thames. Good cheer has then a special charm for all, And e'en grave elders load their solemn board ; The foaming tankard travels round the hall, Whilst fever passes on to smite some famished horde. Now fare thee well, fair Oxford. Yet a glance, At parting, from the tower on Folly's bridge, Roger Where mused thy first philosopher, I chance. Bacon, ^jj^ ggg ^jjgg ggj. jjj hills, more beauteous ridge on ridge. Thus much the eyes, — but fancy must unfold, Or memory of some former visit here, What charms the dwellers on those hills behold When from thee lifts the mist and all the vale is clear. OXFORD TO HENLEY. Now sweeping on to confluence with the Thame, Thames bathes a shore whose banks luxuriant rise To where the crowning timber forms a frame In which the rich man's seat, a stately mansion lies. Here fallow deer stroll tamely o'er the park, Newnham. Or browse beside the lawn where children play ; Here rabbits serve the youngsters for a mark, And higher game await their doom's appointed day. And farther on, when Thame has joined the stream, Abmgdon. There stands upon the bank the Abbey town. And ivied ruins drink the sun's last beam. Where once an abbey stood, a house of great renown. Right well the first monks loved a river-side. As, grateful, only there, they found the soil, Whereon the art of husbandry they plied, Giving to heaven their prayers, and to the earth their toil. 1 4 The Thames. Thence either bank is lined by cultured fields, , Whose varied tillage shows judicious care ; Where wheat and barley each its harvest yields, And clover blooms between, and fallow fields lie bare. And many a farm-house, peeping through the trees. Has on the river's bed a cheerful view. As, where the cart-horse takes his Sunday ease, Whilst cattle sip around, and sheep drink up the dew. And here are roadS' the river cuts in twain With ne'er a ford where heavy wheels can run. Nor bridge on which their course they can maintain. And 'tis the ferry joins their broken threads in one. Thus sometimes to the mill a waggon goes. Borne floating on a heavy punt across ; But boats more oft the man o' the ferry rows, And laughs when frighted freights the tiny billows toss. And oft a church tower stands upon the bluff. From whence 'tis seen both up and down the vale, With nave and chancel, maybe, in the rough Of earth and rubble made, if stone and granite fail. And through the vale its peal of bells is heard. And from each side good folk to worship come. Or hear their pastor say a kindly word. Or join their voices with the smock-frocked choir-boys' hum. The Thames. And here some lands there are which oxen plough, — Preferred by farmers on a stiff day soil, For 'neath the yoke their patient necks they bow, And slowly moving on fulfil their daily toil. But chiefly pastures border on the brink, Where comely milch cows hark the herdsman's hail, Or, musing o'er the water, seem to think. The while they chew the cud, or wait the milkmaid's pail. The lordly swan sails on thy bosom now, ■ „, O glorious river, which alone of all Swans. Our English rivers see'st his downy prow Thy placid waters cleave and snow-white feathers fall. Behold their train. Puffed up with conscious pride, The males, their plumage ruffling, lead the way ; The mates, less gorgeous, follow near their side, Or, dropping in the wake, each with her cygnet, play. Like half-reefed sails their ample wings they raise. Whilst graceful curves their archfed necks describe ; Their course they bend as wending through a maze. The finest sailors they of all the feathered tribe. 1 6 The Thames. Lo ! through yon arch the pompous barges come, On which t:he river's conservators are, With music sounding loud and beat of drum, Their solemn progress up announcing from afar. 'Tis like a memory of times gone by. When kings and courtiers each their barges kept And Thames saw rafts upon his waters lie, Where nymphs with satyrs toyed, and envious mermaids wept. But who are they who thus conserve thy stream, Its fish, its swans, its course of water free ? No shifting powers thy dignity beseem. Thy own great city's chiefs supremely rule o'er thee. Like some great empire which extends its sway Beyond the bounds of its exclusive power, ' Their gorgeous state glides on the watery way. To where staid commerce ends, and misty mountains lower. And first the chief of all, the city lord. Whom, next in rank, the aldermen succeed. Whilst other barges bear a crowded board, Who though of lower rank not less thine honour heed. * The Lord Mayor and Corporation of London. Though the legal jurisdiction terminates at Staines, they occasionally ascend beyond Oxford. The Thames. 17 Chatham. ' Old-fashioned bridges here may still be found, Which stretch across the river like a bow, The chief arch in the centre large and round, Through which the barges shoot as quickened waters flow. O'er such a bridge the clattering coaches passed, Which bore a famous statesman to the bath Lord By Romans used — ^whom Roman ne'er surpassed In flow of fiery words and outraged patriot's wrath. And traces, in this vale, of roads are found Which Roman soldiers in their leisure made, Who paved thy shelving bed, as 'twere dry ground, So where no arch went o'er, an arch below was laid. A town of great antiquity is here, ^^ '°^' Built on a site whose charm lay in the ford. Which many chiefs, with dry uplifted spear, [warred. Marched through in days of yore when Rome on Britain Nor far, another lies, whose life just gives Reading. The faintest image of those northern hives, Where man, it seemeth, but to labour lives. Where one toils on for wealth, for food another strives. And yet, as by the river side we stroll,, Full many a beauty dawns to meet our gaze ; — As where, i' the centre placid waters roll. Whilst little branches plash and thread an island maze. c 1 8 The Thames. 'Tis in these isles the paired swans build their nests ; 'Tis in these rills the little cygnets play; 'Tis here the angler takes his mid-day rest, Or lurks at set of sun, intent upon his prey. Like spots on beauty's cheek these eyots seem. When sparkling riplets round their borders flow. Which with the sun's refracted radiance gleam, Like smiles and blushes, that 'mid love's own dimples glow. And sometimes ozier beds upon them lie. And weeping willows mourn along the stream, ■\Vhich still shall weep as time goes fleeting by, And never living wake out of their gloomy dream. And where to join a tributary glides. And 'twixt the streams a water-meadow lies. The soil, thus nurtured by their mingling tides, Makes quick great roots of trees, whence stems gigantic rise. Or where a weir is built across the flood, The lake above it, silent, calm, and deep. Contrasts the rapids, which, in jovial mood. Go babbling on below the foaming water's leap. And oft are woods the river-side along. Where shaded paths lead to secluded nooks. And seats, half-hid the leafy boughs among. Whence an enchanting view o'er wood and water looks. The Thames. 1 9 Or perhaps a manor house completes the scene With muUion windows and qukint chimneys decked, Whose squire thinks o'er old times in's pride serene, And of the great estate which his forefathers wrecked. Elsewhere a ruin stands upon the bank, With shattered arch of church, or door of cell. Or crumbling tower, with donjon deep and dank, Where good men preached or prayed, and bad men fought and fell. HENLEY.— THE REGATTA. Now lo ! what gayness lights the scenery here : Fair dames, and gentle squires, and laughing girls I see, and many a youth in boating gear, Who smooths the nap ashore, afloat the canvas furls. It is a river festival they hold. And all are come their river to enjoy ; Though now they feast, or hear their fortunes told, Or score their betting-books, or in gay dalliance toy. And many boats lie round, equipped to race ; In each a comely youth rests on the oar, Whose form the artist on a cup might chase. Such as the prize displayed to longing eyes on shore. And many contests shall the umpire view, Whilst many forms the varied race assumes, In sails and oars and numbers of the crew. And in the points on which himself each boatsman plumes. The Thames. 2 1 Some youths alone, with paddle or with sculls, Propel their craft ; but some combine in crews. Whose each oar follows as the stroke oar pulls, The while their course ahead none but the steersman views. And some, to navigate their little skiffs, Their anchors heave, and spread their fluttering sails ; And ply the rudder hard, to catch the whiffs [dales. Which from the hillocks round come whispering down the The oar, the sail, the wherry, the canoe. Have each admirers in the festive throng; And there is choice of boat and choice of crew. By partial friendship swayed, that critic crowd among. But one chief race excites each looker on To an enthusiastic pitch of glee. Lo, now ! the eight oars passing, critics con, And maids, admiring, all some favoured athlete see. Long is the train the proud procession makes. And gay the trim of each succeeding boat. For ev'ry badge a different colour takes ; And all the rowers' forms the trainer's skill denote. Now side by side, in one long even line. From shore to shore of Thames' broad bed they reach, All bend at once, in one their strokes combine. Whilst plaudits ring around, and rise from either beach. 2 2 The Thames. And by they go, and every sinew strain ; But 'tis not strength alone the victory wins, For on the strong the skilful rowers gain, Helped by their helmsmen when the veering rudder spins. Some shoot ahead, whilst others lag behind, And in between the ruck still struggles on ; Some as the goal draws near fresh vigour find. And some the stroke relax, their chance of victory gone. Now forth their last remains of strength they put, Three crews their wherries single from the rest ; Awhile three prows, each o'er the other, jut. Till, changing places, two a moment seem abreast. But now the conquerors lift their oars on high. As victory's pseans through the welkin ring ; From every mast of yacht their colours fly, [bring. And on the fair ones' breasts, whose hands the chief prize A silver cup with loveliest figures chased, Of Thames suggestive, as where Venus' boys In little wherries have each other raced. Or Venus' self alone the furtive bath enjoys. Now ends the sport, and speeds the parting guest, Yet long the plash of distant oars is heard, As boats drop down the stream where ladies rest. Courting the breeze by which their fluttering sail is stirred. HENLEY TO WINDSOR. Lo Cliefden rises towering over Thames, With groves receding from the water's edge, Through which a fountain pours its crystal gems. O'er winding grassy slopes down on the shelving ledge. Here lived and revelled, vice and pleasure's thrall, A favourite's son, to fortune's favour bom, Whose wit and wealth and melancholy fall Successive poets * touched with moralizing scorn. Forthwith, as still our constant course we wind, Maiden- Of nobler fame a little town f we reach. Where legend tells of woman's constant mind. And martyred virgins still to man endurance teach. For, as the story goes, in barbarous times, When grim invaders claimed as valour's prize Charms meet to wean them from their native climes, Nor thought themselves unclean in conquered beauty's eyes, * Dryden, Pope. + Leland says, the name comes from the head of a virgin. head. 24 The Thames. Maids, who lived here, to martjTrdom withstood The rude despoilers of their peaceful land, Shrank from a grasp imbrued in kindred blood. And, dying, heavenward stretched the still unsullied hand. Honour the Christians of that early day, When, fanned by zeal, religion's tide flowed on ; And for a contrast take the priest of Bray,* On whom the later light of rival Churches shone. But let the fickle Vicar have this praise — That though in changeful times his lot was cast. He always led his little flock to graze. Prepared their fold at eve, and watched them to the last. • Bray is near the Thames, below Maidenhead. WINDSOR. Behold where Windsor's Castle beetling stands, The ancient seat of English monarchs, who Still seek delight where rural life expands, And 'mid enchanting scenes their regal toils pursue. Half round, the river winds his silver rim. Smooth flows his flood, his babbled murmurs cease ; Whilst in his waters golden fishes swim, And regal swans proclaim their monarch's biding peace. Narrow, with wUd flowers interspersed, there lies A water-meadow in its emerald vest, From whence steep and more steep slopes smoothly rise To where with varied hues the flower-beds crown their crest. Wide is the view which from the crest extends. Luxuriant are the beauties of the scene. And most the river as its course it wends To where through spreading boughs 'tis still in ghmpses seen. 26 The Thames. And o'er the stream, and far away, there loom Fair fields, and leafy groves, and tapering spires. Round which the yew-trees mourn, the hawthorns bloom. And wreaths of smoke curl up from cheerful homestead fires. Upon the other side, still near the stream, A royal road far through the forest leads, — 'Twixt where with crops the home-farm acres teem. And where the lordly stag in conscious safety feeds, Straight to the mount on which imperious stands George The bronze-wrought image of a former king, ^^^' Who still with out-stretched arm as 'twere commands That former subjects should the questioned tribute bring. And stately trees in rows on either side. High-towering, line the road, and line the swards, Elizabeth. Along whose velvet turf a Queen did ride. When ambling palfreys still were led by courtier lords. But now the forest, stretching far around O'er various soils, where every colour thrives, I' the leafy wealth that shades th' uneven ground. Low spreading bushes blends with trunks the lightning rives. And through its tangled mass, the sheltered glade Conducts the wanderer to the opening sky, Across the tracks the antlered herd have made. And glad is he to see as they go fleeting by. - The Thames. • 2 7 And little dells there are whose summits end In broken rocks from which a fountain flows, Where spreading trees their foliage downward bend, And scarce a murmur breaks the solemn scene's repose. ' And little dingles dive into the rifts Where yawning caverns swallow tiny brooks. Whose little lives are spent in fruitless shifts To find a passage through entangled forest nooks. And here at times the lone stag makes his lair. When nature prompts him fellow stags to shun ; Yet here at whiles the hinds and fawns repair. When the cool shade invites to fly the scorching sun. And here they browse upon the tender leaves, Sweeter than bracken to the new-weaned fawns. The while their lord with pride his bosom heaves. Preferring freedom here to sunshine on the lawns. And in the thicket, on the trunks of trees He rubs his horns; and through the wood the sound Spreads all around, untroubled by a breeze. To where through echo's caves the thudding noises bound. Nor far the pools round which the herons dwell. Gregarious birds, as citizens they live ; And yet, morose, their gloomy thoughts to quell. They rove far from the homes their native elm-trees give. 28 The Thames. And further on a lovely lake we see, By landscape gardeners made, where once a swamp Filled men with sorrow but the bii-ds with glee, Which, swimming, wading, could in filthy quagmires romp. If o'er the forest bounds our steps are bent, A famous heath we find, the sportsman's pride. Where many a pleasant hour our kings have spent. As in the race their own high-mettled coursers vied. And late most strange an eagle did appear. And o'er the forest whirling high did soar. Then on the castle perched — 'twas in the year When all Bulgaria was manured with human gore.* A golden eagle — did he come to claim A golden tribute for that trampled land ? Or only to presage the horrid fame With which unfruitful wars ambitious statesmen brand ? Or may we think that instinct brought this bird. By strange reversion to ancestral use. To where of yore the eagle's scream was heard By lonely hunter or by lonelier recluse, — That when he lit and perched on Windsor's tower, He mused, displeased, on all the gorgeous scene. For he was wont to be where tempests lower, And thought him but of what sans man it might have been. * See Times, January ist, 1878. The, Thames. 29 Yet turn we now, lest far from Thames we stray, And back through the ever changing forest stroll. With loitering steps recounting on our way Of single famous trees the ancient curious roll. Uncertain legend says two are so old, That one great Csesar planted, one, the king Of whom such acts of sanctity are told That o'er the Saxon line his deeds a halo fling. One, vast in girth, to him tradition gives. Who first in Windsor chose as king to bide, And make a home, round which his memory lives For something better famed than for a conqueror's pride. Another tree far other fame attends, For 'neath its foliage Wyclifife preached the word, , As one in whom some Holy Spirit sends Aprophet, when men's minds by pregnant thoughts are stirred. Yet o'er these trees decay has thrown her charm, ' Their trunks are hollow, and their boughs are bare, Save where some healthier branch extends an arm To catch the moisture or imbibe the ambient air. In some, the wild bee builds her humble nest. And in their branches lively squirrels play. While insects buzz around in ceaseless quest Of life's chief joy to them whose life is but a day. 30 The Thames. In some, the little bird that pecks the wood Keeps hammering out the poor tree's ebbing life, Or else the raven's melancholy brood Forebodes disaster in the wind's tempestuous strife. Yet some there are where little songsters perch. And swell their throttles with melodious song. The while their mates in busy hiyry search For insect food which live the mouldering chips among. Yet one we miss more famous than the rest, For genius touched it with her magic wand. Heme's oak, which Falstaffs fancy's elves possessed. When Quickly's sack' flowed pure and merry wives were fond. And near this, on the threshold of their Queen, In modest ease some timeworn soldiers * dwell ; Oft were they leading on to victory seen, [fell. Where thickest raged the fight and round most comrades The dragon's victor, England's patron saint. Still names the fane where Queen and courtiers pray. From whose groined roof o'er stalls and carvings quaint. The tattered banners hang o' the knights of th' olden day. And hither too, of comely form, there came From German schools, with German thought imbued, A youthful prince the royal bride to claim, Whom his good heart had won, his generous spirit wooed. * The Poor Knights of Windsor. The Thames. 31 And if within the castle's gate we pass, Each page of history has its separate scroll, For every age adds something to the mass, As reign on reign in turn our destinies unroll. If 'twas the Norman Conqueror who laid Deep the foundation of this home of kings, 'Tis England's Virgin Queen, the royal maid. Whose building o'er the whole palatial grandeur flings. But now another Queen adorns the throne, A model she in all domestic life. Who to her spouse on monumental stone Such homage pays as might an' equal-mated wife. But other memories cling around the keep, Where many years a royal prisoner * lay, Whose eyes were wont to burst the bands of sleep When Phoebus' morning kiss announced the break of day. Then to the casement of his room he went, • And looked awhile upon the ground below — A garden fair, where leaf and flower were blent, And each famiUar plant did with his exile grow. * James I. of Scotland. Taken prisoner by the English on his way to France, at eleven years of age, and detained above eighteen years, during virhich he inhabited the keep of Windsor Castle. During nearly all this time he was king of Scotland, his father, Robert III., having died of grief on hearing of his captivity 32 The Thames. A gentle youth, though rude his native land, With English culture in his prison fraught ; By friendly muses were his fancies fanned. And in such language clothed as Gower and Chaucer taught. In verse he drew to life each humble flower, And every plant, and all their trembling leaves ; And creepers twining round the trellised bower. That crowned the sunny spot where Flora's bosom heaves. And of the sun some noble lines he wrote. How " Phoebus bade each flower and leaf farewell," Just as a parting beam the garden smote. And then to twilight left its little darkling dell. One happier morning, as he hailed the dawn, His eyes were lit up by a lady fair,* Whose airy step swept o'er the dewy lawn. Did Flora tend the plants ?, or was Aurora there ? He could not tell. A ferment of the brain Turned all his senses' strength into his eyes. Goddess or mortal — either love seemed vain : But Cupid, king of all, a prison's bars defies. * The Lady Jane Beaufort, daughter of the Earl of Somerset, and a princess of the blood royal of England. The Thames. 33 The fair one was a lady of the court, Meet by her rank with Scotland's king to wed. Think ye she came to pluck a flower for sport ; Or modestly fulfil her sovereign's order dread ? In sweetest verse his chaste amour he sings ; How to his bed he wooed his English queen, Round whom his fancy every virtue flings, And every grace that should make wedded life serene.* Soon Scotland hailed her long-imprisoned lord. Who o'er her discords poured the balm of peace. Shared with the rich the learning he had stored. And, for the poor, essayed their welfare to increase. His English training and his English wife, But more the native beauty of his soul. Made him abhor the never-ending strife Which set his throne at nought, and mocked the law's control. Then wicked thanes their noble monarch slew, His own bad uncle urging to the deed : Before their swords the English princess flew. And in his purple stream did her fair bosom bleed. ' King's Quair " is the name of this poem. ETON. Now pass we through the town o' the merry wives, To where a long low bridge the river spans, Beneath whose arches strait the current strives, Which in a bay ensconced the musing schoolboy scans. Low lie the meadows where the college stands. Of England's boys the famed and favourite school, From which she still in chief recruits the bands Who bear her flag aloft, and in her councils rule. 'Tis here her balm religion o'er them sheds ; 'Tis here they learn fidelity and truth ; Here many boys with classics cram their heads ; Here games too oft become the serious things of youth. Yet classic lore expands the youthful mind ; All is so new : religion, language strange ; The manners freer, yet withal refined : Thought more condensed, because more narrow in its range. The Thames. And in the classic jousts, where Greece essayed In strength and grace to mould the youthful frame, Is found a warrant for the deference paid To those who take the lead in each athletic game. Full many games these winsome youngsters ply ; In many ways propel the rolling ball With bats and hands, and eke with feet they vie, Who best can give the stroke, or wrestle for a fall. There in the meadow by the Thames, they play. What various powers are called forth in the game ! The dash of vigour, and the power to stay,. Quick eye, and speed of foot, with suppleness. of frame. Here some in mimic sport, as hare and hound, Or without fancy in a paper chase. Scour o'er the lea and o'er the fences bound. Nor heed the line which ends, their freedom's measured space. And to the river many boys resort. In many ways their pleasure there to take, To some mere fishing with a worm is sport. To angle others now their first faint efforts make. But most they try to navigate the stream ; With strokes in rhythm strike the yielding wave ; With feathering oars they make the water gleam, Or through a press of boats unhurt the frail bark stave. o 6 The Thames. Here, too, they learn with venturous arms to cleave Some tranquil pool round which the current winds, And when a certain course they can achieve. Free of the stream are they, no rule their gambols binds. Some try their speed, some swim with native grace, Some stem the current, some along it glide, Swim on the back and skyward turn the face, Some dive and try how long 'tis possible to bide. Some play upon the bank, or wait awhile Before they take a header or a leap. And like the Grecian's athlete's is the style In which their merry tryst on Thames' bank they keep. Nor to Alpheus shall the Thames concede, For grace or strength or comely growth the palm, Or when they frisk, from every trammel freed. Or in the sunshine bask their frolicking to calm. Surly Hall. An ancient manor-house is here their bound. Where once there dwelt a race of yeomen squires ; But now a farmer has it with the ground. For from the social ring the jostled swain retires. And every mullion know they in each bay. For every year a grand procession goes, Of large long boats, all in their best array. To where by this old hall the stately river flows. The Thames. 37 Now dropping down the stream, , once more we land, Where many homes of masters dot the plain. Which boys' homes are ; for they with friendly hand All beckon to their hearths the scholars whom they train. 'Tis thus sweet home with college life combines ; For all these houses form a cluster round The red brick building which the roadside lines, [sound. And through whose portal comes the schoolboy's chattering's What happy memories cling around these halls ! How many here have passed their happiest years ! Nay, e'en to those who chafed within their walls. The charm of Eton life alone through distance peers. Let one exception stand the rule in proof. Shelley. Eccentric, sensitive, with generous soul Teased, tortured, kept from every sport aloof, This fostering dam to him was still a hideous ghoul, When trumps of fame resounded in his ear And verse melodious trickled from his pen. Whilst kindred spirits strove his heart to cheer, And o'er all bounds he stretched his philosophic ken. ETON TO CHERTSEY. Now let us further down our course pursue, And leave thy towers, O Eton ! far behind, Till, turning round, we catch a distant view, Which calls thy poet Gray and his sweet verse to mind. Soon from the river rises Cooper's hill, From whence a view, that stretches far around. Might tempt us, were it meet to linger still. Back to the scenes we've left in Windsor's forest's bound. Though other spots have lacked their bard so long, This hill is famed in a mellifluous lay : Oh, could I, Denham, emulate thy song, And all Thames' shifting scenes in verse like thine array ! And yet I would not limit to the ken From one fixed spot the pictures that I draw ; Borne like a waif upon the stteam, my pen Shall point to every charm but turn from every flaw. The Thames. 39 Lo ! with what memories fraught the river flows By honoured- Rurmymede's historic plain, And laps the ait where Liberty arose, And made her footing firm on Lackland's recreant reign ! How glorious must thy bank, O Thames, have been. When here the barons met for freedom's sake, And thy clear wave reflected back their sheen, And laughed to see the maid to such protection wake. And passing Chertsey next, at eve we hear The curfew toll its melancholy knell. As from her ancient site her towers appear. The long-transmitted tale of Norman rule to tell. Here Wey comes pouring his cream-coloured waves; Beneath the chalk their mother-fountain hides, Thence, through a gully borne, a streak he laves. On which, in order piled, time's gathered witness bides. Arranged as in a catacomb, there are Things which once lived in sunshine on the earth. And which, exposed by riving of the scar. Show that each age brought forth an altered altering birth. FISHmG. Walton- Another smiling village now recalls, Thames. Though with no right, the famous angler's name. Who taught his fellow cits, when business palls. To take a rod and troll for Thames's finny game. Still his shrewd precepts rule the patient tribe Who wait the live-long day to get a bite, And triumph when the painted fluttering bribe O'er-tempts one greedy fish to gulp it down outright. Yet, such his quaint morality, we find The pain o' the poor worm writhing on the hook, And e'en the anguish of the fish's mind When dangled on the line, not mentioned in his book. Still many from the city here resort. Their languid leisure gently to enjoy. And much they prize the solemn tranquil sport. At which experienced age outdoes the lithest boy. The Thames. 41 Some in a punt and seated on a chair, Some in the water with huge stockings on, Some stooping over from the shore, are there, And all alike intent their finny prey they con. Their fishing o'er, at close of day they meet At little inns within the ripple's sound, And call a club for any angling feat ; Where, 'mid serene content, the loving cup goes round. THE VILLA. And many a villa hugs the river-side, Some wealthy citizen's much-cherished home, Where wife and daughter undisturbed reside. Whilst dangerous and far his speculations roam. And much they love their little trim domain, With trees that kiss the river as it flows. Take moisture in and give it out again. As Zephyr's wings pass by, to parasitic rose. And flowers are there, the growth of every clime. With every strange variety of hue. And such succession of fresh buds, that Time, Who sheds the withering leaves, has always some to strew. And in their midst a sea of emerald green, Soft and elastic, smooth, without a flaw. Not flecked with feathers when the songsters preen. Nor with the vagrant leaves that flowers around them sti'aw. The ThaMes. 43 And gravel walks there are, that skirt the lawn, With pretty borders fringing the' other side. Where peeps no weed but by the roots 'tis drawn, And where no truant grass its jutting blade can hide. And in the shrubbery every kind of bush. Confused together, to all seeming, lie, And lean upon, and through each other push ; "Yet all are placed to please the skilful gardener's eye. Tall tapering shrubs hang down in rich festoons. Each bush's curve is just the line of grace ; The palm recalls us Afric's sultry noons, And pines, almost as rare, the north-land's whitened face. And just beyotid, completing the estate, Are two small fields, with different verdures gay : Ther^ kine of choicest breeds luxuriate, And here the fresh-mown swards a brighter green display. These several plots their different pleasures yield, For 'tis a lounge, when home amusements fail, To watch the ponies gambol in the field. Or photograph or sketch the milkmaid at her pail. And in the meadow, when the math is ripe, How sweet to hear the mower whet his scythe. Trace on the turf of falling grass a stripe. And join in making hay with comrades young and bUthe. 44 The Thames. And then a belt of trees, to screen the road, And give them all that privacy so dear To those who feel, within their snug abode. How hard it were to bear that envious eyes should peer. And towards the house a pretty poultry yard. So fine it might an aviary be ; — The nests so soft, the pens so neatly barred, The fowls the rarest known to ornithology. And favourite horses stand in roomy stalls ; And from Jerusalem, a milk-white ass. So wise, so gentle, that when baby falls, It only serves to show how velvety the grass. Nor is the house itself without a style Which marks it for a fanciful abode; A pigmy sample of Palladian pile. Just altered here and there to suit the climate's mode. Nor need we dwell upon the inward charms, Where comfort is with luxury combined. And not a chink lets in those wild alarms Which rufHe, when away, the merchant's anxious mind. Here may the gentle inmates' hearts expand, Untroubled here their charity may flow. The home befriended by itself may stand ; No risk need they to run in crooked alleys low. The Thames. 45 Thus virtue 's easy made to those who share The power of wealth to forward every good, But not the need, at every turn, to care Whence wealth sufficient comes to serve each pious mood. A SUBURBAN VILLAGE. And other homes there are, of humbler men, With front to road or else to village green, Proud that the river lies .within their ken, Though but from some one point a distant glimpse is seen. Their simple pleasures common sports provide, The bath, the boat, the fishing-rod and line, The lonely ramble by the river's side, [shrine. Where they can reach the stream, nor touch the rich man's 'Tis theirs to wander where the footpath leads From clattering hoofs of horses far away. Beneath the hedges where the linnet breeds, Or o'er some hill that greets the first faint light of day. And as they go, the warblers round them sing. Whose notes become familiar to their ear. To jaded nerves a soothing influence Taring, And help, when fortune quails, the failing heart to cheer. The Thames. 47 And oft they cull a cowslip or a rose, Sweet-scented flowers with fragrant branches bind, Or pluck the fruit that on the bramble grows, So dear each rural thing is to the urban mind. And oft they note the colour of a leaf. When autumn comes and robs; it of its bloom, And it puts on the livery of grief, And many changeful shades its russet tints assume. Within the porch at eve or on the grass, That blends harmonious with the village green. They change a greeting as acquaintance pass. And see the sun's last rays immerse the tranquil scene. And oft on Sabbath days they help to teach The little rustics of the Sunday school ; For, kind to all their humble means can reach. They find poor children good, and through affection rule.' And in the parish church they have their place, As fixed, as certain, as the rich man's pew ; And high they stand in their good Rector's grace, [true. Because he knows the church holds none more staunch and So do they cherish their adopted home, All its surroundings are to them so dear, If by the church among the graves they roam. Their thought is, that in death, 'twere well abiding here. MOULSEY HURST. And next the river flows past Moulsey Hurst ; And though no thicket cumbers now the ground, Yet forest trees are scattered still, where erst Nought but the gloomy glade and Druids' groves were found. HAMPTON COURT. But soon we reach a grand palatial pile, Whith in the border time of cultures rose, When softer forms displaced the antique style, Whence through its halls the day in ampler volume flows. The gloom of ages thus itself dissolved, And Darkness' reign o'er wakening Europe ceased. When men of thought on higher flight resolved. And Grecian lore again came tripping from the East. It is a monument of Churchmen's pride ; But proof as well how in those days the poor. Through holy Church, could breast fate's adverse tide. Throw off their mean estate, and fortune's smiles allure. And yet the legend is, that Henry thought This edifice too grand for Wolsey's state ; Nor smoothed his wrath till the proud subject brought The homage of his work, and thus delayed his fate. 50 The Thames. Here Henry dwelt, and, greater still than he, His daughter's husband deigned with her to spend Those few dull days of mournful gallantry, When Spain and England tried, — ill-sorted pair, — to blend. Thy palace, Hampton, suits a warmer sun ; For here the skilful architect designed. Whilst every line should in proportion run, That radiant tints should be with spacious halls combined. Here, in Italian form fair gardens spread Stretch from the palace forth and far away, Beside the line of Thames's sedgy bed. To where fleet flit the deer as loud the stag-hounds bay. With golden fishes sheets of water live. And fountains throw their bubbles to the air. And bronze and marble classic figures give, Pomona rich in form and Flora debonair. And beds of flowers and gravelled walks there are. Umbrageous avenues beneath the yew. And then a terrace walk, whence, fair and far. Along Thames' downward course extends the opening view. But up the stream anent the village green, A bridge from Moulsey Hurst the river spans, And pleasure boats of every size are seen, Where through the bridge, the breeze their tiny streamers fans. The Thames. 51 For Hampton houses Royalty no more, Her gorgeous palace now is free to all, None is so poor they turn him from the door, And none so humble but struts through his sovereign's hall. Through every cranny pleasure-seekers roam. Save where some friend of Royalty enjoys, — To age or sorrow given, — so free a home. That time hangs heavy oft, and too much leisure cloys. Untutored though they be, the humble folk Who from the city come for pleasure here. Such influence feel as if the Graces spoke Through all these works of art, to their uncultured ear. Yet other springs of pleasure here they find ; For when Dutch William filled the English throne, And youths at Court for home amusements pined, Italian grace perforce put on a Flemish tone : Then landscape gardeners planned and twirled a maze So like the ancient labyrinth of Crete, Save in the Minotaur's ferocious gaze. That she postpones her fate who shows the nimblest feet. BUSHEY PARK. And near the palace, yet beyond its bounds, Lies one of Cromwell's favourite resorts, Where he was wont, with lank Italian hounds. To hunt the hare, when here he held his mongrel courts. Now loaded vans come lumbering down from town. With cockneys crowded, panting for fresh air. When from the brow of winter fades the frown. And budding, all her trees make Bushey debonair. Reclining here upon a sultry day. Amongst great avenues of chestnut trees, On pleasure bent, the old folk feast away. Whilst youth impatient grows, and little children tease. And when at eve the merry dance goes round, Their simple minds can think no greater bliss, 'Till mirth, run riot, sends them with a bound Across his magic ring, to snatch a stolen kiss. HAMPTON BRIDGE TO KINGSTON. Now lo ! the Mole, awaking from a dream, Like holy Buddhist in another birth, Seeks for absorption in the Thames's stream. And breaks his flood to end his second course on earth. But soon the river like a serpent winds, With fertile pastures lapped within its folds, In whose luxuriant grass the milch cow finds A source to fill the font her swollen udder holds. And pretty hamlets nestle in the bends, Where friendly signs the wanderer invite, As on the stream his idle way he wends, To where familiar games with rural charms unite. KINGSTON 'Tis here we pass the famed historic stone, Wliich, in the time of England's early kings, Was used to give a foretaste of the throne,. Which oft o'er early hopes a gloomy shadow flings. This stone recalls the young king Edwy's fate. Who took a lovely cousin for his queen. Without a dispensation from the great Ecclesiastic twain, who ruled behind the scene. Scarce seventeen years had Edwy when they tore The fair Elgiva from his side, to die A cruel death, where torture went before; For to her cheek they did a burning brand apply. In three years more the youthful monarch died, A widowed wanderer, hunted and dethroned, Because the Church'slaw he had defied — A sin could only be by pain and death atoned. The Thames. 55 These dreadful Churchmen, as our story shows, — Though in the Calendar one's writ a saint. Because he pulled the devil by the nose, — St. Dun- Deigned not their own hard hearts with mercy to acquaint. TWICKENHAM. Now classic Twickenham Thames's waters bathe, And round the shrine enchanting memories cling ; For genius, like a parted spirit's wraith, Still hovers o'er the spot where poet's verses ring. Pope. Clear as a crystal stream his numbers flowed. No one so simple doubted of the sense. Distinct as life, his polished mirror showed The lines on nature's face in beautified pretence. The From foreign lands to exile princes came. Princes. And waited here the turn of Fortune's wheel. Oft pondering on the years they lost to fame. As by the bank they saw Thames' placid waters steal. And near the spot, a little up the stream, A pretty hillock swells the Thames's bank. Where once an author made his world a theme. Yet with his gentle pen was ever free and frank.* * Strawberry Hill — Horace Walpole. RICHMOND. See on the other shore a rising ground, That stretches forward to the ancient Sheen, And to the roving deer has been the bound Since royal Beauclerc first emparked the woodland green. Beyond its summit, reaches o'er the soil, In slopes receding from nigh Thames's shore, A park where never yet was human toil. But still the rutting stag bells till the echoes roar. Along this bank I trow the poet strayed, Thomson. Of summer thinking what his muse could tell, When Musidora's form his rambling stayed. Nor more than classic swain could he break through the spell. The place retired, the wood's green leafy shade, The limpid water and the sultry day, Excuse the boldness of the rustic maid, Who let the cooling stream' o'er charms unvestured play. 58 The Thames, Now winds the river 'neath the far-famed hill, Whence up the vale the prospect forth extends, And water gleaming leads the eye, until Sky, fields, and water fuse, and all in dimness ends. When hot from Bosworth, where his flag had been Victorious, Richmond of the red-rose came, Such quiet found he in this soothing scene. That to the favoured spot he gave his duchy's name. Far in the north the earlier Richmond stands. Where once its castle frowned upon the Swale, As, watering holy Church's abbey lands, It tumbled down the fosse, meandering through the vale. Round Thames's Richmond yet a memory floats. For music here was wont her tones to fill. And oft her tuneful bands have swelled their notes, To quiver through the air a song of Richmond Hill.* Music excels the feathered songster's chirp, Swaying high souls in her melodious sphere. Yet shall she not on poetry usurp, Who moveth most through thought, as music through the ear. 'Tis here our river meets the tidal wave. Which stems the flowing water's seaward course ; A wider space the spreading currents lave ; The flood, pent up meanwhile, accumulates its force. * Song, " The Lass of Richmond Hill," by Flatow. The Thames. 59 Now through the mill the race alternate goes, A double movement using all its strength : With greater force the little streamlet flows, Save when the turning tide just drags its weary length. Ascending with the flood, the oarsmen float. As it sweeps onwards from the distant sea, And smUe to meet some downward toiling boat, With which, but for the tide, the flow o' th' stream would be. And when the tide suits with the festive hour, And summer breezes tempt them to the stream. In throngs they come, as eve begins to lower. Stay till the ebb, and then float with the pale moonbeam. Now Sion's cloisters lie upon our left, L^dy Jane Where nuns once dwelt, and whence an almost queen ^"^^7- Went forth, of fleeting fortune's smiles bereft. To die, on childhood's brink, courageous and serene. KEW GARDEN. And on our right the wondrous garden see, Whose flora claims to be of every zone And every age a faint epitome, Where living plants confront their prototypes in stone. Here science finds the origin of life, Where first in matter it begins to flow. And microscopic learning views the strife, As to organic form the protoplasms grow. Here forms are seen which different kingdoms claim, Because their life a double purpose shows, Whose organs suit their nature's two-fold aim, One half for free choice formed, the other for repose. And here some strange monstrosities there are. Carnivorous plants that nature's rule defy, Exceptions, which would need an iron bar, But that their swallow yet is stuffed up with a fly. The Thames. 6i Plants hither brought from regions far away, Where nature's face a different aspect bore, And other accidents around them lay, Than those they meet with now on Tharaes's friendly shore, Are here, surrounded by an anxious care. Here skilful gardeners prepare the soil, And mete the moisture to their native air. Whilst like a serpent heat twines round its iron coil. And eVry tender plant a shelter finds, Which like the caravanseras in the East, Is just enough protection from the winds. But lets the light come through, diminished or increased. So lofty and so vast these mansions are. That trees which storms in Indian jungles rive. And those which in the desert loom afar, [thrive. Here find a climate, where, with man's shrewd aid, they And here the scientific gardeners mould Fresh forms of flowers, and by gradation draw The new varieties so from the old. That, by their light, the sage unravels nature's law. But though for science formed, the garden teems With all to which the gardener's arts conduce, Where every plant is so well placed, it seems Some more effective charm by contrast to produce. 62 The Thames. And in the garden is a bosky space, Where shrubs from Asian mountains line the glade, And huge umbrageous trees their branches lace. And from their lofty trunks project the ample shade. CHISWICK. Towards London tiding as our oars we ply, The rush of th' ebbing waters sounds a dirge Beside a church, whose yews responsive sigh O'er graves and tombstones which great tidal waves submerge. 'Tis Chiswick, famous once for flowers and shows, Whose churchyard thus abuts upon the .stream, Where ghosts seem mirrored when the pale moon glows, Or twinkling lights appear, that through the gloaming gleam. Here lies Hogarth, he whom town-life inspired To paint with humour and with satire scathe ; Who loved to live at times from town retired. Who worked for virtue there, but here imbibed her faith. Perchance 'twas here that his shrewd eye discerned The sickly contrast wanton pleasures show To homeher joys, by thrifty labour, earned. As girls unsulUed watched light masks pass to and fro. CHISWICK TO CHELSEA. Now near the great metropolis we come, Around us swarm the bargeman's laden craft ; On every side we hear the busy hum From struggling lighter borne and huge unwieldy raft. And noisy steamers furrow through the wave. Our slender skiff rocks roughly in their swell ; But old and heavy boats their mercy crave, As on their course they speed, where mystic powers impel. But worse the crews of little launches are. By steam impelled with wild impetuous speed. Who twirl the rudder from each greater jar, But rarely in his punt the helpless fisher heed. Here pleasure-seekers still the shoreland haunt, To feast on eels in floating prisons kept, Or hear the waterman his prowess vaunt. Or lie at length on swards by trailing dresses swept. The Thames. 65 For here the village trenches on the town, And half its sweet simplicity is lost. Yet Putney has its own well-earned renown. Frail barks take refuge here by surging billows tost. In summer here the rowers' club is held ; 'Tis here they come their gentle craft to teach. Above this point the tide's worst force is quelled, Below it rages wild, wind-driven o'er many a reach. And when the evening revellers homeward hie, And shoot the bridge, ill-famed for narrow span, A shout of triumph rends the starlit sky, For oft beneath that arch brave boat to ruin ran. Upon the other shore a palace stands, Fulham. Known as the manor-house of London's see. Where bishops, without leaving their own lands. Could make or lead retreats, and world and city flee. Now must we leave rusticity behind. Trim urban gardens dot the scene around. Where solemn groves and stately timber find No insalubrious air nor uncongenial ground. Here lives, perchance, a venerable yew From which some yeoman cut the supple bow Whose cord at Agincourt his strong arm drew. To speed the fatal shaft against the mailfed foe. 66 The Thames. Grand cedars, too, from Lebanon that came, Umbrageous trees, here spread their aged boughs ; 'Neath such Crusaders sat to scoff at fame, Or wail their travail lost and unproductive vows. And here is still a wooden bridge, that bears Its narrow causeway to the further shore, So mean that, when the mouldering timber wears. No patch, I trow, will mend its ancient crumbling floor. CHELSEA. Now Chelsea's church o'erlooks the shaded walk, Where, musing on the wave he thought his own, The haughty Spaniard wonted was to stalk,* Nor weened his ships should be by Mary's sister strown. Here Thames's granite confines stop the tide. And put a limit to the surging wave ; In vain the current's swollen volumes glide Against the mass inert their foaming masses lave. The Em- bankment. Here lived Erasmus' friend. Sir Thomas More, Urbane and pious, not averse to change, But as unfit with Luther's thought to soar As wings of dove to reach the eagle's airy range. See, scarcely yet included in the town, A new-made park, on Thames's southern side, I' the midst of which a deep-dug dell dips down. So low that, from the winds, its banks a garden hide. Battersea Park. * It is said that the Spanish suite stayed at Chelsea, while Philip was at Hampton Court. 68 The Thames. Here trees and shrubs and flowering plants are found Whose native climates near the tropics lie, For such the calm, so fertilized the ground. Unhoused, they flourish here, beneath our northern sky. Now, leaving Chelsea, on our left we note A hospital where time-worn soldiers rest, The unwritten page of history prone to quote. For incidents of war, their shattered limbs attest. Their well-known uniform, their manly gait. Their martial mien, which years do not eSace, The little godson's rising pride inflate, ^Vhen in full dress they come, his birthday feast to grace. Oft sitting here upon their own green sward, Changes they've seen which younger eyes might daze. So long 'tis since their country did award Them life-long leisure, but on Thames's shore to gaze. Here to the river folly used to cling. When Ranelagh's gardens, and when Vauxhall saw The giddy fair ones whirl in fashion's ring. With patches for a charm, and witchery in a flaw. But these are gone, since followed by Cremorne, Sedater pleasures captivate our youth. The earlier, stately revelries they scorn, The later ones condemn as vulgar and uncouth. LAMBETH. Now Lambeth's walls appear, decayed and blurred, A palace and a tower that takes its name - From those, who first with pious reverence stirred The grimy tomes from which reformers' doctrines came. The palace houseth still the Church's head, No longer now a satellite of Rome. Ah ! not in vain the Lollards' blood was shed. Those tomes are open now in every English home. Lo ! near, the patient in the sick-ward shares, St. O Father Thames ! in thy effusive joys, Thomas's ^ ■' ■> ' Hospital. When to the light his folded cot he bears, Aiid with thy ceaseless change his wakening spirit buoys. And as we pass St. Thomas' goodly row. Where Charity is neighbour to the Church, Seen from the bank, at break of day the glow O'er ornate Gothic piles illiimes our gaze's search. THE PALACE OF WESTMINSTER. Before us on the brink a palace stands, Upon whose far-extending lofty walls A tracery wrought by cunning artists' hands, Like web of spider hangs, or veil of maiden falls. And all along this river front we see Casements through which the light goes streaming in; And need there is that there much light should be. Such subtle interests strive for preference within. Long rows of muUions frame full half its space, Which slender pinnacles in line surmount, And sculptured niche, and chiselled statue grace, Whilst rarely carved rich frets the tablets round them mount. Like gems that on a maid are strung so thick. They hide the charms their use is to display, No sight can pierce this fretwork to the quick. And reach the massive stone the bosses hide away. The Thames. 71 And towers above of different grandeurs rise ; One large and square imposes by its mass, One tall and slim shoots upwards to the skies, Others, which yield in size, in ornament surpass ; But m(5st of all one smaller than the rest. More like a Turkish minaret in form, Beneath whose roof the martin builds her nest, And round whose leaf-hewn top the bees are known to swarm. And from the tower which rises tall and slim A booming sound denotes the hour of day ; And when at eve tlie glimmering ray grows dim, A lantern, placed on high, guides wanderers on their way. Within, they settle the affairs of State, Amend the laws, control the nation's purse. Adjust the scales to poise a statesman's fate. Then mete him for his meed, man's worship or a curse. The clear exposure, the convincing speech. The honest purpose, and the vigorous mind. Of fervid eloquence the highest reach, Are in one leader here harmoniously combined. A caustic utterance, wisdom hid in saws. Vast range of rhetoric, talent for surprise, Keen, dazzling logic, sparkling through its flaws. Another place between the witty and the wise. 72 The Thames. Yet other vantage may confer the lead : As where high rank and courtesy refined, Broad acres, and a musty title-deed Show where, with least offence, the rule may be assigned. Nor these alone are masters of debate : With learning this one illustrates a case ; Some are familiar with affairs of State ; [trace. Those through ea.ch ravelled fold intrigue's dark windings Some their discourse with metaphors adorn, Or court good humour with a pungent jest. There, gibes sarcastic wing cold withering scorn ; Here, tersest English gives the closest reasoning zest. But some there are, whose humbler part it is To back their leader with a silent vote, Dry facts accumulate, to make them his, Crabbed figures prompt, which he shall seem to know by rote. And many too, ambitious paths who shun. Assiduous, patient, never-flagging toil. Bring here the worth that elsewhere they have won, Or prove what men be they monopolize the soil. Some men are here by virtue of their birth. And some by favour of the Sovereign's writ. As others through the Church's link to earth. Or through the lawyer's claim to make high judgments fit. The Thames. 73 But hither most by fellow-men are sent, To guard their interests or promote their weal, Control a too ambitious statesman's bent, And make the Crown fulfil wliat freemen think and feel. Within these walls the nation seems to rule, Lord of herself, o'er' subject lands supreme. Stretching her arm, as ocean were her pool, O'er every sea-girt realm near which her pennants stream. Yet are there here two Chambers and a Throne, One simple, where the greatest power resides. The other gorgeous, though less mighty grown. With dais for the seat whence Royalty presides. But faded though the power of lords and king. Which grew so rank here in the days of old. Still from their influence gentle changes spring. Still Revolution's course with reason's rein they hold. Now through the crypt where once Guy Fawkes was hid. The only remnant of St. Stephen's fane. We make our way as once some bold ones did * [tain. When danger dogged their steps, who dared the right main- Though linked the buildings, still how changed the scene ! West- The vast proportions of this ancient hall H^lf "^"^ Are proof of other architects, I ween. Than those who load their lines with ornaments that pall. * Escape of the five members in Charles I.'s reign. 74 The Thames. Warren Hastings. Here stood the despot of our Orient realm, On equal terms to justify his sway With those he did in turbid course o'erwhelm, When thrones he crumbled down and monarchs made obey. And hither, by their fellow-commons sent. The cause of justice truthfully to plead, There came men, leamfed, wise, most eloquent. Whose fiery words emblazed each dark oppressive deed. The Trial of Queen Caroline. In later days another painful scene ; — Abhorred, cast off, of shameful crimes arraigned. If not quite guiltless, yet an injured queen. Whose cause audacious speech and biting taunts sustained. An angry rabble clamouring round the hall ; A foreign witness trifling with the truth ; Dame Justice halting almost to a fall ; An unforgiving king, and husband without ruth. But leave we now this hall, which oftenest serves For his lost footsteps who on justice waits, Knowing she metes to each what each deserves. But for her own delays, nor pays, nor aught abates. Well may old Father Thames be proud of these, Which, knit together, lie upon his shore ; Yet more doth him yon ancient abbey please. Whose arches point on high and pillars heavenward soar. WESTMINSTER ABBEY. In times remote its history begins. The church preceding, here a temple stood, Until converted, — to atone their sins. Men copied out in stone the heathen's holy wood. When pious Edward ruled our Saxon sires, A church was here, already known to fame ; For there they lit the dim funereal fires, [flame. Which, ranged around his corpse, sent up their dismal This church, which was an image of the cross, Became a model to the Saxon land ; And voices sweet from transepts swept across Long aisles and naves, to meet before the altar's stand. Soon by the church a monastery rose Of monks, who followed Benedictine rule ; To pray to Edward, as a saint, they chose. But for the rest they fished in purgatorial pool. 76 The Thames. Then came the Norman, raised a nobler pile, Which gave the royal saint a gorgeous shrine ; For flourished then a rich and graceful style, And masons could construct and architects design. Slowly the Abbey grew, till Henry came. First of the Tudors, in whose reign she made The last addition to her builders' fame. For reverence then began from holy place to fade. Still Henry's Chapel claims the meed of praise, There just proportions chastest chisellings bear, And orient beams through mullioned windows blaze On rare wrought shrine and screen and sculptured figures fair. Another Henry took a different view. Monastic riches were his favourite spoil ; He made the monks their past luxuriance rue. And, from their cloisters, driven for scanty pittance moil. Yet other change befel this ancient church : The monks returned, though only for a time. Too' sober grown their habit still to smirch. So ne'er again did they its sanctity begrime. Cathedral rank the Abbey next attained, For with her wealth one bishop was endowed ; But after his no other head sustained The mitre under which of old her abbots bowed. The Thames. 77 Now it is what collegiate they call : It has a chapter, prebends, and a dean. On whom of bishop no injunctions fall. And fruitful in good works has this survival been. Religion here claims fellowship with truth. When first she goes new regions to explore ; Invites philosophers to say their sooth, And critics bold as sound o'er holy writ who pore. Max Miiller. Colenso. And from the pulpit oft a voice is heard. Good-will commending in a world of strife. Condoning evil to repentance stirred. And marshalling men on the battle-field of life. The Dean (Stanley). There was an age when right divine was thought Inherent to the majesty of kings : Though now no more with such unwisdom fraught. Still kingship courts the force that consecration brings. 'Tis here o'er royal heads the unction flows, Here with an oath kings make their duty fast ; Here prelates' hands the regal crown impose, Whilst through the Abbey wake the echoes of the past. Another holy use the Abbey serves : For here are tombs and cenotaphs of kings ; And niches meet, when statues fame deserves ; . And scrolls for those to whom some tale of virtue clings. 78 The Thames. Here, in relief sometimes a legend lives. Thus in the frieze that runs round Edward's shrine, Some pious hand, with humorous touches, gives A tale of what was thought simplicity divine. The Holy Confessor seems sleeping sound: A thief glides inwards, with no greater noise Than when the mice across the rushes bound, Relieves the money-bags, but minds their equipoise.* Again he comes another stroke to try ; Again his fingers dip into the bags ; A little more in hand, he turns to fly ; Fear prompts to run away, but covetousness lags. Once more he ventures fortune to essay. Then quoth the saint, who but dissembled sleep : "Take all that rests, and hasten thee away, For sure as Hugo comes, he'll let thee nothing keep." And Hugo, coming, missed his master's cash ; The saint said nothing to him of the thief; His virtue stooped not to such mundane trash, E'en those who wronged him most to him were very lief. He does not tell us what the moral is, Who traced this story with his chisel quaint ; Could he have meant it, think you, for a quiz On him who was, at once, King, Confessor, and Saint ? * The bags were hung across the girdle. The Thames. 79 Now mark the tombs of famous martial kings : Here Edward, statesman, warrior, conqueror lies, Who rugged Wales beneath his sceptre brings, And over Scotland far, his royal standard flies. Edward I. He who at Cr^cy saw his troops advance, Led by his son, has here his fitting tomb ; But who at Poitiers broke through serried France, In Kentish soil must seek earth's hospitable womb. Edward III. Black Prince. And Henry too has here his last abode. Who from youth's follies rose at once sublime, From Agincourt to Paris victor strode : Nor has she greater seen e'en in her last sad time. Henry V, And here the realms, which now united form Our Britain, whose last separate sovereigns were Two reigning queens, may patriot memories warm. Where hewn in marble stand the royal rival pair. Their reputations as their fortunes are : Here dignity, discretion and success ; There passions wild which fortune's favours mar, ' Love, beauty, graceful wit, that lead but to distress. Here Cromwell, too, was solemnly interred. Where rests the vault that shades his empty tomb ; But sacrilegious hands his bones have stirred. And, for memorial, left nought but their vacant room. 8o The Thames. Nor kings alone within the Abbey lie ; But all for whom resounds the trump of fame To this last home of England's worthies hie : Though sometimes judgments vile reject the worthier claim. Soldiers are here, renowned by land and sea, And wide explorers of the new-found world ; Patriots immured that others might be free, And scholars, who the rolls of ancient lore unfurled. Around our shores the huge Armada sails, On fields of Flanders our artillery roar. Faced by true English thought, the tyrant quails [soar. Whilst nations gathering strength, preen their soiled wings to Though 'tis not in the Abbey Marlborough rests, Yet Thames may claim some honour in his grave, Which Cherwell's tributary stream invests. Where yet from Blenheim's towers the warrior's banners wave. A great commander, for though few his force. Drawn from the narrow surface of an isle. His genius did not fail of fit resource — Lo ! round his marshal's staff half Europe's armies file. Skilful he wields the foreign soldiers' strength. Welding whole armies with his English bands. Till Louis' fortune's thread, whose vasty length One fav'ring fate had spun, is twirled by adverse hands. The Thames. 8i And brilliant victories by genius won, Where English horse ride down the Gallic line, Drive his spent forces towards the setting sun. From Danube's bank and o'er the legendary Rhine. And rival statesmen near each other sleep : Great Chatham's son, magniloquently stem ; Fox, freedom's friend, whose feelings pure and deep. Wrapt up in words of fire, for human progress yearn. Beneath this slab Sir Isaac Newton lies, The wise interpreter of nature's laws. Whose lofty genius soaring swept the skies. And taught men of the stars all but the First Great Cause ; Of England's great philosophers alone ; Nor Hobbes, nor Bentham, Locke, nor Bacon near. What ! can the Abbey spare no second stone To one who reigns supreme in thought's sublimest sphere ? Here in a corner that is all their own, A favoured throng of tuneful writers lie ; Whilst others have but a memorial stone. But some that live on here do in their verses die. See Chaucer's tomb, — the first of English bards Who in our native tongue his fancies wove ; — And Spenser's too, whose fertile genius guards In rich Archaic verse old Chaucer's treasure-trove. G 8 2 The Thames. Ben Jonson, eke, and Beaumont, in whose lay, Sweet as his name, the copious verses flow. Together moulder, where our steps we stay. For strangely 'neath strange words Ben Jonson stands below.* Next Dryden, founder of another school. Who gave his verses all the force of prose-. So strict was his adherence to the rule, — " His words alone are clear, who his own meaning knows." Yet one we miss, whose tomb is lacking here : By Avon's bank, in Stratford's churchyard, sleeps A greater far than those whose tombs appear ; And o'er his country-grave a simple willow weeps. And though he has a cenotaph among The favoured throng who in the Abbey sleep, The hearts of those who love our English song Throughout the, world's expanse his true memorial keep. Here Milton too 's remembered on a stone. The great, the solemn, the majestic bard. Whose mighty epic, wondrous, shines alone. Unveiling heaven's high court with radiant angels starred. * Ben Jonson is buried standing on a square foot of ground, he had begged from the king. His epitaph is, " O rare Ben Jonson," written by a casual visitor. The Thames. 83 Yet others must we note, whose fame has waned Since with great glory here they came to rest. How little, Cowley, has thy muse retained The laurels that in life waved proudly from her crest. And bards of prose the Abbey's honour share. Aadison. In Henry's Chapel our Boccaccio lies. Who winged his leaves with fancies light as air. And whose unnumbered phrase with poets' rhythm vies. But he whose pliant frame and face mobile, And voice so flexible, that when he played Sobs used to die as laughter used to peal, — Garrick is, poet-like, in Poets' Corner laid. And learning, too, has here a little space ; For Selden sleeps amid the tuneful throng. Whose ponderous tomes those musty records trace, Where poets oft have found the framework of a song. And some there are more recently interred, Whose fame, like wine, still forms its bees-wing crust ; Such should not be as yet too rudely stirred, 'Tis best meanwhile in their enduring glory trust. And others, though almost of equal fame. With marble eyes survey the hallowed ground ; Thus Thackeray's bust seenls to prefer a claim Where Dickens' rival earth an honoured grave has found. 84 The Thames. Though quick the tide of public favour flows, Time on their work no finger-marks has made : Or will it be remembered like De Foe's, Or on the dusty shelf with Richardson's be laid ? WiU kindly Pickwick be ere long forgot, Or take his place by jovial Sir John ? And what of Becky Sharp will be the lot ? Will the Australian youth her acrid wisdom con ? Now, though no monk within the precinct lives, To other uses turned, their haunts remain ; Their hall to which a name Jerusalem gives. For mimic conclaves serves, and legislation vain. West- Where once the novice, now the schoolboy strolls. School' Sleeps over arches of Saint Edward's date. Has printed books in lieu of penmen's scrolls, And privilege to hear th^ Commons in debate. SAINT MARGARET'S CHURCH. Beside the Abbey stands Saint Margaret's fane, For those who fled to sanctuary built ; For though round Peter's church they could remain, There was no room within to harbour all their guilt. In later times, the Commons came to pray And hear their preachers preach within these walls. The Enghsh tongue gave forth the Hebrew lay. And sternly pious men abode celestial calls. 'Twas here, with hands uplift, the Commons swore Their Solemn League and Covenant to keep ; 'Twas here, one boon a preacher asked them for,* Made on these stem men's bones the flesh afirighted creep. Here Raleigh's headless trunk was stowed away. And corpses from the Abbey found a grave, When it of those exhumed the mouldering clay. Whom God it thought should be too orthodox to save. * Hugh Peters passionately called for "speedy, condign, and capital punishment " to be awarded to Charles I. THE STRAND. A little further, near Thames' rolling stream, All that remains of Whitehall meets the eye, Where Charles unflinching saw the axe-head gleam, And craven heart resolved the Second James to fly. Yet leave we not too far our river's shore, Though park and la^e and palaces are near. And soldiei-s in the panoply of war. And public buildings vast and mansions grand appear. 'Tis told that here Canute defied the tide* Until its head was level with his thighs. When either of itself it did subside, Or the beflattered king did suddenly grow wise. Then water-fowl in marshes used to breed. Enjoy the tide, and float upon its brim ; And Thames had once its salmon like the Tweed, Which wonted were in shoals by Westminster to swim ; * This story is told of the Thames at Westminster as well as of the sea-coast. The Thames. 87 And many a monk has seen their graceful leap, And thrown a line to catch the dainty prize Or drawn a net across the teeming deep, That convent stew* might greet his fasting brethren's eyes. Along the strand a line of houses grew, Each with its precincts and its water-gate. Through which the inmates went, as roads were few. To where the water-way more smoothly bore their state. But none of these is what it was of old ; — The private dwelling of a rich grandee In one that stands, the tellers' tales are told, Somerset And clerks bent o'er accounts the slightest error see. Its grand fagade, in rich Italian style. With classic columns still confronts the stream ; Where are the rest ? Full many a splendid pile, With masks and revels gay, is vanished as a dream. The last we mourn, Northumberland's, is gone To make a clearance for a Boulevard, Will that be half so fair to look upon As Percy's lines have been and Somerset's still are ? Store-ponds usually attached to monasteries. THE EMBANKMENT. Where erst the river beat upon its strand, Now an embankment stints old Thames's bed ; And roads there are, and acres of dry land, Where many a gutter once its foul ingredients sped. Deep in the earth, another river rolls Its filthy volume to the distant sea, Whose fatal liberty man so controls, None need its fetid breath or loathsome aspect flee. With those of Rome the culvert may compare, In which it glides along its shelving bed, Whose close-knit walls, confining the rank air. Let not the demon plague his foul infection spread. Another gallery the embankment hides, For in its womb an iron road is wrought ; On slippery rails the ponderous engine glides, With merchant princes or with speculators fraught. The Thames. 89 Upon the surface splendid plantains grow, And garden flowers make the embankment gay ; With sparkling water marble fountains flow, [Mayor's day. , And pageants wend their course when comes the Lord Here, Thames, to thee from Nile an einvoy comes, Cleopa- ■^ tra'sNee- As at Its zenith he would greet thy power, die; Proud that not wholly yet his own succumbs, [hour. Although no waves with his can boast their fame's brief When from her monolith his queen looks down On freedom's breath ennobling human toU, Will she prefer slaves cowed by tyrant's frown And heaven-appointed caste for ever doomed to moil ? THE BRIDGES. Across the river meaner quarters lie, And many hives of industry are there, To which, at early dawn, the labourers hie, Whilst yet the mist hangs low, and flickering gas-lights flare. And many bridges span the stately stream ; Some, from high piers suspended in the air. So lofty are, that boats beneath them seem .Like toys to fancy made in parti-coloured ware. On arches others stretch from side to side, Of ruddy granite or white free-stone made. Of such great height that 'neath rigged barges ride On crest of tidal wave with deck-piled freight o'erlaid. From shore to shore the level road extends, Which scarcely holds the crowd that presses on Marshalled in lines, each way the traffic wends, Till to his evening's rest the journeyman has gone. The Thames. 9 1 On some, which to the iron road belong, Aloft, the sputtering locomotive goes, Takes to our southern coast. a worn-out ihrong, Or brings some exile here to air his country's woes. Such are these bridges when, by light of day. The buzz of men is on them and around ; But oh ! how changed the long and lonely way When gloomy night has hushed the busy bustling sound. Then draggled wretches come to seek repose Beneath dry arches, or within the bays. And to the moon their drowsy eyelids close, Lest she, the sleep they woo, scare with her silver rays. When the night air no orb of heaven illumes. With furtive steps the murderer onward steals ; Dropt from some lonely bay, the wave entombs The gory proof he dreads, but leaves the fear he feels. Here the hard world's rejected sisters wait, Who seek in vice a refuge from themselves. With long repining rue their wretched state. And fain would kiss the soil some jilted lover delves. Some here obey the promptings of despair : Shorn of their beauty, left without a friend, Refused at home, when vice forbids her lair. Foiled of repentance, these in unrepentance end. 92 The Thames. With quivering frame and hunger-pinchfed maw, Slow faltering, some along the pathway creep ; Rage and remorse their withered bosoms gnaw ; All that they hope from death is an unending sleep. Some scan the water sternly from above. Confront its terrors with unflinching mind, Give one sad thought to disappointed love. And dare to hope below some favouring god to find. 7HE CITY OF LONDON. This city without bishops leaving now, We enter one of e'en more ancient fame, Built on a soil which never knew the plough, A British town before Rome's conquering eagles came. London, thy fame so wedded is to his Who on thy shore his wealth-conferring flood Perpetual pours, — ^which by the ocean is Rolled back along thy quays, fraught deep with all the good That commerce brings to those who court her smiles With steady mind and persevering toil. Good faith, acuteness not allied to wiles. And boldness to project, and caution to recoil. That it should be the jewel of my song, And if I could discover from old time The date to which thy first rude walls belong, Then might I reckon thence the epochs of my rhyme : 94 The Thames. And as from Rome's foundation Romans date, So might I say, at such a year from thine A British king here fixed his regal state. Or first a bark was built that floated to the brine : Or count the years till subject Southwark rose To pay thee homage from the' opposing shore, Or bridge first spanned the bed wherein Thames flows. And o'er his surging wave the rattling chariots bore : Or tell thine age, when round her Abbey grew Thy younger sister's sparse incipient town, And when to her thy sovereign's court withdrew. And made her but than thee less in the world's renown. And, like a beadroll, palaces between In one great capital combined the twain, And all the intervening meadows green Were lost to thee and thine, as she enclosed the plain : Or count the years until thy suburbs spread To rustic villages, which then became. As through their lanes the busy builder sped, Oblivious of themselves in all except a name — As when there rises from some low estate A rich man, who ignores his humble kin. And o'er his heirship subtle men debate. Their guiding clue must from the dead man's name begin ; The Thames. 95 So when topographers a boundary trace The vasty labyrinth of houses through, Which covers what was once an open space, 'Tis some poor hamlet's name that furnishes the clue — Or reckon when thy suburbs reached the hills Whose graceful slopes Thames richest basin hem, But which no more send forth those diamond rills * That wreathed themselves around the chief and central gem, * Westboum, Kilboum, Tyboum, St. Maryboiirn, Holebourn. THE TEMPLE. Who enters London by the Thames perceives A garden thinly sprinkled with old trees, On which look forth from under dingy eaves, Pale studious faces, keen, to sip the morning breeze; Here in our early youth some years we spent, Ambition's ladder all before us stretched : But though we were upon its heights intent, Us from its lowest round, no favouring spirit fetched. These gardens, which almost the river skirt, And did of yore abut the swollen tide, Though now begrimed by smoky London dirt. Recall the days that saw the knight-monk in his pride. For here in splendour the knights-templar bode. Till doubtful charges brought their state so low They bowed their necks to dire oppression's load. And, though protesting still, let all, save honour, go. The Thames. 97, Their church, disfigured once, is now revealed To an aesthetic age. Its walls laid bare. Its tapering columns, with their signet sealed. Refurbished and unveiled shine with an orient air. But now another congregation pray Where Templars once their nightly vigils kept; Religion sanctions Law's benignant sway. Where rang the clang of arms, while Justice turned and wept. Yet there is something underlies this change, As Janus' body did the double face ; It makes the metamorphosis less strange, That civil courage now has taken valour's place. Still fresh in memory is the sage reproof. By a chief judge addressed to one who saw The negro trampled by the spoiler's hoof. Nor seemed to know that he should share an equal law. Nor fades the memory of those darker days. When courage stood the counsellor in need To foil oppression's crooked shifting ways. And set the patriot free fair freedom's cause to speed. Nor need we wander from our river far To miss another relic of the past. Where crushing, crowding, stuck at Temple Bar, Traffic, both quick and slow, in one great jumble fast. H 98 - The Thames. Here when the sovereign came, a door was shut, And even soldiers did a point concede, To civil step set down their martial strut. And the court followed, where it saw the city lead. Lo ! near the spot new halls to Themis rise, Where ravelled courts the cumbrous learning fold. Such higher thought, will future judges prize. As bred their wisdom, who her charters first unrolled ? Blackfriars. But now we tread a strange half-holy ground, Whence justice was excluded by the Church Through friars, who were so good, they shed around A charm to shield the bad and their wronged victims lurch. For in the ages when wild vengeance ruled, 'Twas not thought wrong that churches should afford A refuge to the hunted wretch who puled Repentant tears before the all-forgiving Lord. 'Twas mercy tempering justice in a way Which suited with a rude barbaric age, Ere at the judgment-seat she might essay To counsel clemency or moderation sage. ^7. PAUL'S. And now beyond the entrance to a bridge, Which just outside the sanctuary lies, A steep inchne ascends a lofty ridge Whence, o'er the stream, the view extends to southern skies. Successive churches long have crowned this hill, By Briton, Roman, and by Saxon built ; — Fit site for prayer against impending ill, Or public penance put on great offender's guilt. The stream below, the city spread around. The varied landscape stretching far away Till distant hUIs the further prospect bound. To worship raised their hearts, and bent their souls to pray. At last a church in Gothic style arose. Vast in extent, harmonious in detail. Where pillars facing pillars stood in rows. And round the altar ran a richly sculptured rail. lOO The Thames. And from its hill, on Westminster it looked, Whose chimes on holy days responsive rang ; For though the abbey church no master brooked. Its peal with Paul's was joined in one melodious clang. Already had this minster touched decay. When lurid flames throve on its wooden spire. And, crumbling fast, the groined roof fell away. And the old Gothic pile cracked to the roaring fire. Yet though in part it was a rotten thing, So welded were its outer walls and thick. That need there was a battering-ram to bring Before they could knock down the old cemented brick. Nor did it burn until it was profaned : In this old church of mediaeval times. Their horses Roundheads to the rack had chained, And wits, in Charles's time, declaimed their wanton rhymes. Sir Here Pepys came to take his evening walk, Samuel p^^ t^^^^ ^^ ^iffii, and gossip of the day ; Or with some scandal-mongering man to talk. For thence profaneness scared the gentler sex away. Now on this summit a cathedral stands, Which never echoed to a Roman Mass, Which Peter's fane, that looks on Tiber's strands, Does scarcely in due fame of just proportions pass. The Thames. loi Its lofty dome, its large recumbent cross By nave and transepts formed, its chiselled choir, Though there no thurifers their censers toss, Are aids to those whose minds to holy thoughts aspire. An airy lantern o'er the dome is seen; On which, at dawn, the sun's first rays are shed, Through which, at eve, the day's last parting sheen Gleams, when his lucent orb's diurnal course is sped. No church so grand have the Reformers raised. Nor here nor in the distant Teuton land ; If now in modern rival God is praised, 'Tis one, I trow, which bears the unbeliever's brand. Two glorious temples, on the banks of Seine, The Pan- Of later date, in grandeur may compare, TheMade- But not as proofs of faith, with Thames's fane, leine. For when they first arose no God was worshipped there. Far o'er the city, and along the stream, Beyond the plain where Epping's Chase extends. The vast cathedral's bellying segments gleam. Where, with refulgent bronze, gold's yellow radiance blends. A simple cross surmounts the lanterned dome, A symbol of the thought which here prevailed When England most abhorred the ways of Rome, And, save this symbol bare, each holy image veiled. I02 The Thames. Some worthy bishops filled this ancient see Before and since the word fi-om Luther came, Though martyred Ridley seems alone to be In leaving a well-earned imperishable name. And to this mightiest fane of modern times Still clings the name the old cathedral bore ; 'Tis still St. Paul's — a name that haply chimes With views that would that name St. Peter's put before. Though in her vaults no ashes now are found Of those whom dim antiquity revered ; , To some in latter days the most renowned, Grand monumental tombs art's votive hand has reared. Here Nelson lies, the glorious and the brave, O'er England's cherished element supreme. When through the Gallic war she ruled the wave, And turned to nought of France the proud imperial dream. Though far away the gallant hero fell. Where purple waves engulphed the meaner dead, The proud ship, rising o'er the ocean's swell, [fled. Bore home his corse, when those he conquered turned and In fight he fell, whilst still the battle raged. But life held on until the shout arose From every ship, that war for England waged Of lowered flags that bowed from French and Spanish foes. The Thames. 103 A crowning victory : for, this battle won, No fleet but England's durst essay the sea. The hero died, but his great work was done : Time worked the rest, and then again the world was free. Beside him here the aged soldier sleeps, Welling- . (In the dark crypt we saw his shroud descend, ) who long survived the day when slaughtered heaps Did his ensanguined course to victory portend. Before his stroke imperial France went down. When great Napoleon, prompted by despair. Had snatched once more the Bourbon's tottering crown, And the old legions did united Europe dare. Then peace came forth with halcyon wing to leq,d The weary nations to their long sought rest, And wealth increased (untroubled labour's meed), And Europe breathed again, long by the sword oppressed. And lo ! beside these mighty warriors sleep Some who in peaceful arts have gained renown ; Reynolds, whose colours transient feelings keep. As love's contented smile, or moping exile's frown.* And he, the architect who built this fane. Wren, fitly resting in the vault below : Where is his monument ? Look ! not in vain. From all his work around the builder's praises flow. * The "Banished Lord." I04 The Thames. And here iij marble Johnson pondering stands, In morals great, but greater still in words ; For all our tongue was marshalled by his hands, As in mosaic work are ranged the potter's sherds ; Faithful to London : in his club supreme, Where lettered friends in social converse joined. When Boswell made the sage's talk his theme, And treasured for the world the wisdom he purloined. Next, Howard see, the prisoners' gentle friend. Whose face benignant, in the fetid cell. On wretches beamed, — who all their sorrows penned, And words of solace spoke their maddened rage to quell. And statues rise to men of lesser note. For here 'tis said the architect designed (As in his neighbour's eye who saw the mote) No gaud of frescoes should of Roman suns remind. Above, along the wall, from end to end, Low uttered whispers through a gallery run. Soft as the breath repentant sinners send Into the only Ear their conscience does not shun. ST. PAUL'S CROSS. And in the churchyard formerly there stood, Since as before the old creed passed away, Of very ancient date a holy rood, Where pious men were wont at times to preach and pray. Kings met their people here, in time of eld ; But the Third Henry found the crowd so great, That since no such assemblies have been held In precincts closed within the great cathedral's gate. 'Twas here a sad solemnity took place. When cruel Glo'ster ruled in Edward's name ; He, that he might his brother's name debase, Condemned the dame he loved — ^his favourite — to shame. Accused of witchcraft, but accused in vain, The late king's comely leman, Mistress Shore, Must as a penitent walk round the fane Barefoot, in kirtle clad, but clothed in nothing more. io6 The Thames. But when beneath the cross she took her stand, So fair, so modest, so demure she looked, That those who came her wickedness to brajid, Condoned, and not a wqrd against her would have brooked. And. still she is remembered in our songs : No royal wanton is more famed in verse. For to the drama her strange fate belongs, Which few have had so high, as none more sad reverse. If Rowe speak truth, 'twas in the street she died. Ere beauty yet had faded from her cheek, With her last breath to heaven she wretched cried, But what response there was it is not ours to seek. When first the Bible spoke our English speech, Here to Paul's Cross the holy book was broyght ; But not to search for texts on which to preach, — Far other were the ends which then the churchmen sought. They deemed the Bible such a dangerous book For simple folk, who knew no learned tongue, That as a living heretic they took It, where live men had been by flaming fire-brands stung. And soon it was enveloped in the flames, And all its precious workmanship destroyed ; But Wickliffe failed not in his highest aims. His doctrines lived and rose by persecution buoyed. The Thames. 107 Then Wolsey came, and Luther was denounced With high anathema in Paul's churchyard ; But Wolsey fell, and England soon renounced A Church whose marriage-laws were for her king too hard. And preachers Harry sent to Paul his cross. To prove that Rome was but a common see, And all its great pretensions lawless- dross. As to himself belonged the sole supremacy. THE CITY. Around this hill the tide of commerce flows, Floods all the brilliant bustling thoroughfares, And eddies o'er crooked lanes and narrow rows, Where in some dingy court dark schemers spin their snares. In solemn streets the gloomy warehouse lowers On the vexed merchant who, with burning brain, Goes where his golden stream the usurer pours, That tempts adventure on to risk its all for gain. Here still the sound of Bow bells may be heard. To live within whose boom implies one is A citizen or cockney — that's the word Which courtiers use in scorn when citizens they quiz ; Forgetting that their train-bands' martial fame. With knights' or yeomen's did not fear compare ; That oft they swayed the rival Roses' claim, Nor failed through freedom's strife their tattered flag to bear. The Thames. 109 Nor far from hence the edifices stand, By prosperous traders to great Plutus raised. Here ingots buy the rags that bear his brand ; There by his shghtest nod each subtle scheme's appraised. And near them every project is conceived, To pierce a mountain or to a bridge a sea, — Things that till done can hardly be believed, — Are found through Plutus' aid a possibility. But schemes there are like addled eggs, that fail. And, when the happier comrades of the nest High soaring, spread their wings upon the gale, Appear as still-born things, with rottenness confessed. And foreign statesmen angle here for loans. Using for bait exuberant returns, Which perhaps to pay, the swarthy fellah moans, As he to fertile fields the desert's edges turns ; Or wasteful war consumes the borrowed hoard, And they who had it can no longer pay ; Or half its promised yield at best afford,. And bid the lender wait a more auspicious day. Thus swollen incomes tempting the half rich. To rekl poverty too oft consign Those who despise the old surroundings, which - Their wiser fathers thought luxurious and fine. no The Thames. Nor far from here was distant India ruled, When, merchant princes holding sovereign power, Hosts were subdued and princes were befooled, As they could snatch from gain the rare fast fleeting hour. OLD LONDON BRIDGE. Now let us go once more unto the brink, To cast a glance on Thames's southern side : 'Tis Southwark, vassal like, with feudal link [tied. To her great neighbour's rule through musty parchments In days gone by, when still the old bridge stood, A street between them joined the twain in one ; Ndught saw the passing traveller of the flood That flowed beneath his feet, nor recked its furious run. On either side, the road with shops was lined, And tradesmen's dwellings that above them rose j Not mean ones either, for in one we find A former Lord Mayor dwelt, whose wealth this story shows. Sir William Hewitt and Dame Alice kept A mercer's shop upon Old London Bridge ; And where their goods were, there they dined and slept, So that no travel might their working hours abridge; 1 1 2 The Thames. With them a youngster, eighteen years of age, Of gentle birth, apprenticed to the trade, Lived, served, and learnt, for learning was his wage. And of his master's house free as a son was made. An only daughter blessed this late Lord Mayor ; Just sixteen summers had the maiden seen When Edward came, and found her face so fair, His truant thoughts from her he never more could wein. A little bird belonged to Mistress Anne (For that was hers as Edward was his name), Its freedom cabined by a cage's span, It loved the fresh free air that through its prison came. And Mistress Anne was wont to put the pet Outside her window to enjoy the breeze, When from the fields along the stream it set. And to the bird brought thoughts of nestling in the trees. But once she leaned a long way out, to reach The peg on which she used the cage to hang. And, toppling over, fell out, with a screech Which echoed from the arch and through the welkin rang. Just as this happened, in a room below. Close to the open casement Edward stood ; What took him there just then we do not know. But there he heard her screech and saw her cleave the flood. The Thames. 1 1 3 Then, quick as thought, he followed in her wake, And through the arch he made so quick a run. Hold of her hair he was in time to take. Ere yet to suck her down the gurgling wave had spun. A passing barge received the rescued girl, And bore her, with him, to the nearest stair, Whence, as her senses still were in a whirl. He needs must to their home the dripping burden bear. A little inkling p'rhaps had Mistress Anne, That something more than duty moved the youth; And as she felt his breath her tresses fan. His secret longings turned her gentle heart to ruth. Soon good Sir William gave them leave to wed. And nothing loath was she with him to mate; Dame Alice begged a blessing on his head. As to this more than son she left her daughter's fate. Then little thought they of the high degree The issue of this union would attain, And that a ducal house's lineal tree Would spring from roots that lay embodied in this twain. SOUTH WARE. A level road that spreads from shore to shore, With wider arches, bridges now the stream ; No quaint old house or shop or merchant's store Fantastic shadow throws beneath the bright moonbeam. But, as we leave it, still a church we see, In ancient times already seated there, So fashioned now within, it seems to be Restored to what of old its inward beauties were. Here through the ages Gower's dust has been, Who to our language brought his verse's aid ; And though his fame is lost in Chaucer's sheen, 'Tis hallowed ground in which so old a bard is laid. . So ancient is this site, 'twas used ere yet Builders their joists above the water bent, When on the brink a simple ferry met The few who rarely then on dangerous travel went. The Thames. 115 Soon holy monks around the site sojourned, Monastic buildings fringed the house of prayer, All this is gone j but something has returned, For now the matin-bells oft-times are sounded there. If now through Southwark's street our footsteps stray, We reach the inn where Chaucer's pilgrims met To rule o'ernight the order of their way, That in the mom. no strife their journeying might let. When in the court at morn their palfreys neighed, '^^ The Tabard's host would bid them no farewell, Inn. Though he had amply to their wants purveyed. And counselled them besides the stories they should tell. A goodly company they went I ween. To kneel in homage at the martyr's shrine. Not all austere, of sanctified demean, [divine. For some there were whose thoughts were not of things All sorts they were, both clerical and lay. Nuns, and the wife with husbands five, in file. Mine host himself to guide them on their way, And many more who did the longsome road beguile. THE GLOBE THEATRE. Not far from here, and close upon the stream, Will Shakespear's playhouse stood, yclept the Globe, And fitly so, for there, as in a dream, Worlds strutted on the boards beneath the player's robe. They played the parts which kings and potent lords Had played before them, where no fiction lent Its music to subdue the jarring- chords. Which with the just renown of their great deeds were blent. Not distant then the glory of those wars Which Henry waged to win himself a throne Beyond the sea which circles England's shores, In vain. Still to herself sufficeth she alone. Still nearer was the tale of civil broils. Of murdered infants, and that royal line With whom were ended war's ensanguined toils, And strife from mundane things transferred to things divine. The Thames. 1 1 7 And though he had Uved, and played, and written plays In bluff King Harry's virgin daughter's reign, Yet later he the unapproved ways, Her father kept with queens, durst on his stage arraign. Thus in that favoured time the people heard Those, whose great deeds were still in memory green, Their thoughts, exalted by the poet's word. In noble passion clothe or majesty serene. When Lear abandoned steps on Shakespear's stage, 'Tis but an older history they see ; Macbeth 's a Briton of another age ; His Romans, heroes are of proud antiquity. They list in rapture to the flowing line, Feel every scene as none have felt them since ; O'er Lear's afflictions droop their weeping eyne. Do not o'er FalstafFs woe their roaring laughter mince. So tnie to nature is their favourite bard, That write he ne'er so well, a thing of course It seems to them, to whom no work seems hard \Vhich gushes from the pool where genius has her source. The Jew, the Moor, the lovely Juliet eke. Are all so full of life, the things they do. The words in which their deep moved passions speak, So fashioned are, it seems none other could be true. 1 i8 , The Thames. So nature's outcome are, — make she or rnar, Fantastic Hamlet, melancholy Jaques, The poet's arts in all so hidden are, Men feel as from themselves the thoughts that he awakes. If others trod too near the master's heels, 'Tis that the simple folk no critics were ; The finest critic is not he who feels : Where love pervadeth all, faultfinding has no share. We must not tarry here to speak of those Who were the planets circling round his sun. Or lesser stars that in his wake arose, Though they no rivals found when his great course was run. Enough, their wit and humour, and the verse Which flows so sweetly through their ancient plays, The lively dialogues, prose strong and terse. Had on those boards a charm unknown to later days. THE MONUMENT. But once again must we Thames' waters pass Upon the bridge from whence our view extends, Where granite girds the stream with ponderous mass, Or o'er the pool where smoke with rising vapour blendb Below this bridge a towering column staiids, Which told the story of that raging fire Which through the city bore its lurid brands, Red ruin in its train and desolation dire. It did not tell a tale in all things true. Pope scathed the falsehood in his caustic verse, Such writers teaching slander to eschew, And trust the simple truth to make their wording terse. Then havoc wild ran riot through the flames ; Close-packed, the houses crumbled to his hand ; Whole quarters perished, leaving senseless names. And still his stormy breath the conflagration fanned. I20 The Thames. Three days it raged, and smoke obscured the sun, — Three nights were lit up with its ghastly light, — Ere his full course the monster having run, Went forth some other land with tongues of fire to blight. With treasure laden far the wealthy flew ; The poor, unsheltered rested in the fields ; Yet not unmixed the evil they did rue. For e'en destruction's self some consolation yields. THE PLAGUE. For through the city stalked another guest, Whose visit (ended ere the fire began) Had left behind a foul, unhealthy zest. Which made the air he breathed bring misery to man. Then round those homes suspicion lingered still, Uneasy, scared, inquisitive, and vague. Where late had been, his filthy paunch to fill With meat of poor man's flesh, the all-devouring plague. A gloom hung o'er the rooms where many died, And rare survivors vainly mourned the dead ; Each crannied hole some dangerous germ might hide. From which the fell disease once more its roots might spread. But when these plague spots cumbered not the soil. Less gloomy dwellings rose upon their site, And ampler chambers gave the sons of toil. Worn out by sultry day, the fresh cool air of night. 1 2 2 The Thames. And though in later times, from distant Ind, All veiled in gteen, the hideous monster came, Yet were the ranks of death by prudence thinned. And life flowed on around, and all things seemed the same. Then gentle nurses smoothed the sick man's bed. And skilled physicians strove his life to save. Then mercy hailed the children of the dead. And reverend lips read words of comfort o'er his grave. How changed since then, when those who were in health Shrank from all contact with a smitten wretch, Unless they were marauders of his wealth, Or pardoned felons come his putrid corpse to fetch. For driven by these the fetid wagon went Each midnight on its slow and dismal round, To gather corpses, in coarse canvas pent. Which festered ere they reached their horrid burial-ground. THE MINT. Now towards tlie east a building rises, where Pure molten gold pours forth its yellow stream, On which with greedy eyes the workmen stare, When issuing from the mould its shining circles gleam. There fluid silver forms refulgent lakes, Whilst bronze and copper stand in tawny pools ; Of these each from the brand its value takes. Of gold alone the worth or weight or measure rules. THE TOWER. But now behold v/here frowning ramparts lower, And walls, whose shades the rippling waters whelm. Far off projected from that massive tower. The conquering Norman built to hold his subject realm. Within this fortress dwelt those Norman kings ■\^^lo felt their hold of England insecure, Ere yet the strength from loyalty that springs. Was welded with their rule to make it fast and sure. In later times, when foul rebellion drove, Affrighted kings sought shelter from its walls, Whilst hostile forces round their refuge strove. Now rebel knights, and now vindictive angry thralls. In dungeons here lay prisoners of state, Whose lonely hours, slow creeping sadly passed. Abortive hopes foreshadomng their fate, Until they almost hailed their dismal doom at last. The Thames. 125 To the Fifth Edward it was all in one, A palace, and a prison, and a tomb ; For here that uncle's murderous work was done. Whose soul was darker than the all-surrounding gloom. In those long wars where roses badges were, When o'er its rival the white rose prevailed, His gracious sire had filled the royal chair, Till on his death the boy was king of England hailed. Just thirteen years of life had Edward spent, But not one year of these upon the throne. When, by his uncle in this prison pent. He found his rest of days with sorrow overgrown. And with him here his younger brother lay, By false pretence from sanctuary ta'en. That he should share the glory of the day. When sanctified by oil, would be his brother's reign. Then to the throne the bold usurper stepped. And hid his nephews from the public view ; But o'er their fate full many a subject wept. And bit by bit the frame of their sad story grew. To his young charge the Constable was bland, And they to him by childish grace endeared ; Yet nought availed it when with stern command, The bad usurper's men before his door appeared. 126 The Thames. The little princes, in each other's arms, Were softly sleeping in their downy bed, When rustling noises woke their quick alarms, And through the darkling room a lamp's dim light was shed. Masked were the ruffians, for they did not dare With face uncovered meet their infant king, They knew that unabashed they could not bear The radiance royal eyes, as yet unsullied, fling. No blood was shed, no dreadful dagger gleamed, The down they lay on served the murderers' need ; And scarcely knew they if they waked or dreamed. Ere these two ruthless men had done their deadly deed. Within the Tower they, dug their king a grave. Where all must tread who mount the winding stair ; Then to them both one chest for coffin gave, And back to Gloucester's court with sullen steps did fare. When delving here in Charles the Second's reign, A labourer dug up a worm-eaten chest. In which long time two skeletons had lain, One brotherly reclined upon the other's breast. Nor has the Tower to queens less fatal been. liere two of Henry's roll succumbed to fate : Anne Boleyn, whom love made his second queen. Fair Catherine Howard, too, the fourth to share his state. The Thames. 127 Of Catherine's death no circumstance is known, But of Queen Anne's this story has been told : That when she knelt beside the trough of stone, She showed the smallest neck e'er headsmfin did behold. And others fair and noble met their doom. When headsman's axe and dungeon's fetid air, In dim and shadowy form, were wont to loom Beside the favourite's stool, behind the statesman's chair. Here Walter Raleigh languished fifteen years, In sad requital of those gallant deeds Done where the equator's line divides the spheres. And Orinoco's stream thewide Atlantic feeds. 'Twas here his famous history he wrote, That the dull hours might swifter pass away ; Debarred from action, here he loved to quote What other heroes had done in the by-gone day. Released awhile, from cruel death reprieved, ' He crossed once more the huge Atlantic wave, For still in mines he sanguinely believed. Whose treasures should suffice his forfeit life to save. Foiled — here he came his humbled head to lay. For nought availed to save it from the block ; The soothing leaf that drives dull care away, Or the good root which proved a too prolific stock. 128 The Thames. So quickly grew this root, it soon became The cheapest esculent on which the young Who fondly basked in Hymen's virtuous flame, Could feed the hungry broods from early marriage sprung. Fast as the root the population grew, And furnished men to serve in bloody wars, And cheapened labour, till its produce drew, All like a magnet, gold from farthest foreign shores. Then came a little insect ; as a bhght It settled on the root. Sir Walter's gift. The only food of many a hapless wight Its easy culture lured from industry and thrift ; And famine roamed ferocious through the land, Destroying many, driving more away ; And exiled millions sailed from Erin's strand. Ere all a country's care its ravages could stay. A mildei: fortune met the other plant. First, it survived the royal pedant's blast, As sects survive the persecutor's cant. And all the big foul words at new ideas cast. Soon it became a favourite with men, Nor did distinguish any man's degree ; Though, like the dog which helps the blind man's ken, 'Tis helpfullest to those whom joy or plenty flee. The Thames. 129 And like a pet it has its little name, The precious plant's familiarly a "weed ;" And as a minion is the patron's shame, Both health and wealth does in excess towards ruin speed. But half the world regard it as a plague : The women call the weed " a nasty thing," When through the air its essence floating vague, Does to their nostrils fine its sickly odour bring. Here died the rebel of Queen's Mary's reign, Wyatt, whose Kentish followers vainly sought To crown the brows of artless Lady Jane, [nought. Lest Mary throned should turn her brother's reign to Here Burdett came, the idol of the mob. Defiance breathing all along his way ; Where sterner hearts had quailed, his did not throb, — But then of course he knew he had not come to stay. Nor must we pass the little chapel by. To Peter sacred and to Peter's chains, Where martyred queens and guilty traitors lie, And of one poet's dust a little still remains : For in this chapel, now to art restored. With its oid tombs revealed. Lord Surrey sleeps, A poet as a general and a lord, Whose verse's ancient form its stately measure keeps. K I3U Ihe Thames. Now leave we by, where many entered in, The Traitor's Gate, from which a gully runs Down to the Thames's eddying waves that spin By the huge rampart where still bristle the old guns. THE POOL. From London Bridge unto the distant sea, Old Father Thames has never yet been spanned ; And, as of old, his waters still are free To ships of every size and flags of every land. Here in the pool a throng of steamers lie, Where all around the halls of commerce rise. Here private stores with public buildings vie, Whilst traffic ebbs and flows, assuming every guise. Here, nigh the river, a great building spreads Its vast dimensions on the southern shore. Where two great railways rest their iron heads. Whose serpent trunks disperse the wealth of Thames's store. And in the City, on the river's brink, A grand palatial edifice extends, The Where foreign merchants' tribute money chink : Custom For toll still they must pay for our financial ends. 132 The Thames. 'Twas otherwise of old ; for then they paid To carry out a politic device Imagined to protect the native trade By forcing foreign goods up to a fancy price. Cobden. A Statesman bom, reared in a humble sphere, Proved it a fallacy that nations gain By making what they are in want of dear, And showed free trade alone the masses could sustain. And since the natipn followed his advice, Wealth has increased and luxury has grown ; And some that wanted then, are now so nice. They choose the choicest cut who erewhile picked the bone. See lower down, where larger vessels lie. The busy lighters ease them of their freight, And to the shore or through the arches ply. Or leave the river by some inland water gate. Here, where large ships are sailing to and fro, Thames A subway burrows underneath the Thames ; "°"^ • It was a wonder some few years ago, [temns. Though now the travelling Swiss p'rhaps passes and con- THE DOCKS. Upon our left, resembling groups of woods, Save that tall masts take place of forest trees, Large docks there are which shelter from the floods, Ships wearily erewhile tossed on tempestuous seas. From various^ lands and various climes they hail, And many races mingle in their crews. The swarthy negro, the Norwegian pale. The dusky Arab, and all Asia's tawny hues. And many forms, and many strange costumes, And many grades of nakedness and dress, And of narcotics many sorts of fumes, Their places in the scale of cultured men express. In motley groups upon the decks they bask, When shines the sun or blows the gentle breeze ; No longer summoned to the daily task. They, while the shoremen work, luxuriate at their ease. 1 34 The Thames. Around these docks a humble quarter Hes, Where trade is petty, and where poor abound ; Away, the rich man's profit with him flies, And here at home there are none but the needy found. Save one : his lot to struggle in the crowd. Of tender nurture, and of gentle blood. Such learning as would make another proud, And wealth enough to float through life upon the flood. Hard by the church his comely dwelling stands. Where many go for comfort and advice ; Where some find mercy dealt by careful hands, All in his kindly words a jewel without price. And in the church his ministry commends The lowly virtues that befit their state To those he knows no power on earth befriends. And bids them look beyond and hope a better fate. Not cold devotions ring round naked walls ; A little ornament the Vicar loves ; K-ing David's verse in softest cadence falls. And from the incensed roof peep down the sculptured doves. THE ISLE OF DOGS AND THE RIVER LEA. Now Thames and Lea a low flat island bound. Where, at his mouth, Lea's spreading waters branch. From it we hear the shipwright's hammer sound, And happen we may see some new-built vessels launch. From pretty Hertford comes Lea's crystal stream, Flowing by Ware,* where travellers used to rest In such a bundle, that they could but dream They were already by crowds in the City pressed : And thence by Walthamstow, whose famous cross Still shows the honours paid to Edward's queen ; And is so grand, that where an equal loss A royal trophy claimed, it has a model been : Then skirting Epping, where the forest trees Still lure the cockney to their friendly shade ; Though now no wild deer sniff the morning breeze, Or baying hounds pursue their quarry through the glade, * " The great bed of Ware " accommodated twenty persons. It was the last resting place of pedestrians on their way to London. 136 The Thames. Threads through the dusky suburb his sad way, Regretting the green meadows and the woods, Though in his waters still the children play, To where in Thames's bed he pours his broken floods. Here mighty merchants build the craft that bear Their precious ventures o'er the treacherous deep ; Here foreign states for naval war prepare. And from the decks of ships the bristling cannon peep. Once this ship-building was a greater trade, And ships more numerous were upon the stocks. Till foolish workmen rash pretensions made, — [shocks ; As, that when business quailed, they should not feel its But lessened profits equal wage should )deld, And all the loss fall on the master's share ; The masters then found out another field In the far north, and built their future vessels there. DEPTFORD. A royal dockyard lined the southern shore, When, 'mid the throng, a czar of Russia wrought As to the source he would a channel bore, [taut ; Whence sprang the force which made this island realm so And so succeeded that he made a realm Out of his little half-barbaric state, Which grew in greatness till it could o'erwhelm The powers that seemed to hold the thread which bore its fate. The Swede, the Pole, the Tartar are no more Fit foes to cope with Russia's mighty czar ; The Turks refuse him what he asks them for. And Europe views their strife as threatening from afar. As when he hears the distant thunder peal. The anxious farmer scans his ripening crops; So, when resounds the distant clash of steel. The statesman asks how far his country's credit drops. The Thames. But when the sluggish conduct of the war Reveals a lubber in the giant's frame, ' Tis those, who felt the greatest fear before, That egg the nations on to quarry the great game. Then fortune changes, and the little star. Which once so dim shone in the distant east. Seems like a burning prairie stretching far. Or comet that has been from its fixed rounds released. GREENWICH. Now Greenwich addeth splendour to the scene : Upon the beach where the broad Thames expands, In forms that rise majestic and serene, By gracious monarchs built, a stately palace stands. The terraced walk that borders on the shore, The spacious courts, that separate the wings. The painted rooms, the tesselated floor Make it appear to be a residence of kings. Yet 'twas not kings that tarried here of late : The worn-out sailor had it for a home : They who in fights and storms had served the State, Were gathered here to rest when no more fit to roam. Now a more tender, more enlightened care Consigns this palace to another use : The old men's cosy quarters are laid bare, Sent home, each has become a hero or recluse. 140 The- Thames. But still we miss them on their wonted seat, From which they looked on every passing sail ; Picked out the weak ones from the fluttering fleet, , And with a shrug foretold the gathering of the gale. And here the Dreadnought lay, — a ship of war, > Whose hammocks welcomed those that deathhad spared, As oft they tacked along the rock-bound shore, Though commerce' peacefiil sons, no foreign foe they dared. The lordly swans float on the heaving wave, Unscared by tempests sweeping from the sea ; Boats from the shore the outspread waters brave, And poor men's children sport, from all subjection free. And, wild, a park lies on the slope beyond. With deer so tame they eat from ladies' hands Sweet cates, of which immurement makes them fond, And children stroke the fawn whilst still the mother stands. Coeval with a palace Edward built, Henry ^^^ where King Harry and his children bode, Its trees full oft their faded leaves had spilt, Ere rose the pile through which those tides of mercy flowed. 'Tis here the great astronomer resides, Who night by night Ihe firmament observes, Who, by a line drawn through yon tower, divides This fairly meted globe in two opposing curves. The Thames. 141 'Tis he who counts the minutes of the day, And for us marks the waning of our life, Notes down the nearing of the comef s way, Conjecturing when our earth will founder in the strife. WOOLWICH TO GRAVESEND. Our boatmen now again their sinews strain, Till Woolwich smiles upon us from the heights Where war's huge engines shake the trembling plain, And mid morn's paling stars flash forth their rival lights. See how the river teems with gallant ships. Which through its waters plough their weary way ; Like boys that swim immersed up to the lips, Deep in the cloven wave their hulls o'erladen sway. Lo ! some a motive power from inwards speeds. Through twisted screw or large revolving wheel ; While some but follow where the tugger leads. Which through the water hauls the passive cumbrous keel. And others trust to half-reefed sails to bring Them slowly through the winding channel safe ; With careful hands the shifting rudder swing, And tack till all the cords in the taut rigging chafe. The Thames. 143 A few there are that on the water ride, More buoyantly because they bear no freight, As forth they hurry on the ebbing tide, With ballast nicely poised, without superfluous weight. And one large ship awaits the fuller tide Till, like a vulture rising from the ground On lazy wings, she lifts her drooping side. Buoyed on a stronger stream in waters more profound. Well may we here admire the graceful lines. The stately rigging and the massive sides. Round which the sparkling foam its glamour twines, When phosphorescent waves the curving prow divides. Yet ships there are unequal to their task ; Forecasting now the danger of the sea, In vain a little help the seamen ask ; On must the creaking craft, whate'er its fate may be. The giddy sailor, conscious he has erred In being tempted by good wage and cheer. Thinks that bis widow's wail will sure be heard By one he knows who has a sympathising ear,* — The sailors' friend, who merged all other cares, To make their dangers and their hardships known, Who neither health nor wealth nor passion spares, To force the world on shore their brotherhood to own. * Samuel PlimsoU. GRA VESEND. Now busy Gravesend fronts us from the beach, That hues the coast of fruitful flowery Kent ; 'Tis here their ships belated travellers reach, Here Thames's waters sweet are with old Ocean's blent. Here change of pilots marks another change; New dangers now surround the vessel's course ; Free from the crowded channel's narrow range. Yet must she plumb the depth of ocean's billows hoarse. TILBURY.— THE ARMADA. Now turn we to the northern coast our gaze, Where the famed fort of Tilbury still stands, Whence great Elizabeth surveyed the maze Whose tangled channels pierce the estuary's sands. Along the beach her forces were arrayed, To wait the proud Armada's first attack ; But ne'er this unbuoyed maze those ships essayed, Nor hither could they come, nor yet to Spain turn back. Storm-driven upon the northern sea, they drift Through the far isles of Scotland's ragged realm. And for the Irish coast their rudders shift, Where still the angry seas some stragglers overwhelm. FORTIFICATIONS. Now they construct a less conspicuous fort, When need is fleets of iron-clads to fend From river arsenal or wealthy port, Or to command a gorge or rake a channel's bend. Here stone and granite play the smaller part ; Earth is the chief defender of the soil ; No splinters fly, no bolts or timbers start, Mere banks of earth suffice huge cannon balls to foil. Earth beats the juggler in her own defence. As in his hand what seems the ball is seen ; So in her breast, sans any false pretence, The bullets harmless lie, though forcible and keen. Less lofty than the castles built of old. Its lower range is measured to a foe, With store of deadly weapons in her hold. And decks which inches few above the water show. The Thames. 147 They bristle round the entrance of the Thames, And all who pass must come within their range ; Or when a hidden shoal the channel hems, Or inland waters sweet to briny billows change. THE MED WAY. Now to the spreading estuary flow The Medway's waters, that with Thames's wed, Together to old Ocean's arms they go ; One stream conveys them on ; they share each channel's bed. Rochester. Up Medway's stream an ancient city lies. Whose antique feudal castle still remains, So well preserved, that when the zeph5rr sighs One might suppose one heard the minstrel's parting strains. An old cathedral town this city is. Where round the church collegiate clergy live, To each of whom in turn it seemeth his, As in succession all their ministrations give. Chatham. And close adjoining, earthworks crown a hill, Upon whose summit engineers have built, And trenches dug, which yet no corses fill, And mimic fights have been, where never blood was spilt. The Thames. 149 And at its base grand royal dockyards line The shore which borders Medway's oozy bed. Here plated vessels in their armour shine, Whose quick revolving towers the strongest foemen dread. Some come to have their battered sides repaired, After long knocking through an adverse world. Worse than in battle their huge hulks have fared. On sunken reefs unseen by ruthless tempests hurled. And some are newly built. Constructed here, They never yet the open sea have known. Like budding virgins, know they not the sphere In which, when life expands, their blossoms will be blown. Some are mere skeletons upon the slips, On which the busy hammer's rattle sounds ; As slow they grow from embryos of ships To huge and monstrous things which pass e'en fancy's bounds This one as yet has nothing but its keel. For all the rest lies lurking in the brain Of the shrewd builder, tUl the Fates reveal Some new design which shall augment the sum of bane. But here is one just issuing from the hands Of naval architects and builders' men. And only fastened now by running bands. Thus birds, new feathered, wait to fly they know not when. 150 The Thames. And lo ! the bands unloosed, the vessel glides Slow and majestic to the opening waves. At first, she dips, then on the surface rides, And all her keel immersed the rippling water laves. Some gentle lady gives the ship a name. And pours baptismal wine upon the prow. Thus ships are launched upon the way to fame. Which soon in seas remote must stormy billows plough. And in the river some old men-of-war, Great wooden vessels, monsters of their kind, Dismantled, lie at anchor off the shore. Their masts and rigging gone and sails that wooed the wind. Like many-storeyed houses they appear, Or castles rising from some ample moat ; For deck is piled on deck, whence tier on tier The great guns used to roar, each through its iron throat. Ah ! never shall we see them rigged again, Their tall masts towering and their pride of sail, The musters on their decks of stalwart men. Whom storm ne'er made to cower or fiercest foe to quail. Extinct the manner of these vessels now : No more is seen the order of their fight, When the full sail propelled the adverse prow, And seamanship availed to put a foe to flight. ISLE Of SHEPP^Y.—SHEERNESS. Returning now where Thames and Medway fuse, See other dockyards on an island lie ; !Facing the roads, where royal vessels use To wait for hostile fleets that dare not venture nigh. Yet time once was, when Holland swept the main. And from her marshes valiant sailors came On Medway's tide their honour to maintain [shame. 'Gainst those who sought to bring their commonwealth to Then freedom nerved the sturdy Dutchman's arms, Whilst foul corruption weighed on England's throne ; By pleasures tangled in their dulcet charms, By foreign interests swayed, neglectful of its own. Yet ere the flighty monarch's reign was done. These valiant Dutch, with victory elate, Saw loom afar their empire's setting sun. When Soleba3^s day presaged the altering hand of Fate. 152 The Thames. A single mountain cumbers Sheppey's isle, Upon whose downs the peaceful wethers graze ; Content to nip the briny herb a while, Which makes them dainties fit for man's carnivorous praise. And then a strait divides it from the shore. Where on the mainland hardy fishers dwell. Deep through the strait the tidal waters roar. Ill-fated boats too oft submerging in their swell. I know not why this strait is called the Swale, A name which eke a Yorkshire river bears ; But this I know, it swells beneath the gale. And like a river through its narrow confine tears. THE NORE.—THE MUTINY. Now let us note (in history ill-famed) The shoal which guards the entrance of the Thames ; Whence, many an age, a warning light has flamed, To mark where shelving sand the deep dark water hems. Once, in these depths, there rode a gallant fleet, (The " wooden walls " of England they were then,) Which all the world in arms had failed to beat, So good the vessels were, so skilled and brave the men. And there they stayed till on their keels there grew The inverted cities those strange creatures form. Which, when they die, 'tis said, their lives renew. As their cold fishy blood transfused to birds grows warm. E'en so long rest affects the sailor's mind ; Then to his better thoughts strange fancies cling. That round his open heart their meshes wind, A,nd his gay spirits o'er their gloomy bodings fling. 154 The Thames. In those stem days a rigorous rule prevailed, And slight offence severe repression brought : And men there were, that ne'er in battle quailed. In whom degrading pain a sullen madness wrought. And of these men some were not there by choice. Nor by the ballot's equalizing chance ; In festive mood, they happened to rejoice, When round their board they saw the circling chain advance. The landsman, torn by press-gangs from his home, Amid the battle and the ocean's strife Caught from his messmates willingness to roam, Nor pined in secret for a mother or a wife. But 'mid the dreary waters of the Nore, Soon foul rebellion settled on his mind ; With wistful eye he conned the distant shore. And cursed the lot to him injustice had assigned. Then from the few, with reasoned discontent. From ship to ship the sullen murmur ran, And through the fleet their watchword quick was sent, And ere they were aware the mutiny began. Soon through the land the dismal tidings spread, And every Briton shuddered as he heard That those he thought of as the foeman's dread, Against their native land seditious frenzy stirred. The Thames. 155 A while the foe rejoiced at our distress ; Thought of avenging his lean crippled trade, Could he but trust the. spy's malignant guess, That he unscathed might make, then, one tremendous raid, But soon these men, accustomed to obey, And yet unwilling other chiefs to own Than those who ruled them with a lawful sway. Became like ships adrift by gusty breezes blown. And some began the ringleaders to scoff. Meeting their rule with jealousy and jeers. Till, one by one, the wiser falling off. None but the reckless stayed beside the mutineers. Then was the time to crush the Hydra's head Beneath the majesty of sovereign power. So that ere its foul venom further spread. The unsubmissive should before her strong arm cower. Quick from the rigging stubborn wretches hung. Who died no warrior's ne nor sailor's death, But from the yards, like gallows birds, were strung. Till the sea loathed them with gusts of his briny breath. HERNE BAY AND CANTERBURY. A little further 'tis almost a sea, Which, where of old the heron did frequent, From northern oceans driven, breaks on the lee. When blows the wind upon the sunny shores of Kent. Here to the coast from Canterbury come Staid clergy out of the Cathedral Close, And wives attracted by the distant hum, Which to autumnal seas allures the otiose. And this chief city of the English Church, At easy distance frorn the herons' bay, Draws those who run in fitful pleasure's search. To scan its ancient sites and hoary piles survey. 'Twas here our heathen sires the message heard From Rome's grand pontiff, through a simple monk. Which smote great Odin, with Messiah's word Down, like a forest tree, when lightning blasts the trunk. The Thames. 157 Still is the monk held in remembrance here : The oldest edifice preserves his name, Wherein the builder's choicest works appear, And, with the sculptor's aid, attest his holy fame. When from the shore we ventured forth to roam. And clomb the hill whose woodlands wreath the bay. Skirting a pool that was the heron's home, Before us in the vale the Saxon city lay. A wall still stands, which girds the city round, And in that girdle is one ancient gate. And other reliques of old times are found, When Saxon kings reigned here or primates kept their state. But what most moved us were the old grey towers Which top the vast cathedral's lofty pile : There, in our thought, his blood the martyr pours, And sacrilegious strokes the holy fane defile. THAMES YACHTS. Here when the summer breezes gently blow, The Thames's yachtsmen a regatta hold ; When round the furthest seaward buoy they go, And haul their sails on high, unfurling every fold, Till on their sides the fastest yachts recline, As if they meant to dally with the sea. And he o'erflows them with his rippling brine, And their taut rigging creaks, as struggling to be free ; Then skill in tacking helps, as well as speed. To bring the lucky winner to the goal. Some sailing on the shortest course succeed ; Some seek a stronger breeze, where larger billows roll. Anxious their backers watch them from the shore, When, as the pilot brings his vessel round, They shift the sail to catch the wind once more, Until they hear aloft its welcome whistle sound. The Thames. 159 And though dim distance half their course obscures, The sport is one to EngHshmen so dear, That still their tryst a motley crowd allures, Excited when they see the winning yachts appear. THE RECULVERS. A little further, where the shore ascends, An ancient chapel stands upon the cliff, 'Gainst which its wrath the angry ocean spends, Crumbling the churchyard's soil and bones protruding stiff. A Roman temple occupied this site. When Roman galleys crept along the shore, Then augurs watched the heavy sea-guU's flight, And altars flamed upon the tesselated floor. Still of this temple vestiges remain ; Though, when the Roman legions drew towards home. The Druids knew no god beneath the main. Or goddess fashioned from the wind-lashed ocean's foam. But when from Rome Rome's new religion came, A chapel rose where erst the temple stood ; Before His image shone the taper's flame, Who, human, lived man's life and died upon the rood. * Bones are seen protruding from the side of the diff. The Thames. i6i And chief their chapel 'twas, who seaward fare, -Though round the spot a modest hamlet grew, And graves were dug and Christians buried there Where heathen priests before their gory victims slew. Oft from the cliff the anxious peasant saw Some frail skiff struggling with an adverse wind, Round which death opened w;de his horrid jaw, [mind. Then crossed himself, and hoped that heaven its own would And time rolled on, and kingdoms passed away. And royal houses perished in their pride, As when at Bosworth, Richard prostrate lay. And widows wept their lords who in such quarrels died. 'Twas such a one from Bosworth came forlorn To seek a refuge by a sister's side. Who near Reculver long had the' habit worn, Which holy sisters use their comeliness to hide. With swelling sails these sisters venture forth To lay an offering at Our Lady's shrine ; Where the cliffs trending shelter from the north. And broad rude stairs are hewn ascending from the brine, stairl Then tempests rising whirl their vessel round. The fearless captain trembles for the fair ; — Lest that his ship should be, if driven aground. By monsters of the deep sucked down into their lair. M i62 The Thames. He thinks perhaps a rowing-boat might live, And make the land against the raging storm ; He lowers a boat, and bids the oarsmen give. Soon as his tender charge shall reach the taffrail form. But others crowding in, the oarsmen gave When only one was lowered to the boat. It was the nun. Her life they hoped to save, If 'mid the boisterous waves their little craft could, float. Yet fate was other than the seamen thought ; Just as the' o'erladen boat had neared the land, In bursting billows' refluent waters caught, Twas laid beneath the wave, embedded in the sand. Meanwhile, a skilful steersman at the helm. The rudder wielding, wares the distant shoal ; The lightened ship no waves can overwhelm. She turns the furthest point and makes the destined goal. Then up those stairs the twice lorn widow went. Her broken heart at Mary's feet to bow. One lonely hour in tearful prayer she spent. Then on the altar step she laid this noble vow : Two sister towers shall from Reculver rise^ To warn the sailor from those banks of sand ; And when her film Night draws across his eyes. One tower shall bear aloft a red far-gleaming brand. THE ISLE OF THANET. Now further faring towards the open sea, Along the Isle of Thanet's shore we roam, To where it bathes in ocean's billows free, And Thames's waters find their last eternal home. This island is aU other isles unlike. Its northern shore the" estuary bounds. Upon the east the sea's great billows strike, And both its landward sides a watery line surrounds. For from one fount two rivers issue forth, Which to each other's course contrary flow ; The lesser hieing straightway to the north, Whilst eastward, winding slow, Stbur's deepet waters go. Upon its northern coast, and near the spot Where open sea and estuary blend. Sands, which no rocks or patch of shingle blot, By pleasant Margate far their smooth soft plain extend. 164 The Thames. 'Tis there the citizen of London, tired, When business slackens and when pleasure palls, With love of change for change's sake inspired. His restless weary brood in lodging-house instals. There soon fresh breezes laden with the brine The roses freshen on each maiden cheek ; Whilst the big brothers in their boat recline, Or plunge into the deep, or haunts of fishes seek. And for them all there is the pleasant drive. To Minster, taking from the church its name ; Or Richborough, which treasure-hunters rive ; Or Sandwich, curious town of mediaeval fame. Some will perchance a little lore deploy. Whose ample funds can back a learned whim ; Sclilieman. Think of the Dutchman delving for a Troy, And, as he rose to fame, that they may follow him. But 'tis along the estuary's shore That, moved by wonder, most the land-folk hie. List to the wind and hark the billows' roar, Or watch the changeful sea with reverential eye. Ofttimes they gambol struggling with the wave. In strange fantastic garbs from foreign land ; And so attired, each other's gaze they brave, Dash through the roughening surf, or breast it hand in hand. The Thames. 165 The bashful maiden bathing all alone, Or with her fellows, in loose robes arrayed, Is of the past, a thing thaf s scarcely known, So foreign manners vile Old EngUsh use invade. COAST 01< ESSEX.— SO U7HEND. •Upon Th?Lmes' other side fair Essex shore Throws back the heaving estuary's wave. Upon this strand no blasts of Norway roar, Cold from the snowclad land slow-melting icebergs lave. From south by east, winds whisper on the beach With voice melodious as a lover's call, When on the shingle dashed with graceful breach, The autumnal waves dissolved like dew-drops sparkling fall. O'er plains of Flanders blows this south-east wind. And when it dureth, little billows swell. And in the air small grains of sand we find, Or from the French coast brought, some microscopic shell. Here gentle hillocks rise, on which the sun His sweetest rays in early morning sheds ; And few there are but must his radiance shun When from the zenith it o'er all the landscape spreads. The Thames 167 Then oft at eve along the pier they walk, Which far into the estuary juts, And laughing girls indulge in idle talk [struts. Whilst round them young men lounge and pompous old age For here from London come great weary crowds, To whom dull business stints the leisure hour, Though sultry winds disperse the summer-clouds. And scorching rays their streams on wood and asphalt pour. Now suddenly the coast on this side trends, By low flat islands bordered, to the north. And as it curves, the estuary ends, And from its tangled maze the Thames' flood issues forth. THE ESTUARY. Through all this waste of water there are paths, Distinctly marked, to navigators known. Who skilful steer, e'en when opposing wraths Of winds and tides conflict, nor rule of either own. Here floats a buoy, and here at anchor rides A ship which bears a lighthouse on its deck ; And there a bell rung by the wind derides The sunken ship whose masts the treacherous surface speck And on the shore, from lofty towers, appear Signals by day and warning fires by night : And all are landmarks when the view is clear. Hills, woods, and peeping spires, and each familiar sight ; As near the shore the solitary tree, Whose stoop attests the bearing of the wind. And which had grown and spread erect and free But for the forces which its outward movements bind. The Thames. 169 Or cairn, wher« once i' th' blast a gibbet stood, From which fierce pirates' corpses frequent hung. Serving to feed the sea-mew's hungry brood, [swung. Till nought but rattling bones, chains clanking round them. The bold experienced captain threads the maze, As shows the chart, and buoys and signals guide, But careful men, whom unknown risk affrays. To practised pilot's skill their precious helms confide. And yet at times a heavy vessel strikes. By steam propelled, where lie submerged the sands. Calm though the sea, because the seaman likes To catch the ebbing tide, which bides no man's commands. Deep in the sand the prow embedded lies ; Shipwreck The sand displaced, encumbereth the sides, A moment still, its power the engine plies. The scarce coherent sand its monstrous power derides. Then for a while the engine is reversed. And planks and bolts all through the vessel strain, And half her cargo 's doomed to be immersed, ' But her own bulk alone makes all these efforts vain. And danger looks the shipwrecked in the face, When the tide turns and brings with him the wind, And billows o'er her hulk each other chase, Which, while the prow holds fast, rock the loose helm behind. 170 The Thames. Some leave the vessel, trusting frail ship-boats, And, work of peril, try to reach the shore : The buoy-bell passing, whence the hollow notes Sound hke a funeral knell amid the ocean's roar. But some remain, who gather round the prow. Hold by the stays, or lash them to the mast. For helm and hull the flood has entered now. And round the figure-head storm-waves are rising fast. With sharpened sense they stretch their eager sight, Sweeping the dim horizon with their eyes. In vain. No ship that witnesses their plight Amongst the dangerous sands to their assistance hies. Then night descending wraps them in her pall, And through its gloom the distant lighthouse gleams, As they, responsive, to their masthead haul [streams. Their own small lamp, whose light thence fainlly flickering From time to time a signal gun they fire. Till, from scant powder, fainter grows the boom, Scarce piercing through the wind, which, rising higher And drifting the rainclouds, adds denseness to the gloom. Drenched by the rain, and spattered by the spray, By grasping numbed, and shivering in the wind. The shipwrecked wretches wait the dawn of day, With different grades of strength, and with a various mind. The Thames. 171 The feeble careworn worried artisan, Ill-fed, worn out by an excited brain. Whom fate has frowned on since his life began, Now to his fate resigned, drops helpless from the chain, — More fit to emigrate beyond the sky Than to those- lands where churlish Nature needs Cool heads and vigorous arms with her to vie Ere from her wilderness an ordered realm proceeds. A sudden splash, scarce heard above the din, As wind and wave the creaking vessel rive, Thrills every breast, and floods the heart within. Sign of impending fate to those who still survive. ■ Close to the prow, and in the safest spot, A mother and her child are sinking now. Alack ! the passing spirit answers not The husband's prayerful lips that hover o'er her brow. Some men there are, confiding in their strength. Who, though it tarries long, of succour sure. Hold on determined through night's weary length. Safe, if the battered ship but long enough endure. What different thoughts inflame each anxious mind : The sturdy pioneer, who sought a home Beyond the seas, for those he left behind. Rues, as he thinks of them, the' unrest that made him roam. 172 ' The Thames. The young man starting fresh in his career, To whom life seemed auspiciously begun, Chafes at the check which thwarts his progress here. Ere in the race for fame a single heat is run. Repentant now, the sinner lives again A life misspent, since first by passion crossed ; And poignant anguish brings within his ken Each sin habitual grown, each slight amendment lost. Another, sure his sins are all condoned, Although unworthy, waits eternal bliss, His deeds disturb him not, though unatoned, And his forecast of death is of an angel's kiss. The captain has his duty to perform, No private care distracts his thoughtful mind. His cheering words are heard above the storm ; To all his acts are just ; to those who need it, kind. Meanwhile the boats their several ways pursue, With various fortunes struggling towards the shore. Dropping behind, its oarsmen all too few. One from a huge wave's crest descends to rise no more. Another wildly wafted from its way. Its crew exhausted, drifts before the winds With just enough of buoyancy to stay Till signal reach within, some passing ship it finds. The Thames. 1 73 But one good boat, more favoured than the rest, By skilful steering, and strong rowers' arms, And prompt obedience to the mate's behest. Keeps straight upon its way, through all the night's alarms. At break of day the pebbled shore they reach : By one last effort through the breakers driven. Their shattered craft is landed on the beach, Ere yet its yawning planks are all asunder riven. One pious passenger puts up a prayer ; Another seeks for shelter and for food ; Exhausted, some can take no further care, Lost in their drowsy thoughts and melancholy mood. But with their chief the strong and healthy few Think but of lifeboats and their shivering mates. From hut to hut they seek the willing crew, Resolved with them' to dare once more the angry fates. And soon the boat is launched upon the main. The mate alone accepted as a guide ; And every nerve the gallant boatmen strain. By tide and tempest crossed, to reach the vessel's side. As dawns the day upon those shipwrecked men. Sweet hope reviving gladdens every heart. The first faint streak brings mists within their ken, Through which on wings of fire their piercing glances dart. 174 The Thames. The sails of distant ships, the steamer's smoke, The fisher's skiff that scuds before the wind. Pilots, to whom it seems some vessel spoke, Buoy up their beating hearts and exercise each mind. The wiser captain reckons on his mate. And landward turning, scans the distant wave, Then thinks him if their strength and ship will wait Till comes from shore the boat whose function is to save. As with the ebbing tide the storm abates. The force which rocks the quivering wreck is spent, Ere with the choking sea the hull dilates. And from the fixfed prow the wabbling helm is rent. Fast from the sea the gelid mists retreat. The sun ascending, o'er the water reigns. The shipwrecked men absorb his cordial heat, [veins. Which stirs their languid pulse, quick coursing through their Then gallant ship-boys to the cabin dive. And bring above-board such. nutritious things. To find fit food the faintest can contrive. And from full stomachs soon a cheerful temper springs. And lo ! the life-boat in the distance looms : Anxious they watch it in the breakers tossed ; And then, in joy, their rest of powder booms A grateful welcome as the last rough wave is crossed. The Thames. 175 Now thibugh less troubled waters it proceeds, Fast, though still struggling with a chopping sea, Each stalwart arm its rapid progress speeds, And well the steersman holds the rudder to the lee. And soon the boat, which late seemed but a speck Where the wild wave meets with the shingled beach, So nears the shoal which holds the dangling wreck. That arms outstretched almost the lifted oars can reach. Then by the faithful mate, thrown from the boat, A knotted rope a sort of ladder makes, Down which they glide, o'erjoyed to be afloat. Ere the returning tide the wreck asunder breaks. And fastly cling they to the corded sides. Lest by ill chance the boat should be upset In the rough water, where the shoal divides Waves, which their mingled spray, high sun-illumined, jet. Then quickly thridding 'twixt the banks of sand. By crooked paths the .nearest coast they gain. And on their native shore these exiles land, — Nor think they now of those where fancy revelled fain. A harder lot than theirs befals the crew In some small vessel, struggling with o'erfreight. When a large ship, by paddles moved or screw. Runs down the helpless craft by sheer resistless weight. 176 , The Thames. Some lithesome youth mayhap will grasp the chain Hung from the bows by which his ship is struck, Or one escape whom floating spars sustain, Or some strong swimmer, through a reckless sailor's luck. But these exceptions are : and to the rest. Death deals a blow both horrible and swift. No time have they for conscience-sifting quest. Or with repentant vows towards heaven their eyes to lift. The frightened helmsman still the tiller grasps, The hurried sailors haul the creaking cords. His last command the anxious captain gasps, As they are sent to join ossivorous ocean's hoards. No wreckers now with lights upon the shore Allure ill-fated vessels to their doom, Such as were wont on rugged coasts of yore With false and fitful glare to break the dangerous gloom. Yet in some minds unfair suspicion springs, When the lone fisher ventures to a wreck. That his poor boat's mean hold some treasure brings To cheer his winter eves or cottage home to deck. THE OPEN SEA. Ships from the estuary issue forth, Through different channels, as their various ways Tend to the icy regions of the north. Or torrid climes which feel the sun's perpetual rays. Some hug the coast of Essex till they come Where Roman epicures the bivalve sought, Far Britain's luscious tribute to the sum Of dainty things, with which their luxury was fraught. Colchester. These on the English or the Scottish coast Their harbours find, or double the dread cape, Which of all land of Europe stretches most Towards where the earth subsides to a less convex shape. Cape North. Lapland. Across the ocean some a straighter course Take to Elbe's mouth, or where the Baltic floods Seaward their way through narrow channels force. Or where o'er Norway's fiords the tall pine forest buds. N 178 The Thames. The Or the low lands of Flanders creep along, Dogger Bank. Eschew the bank, where swarm the finny tribes, And from canals * look down upon the throng. Whose busy constant toil the ocean circumscribes. JViore numerous others by the Forelands turn, And southward through the Downs, their way pursue. From light to light, which on those Forelands burn. And thence 'twixt chalky cliffs that bound the dazzled view. Nor need we, further than these straits, attend The ships which sail along our southern shore. Or to the ports of France their courses bend. For Thames's pilots steer their seaward course no more. Here in the Downs all passing vessels bide, Of tidings eager or they come or leave. Some on strong cables swinging gaily ride, Whilst others anchor cast or slowly chanting heave. The mighty ship, which eastern treasures charge. That long has laboured in the Indian seas. And passed through Egypt, a gigantic barge, Stays here a while to find a pilot or a breeze. Whilst others down the Channel outward bound, Wait till the south-west wind has spent its rage. Nor dare the Foreland cliff to venture round. While Gulf and Arctic Streams their angry conflict wage. * The new canal leading from the sea to Amsterdam, which is above the level of the land. The Thames. 1 79 within these Roads great ships in SEtfety ride, Though the wind blows tempestuous from the sea ; Earl Godwin's sands, scarce hidden by the tide. Check the rude waves till they dissolved in ripples flee. Land-locked upon the west, in vain the storm An entrance to this favoured shelter seeks,, For at each end the jutting Forelands form Breakwaters where the wave its empty fury wreaks. And not alone the merchant's peaceful sails Within this favoured shelter have been furled ; Here lay in wait the arm, that never fails, And issuing forth from hence its bolts of thunder hurled. And if again a hostile fleet should range The seas which round Thames' estuary flow, 'Tis hence I trow, though many things they change, The fleet will sail that goes to ward or strike the blow. FINIS. COMPLETE UNIFORM EDITIONS OF ■ MR. TENNYSOFS WORKS. 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