*ii° vv .4 V (J ill^ 4, ■■% ^' J!=^ti:.,' Cornell University Library PR 6005.A98P73 Poems on love and nature. 3 1924 013 594 845 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in the 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 3594845 ^"l/ZiyX ''^^ ^t-^-f^^^^ POEMS LOVE AND NATURE POEMS ON LOVE AND NATURE BY CHARLES W. CAYZER, B.A. LONDON: ELLIOT STOCK, 62 PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C. 1896 A^l rights reserved Aj'\'\n TO MY MOTHER The light of my fi7-eside I The joy of my home I The dear face that haunts me wherever I roam. The guide of my childhood ! The star of my youth 1 The loved one who joy' d o'er my first infant tooth. The essence of virtue — best gift from above — With eyes soft and tender, bright planets of love — The Queen of all Mothers ! — Perfection's Ideal I High-minded and noble, most ardently leal ! c. w. c. . Ralston, 1889. CONTENTS Spring Idylls— page Invocation to the Muses .... 3 The Birds 7 Sunshine and Shower 12 Songs and Lyrics — The Island of Dreams 17 To Winifred (aged eighteen months) . . -19 To M 22 Love's Dwelling 24 To 26 To Helen 28 Love's Eden ....... 29 Phyllis 30 Song 32 Love-Doubts 33 Moss Rosebud and Myrtle .... 35 Stella 36 ESTELLE 37 Cousin-Sweet 39 CONTENTS Love Sonnets — Love's Golden Pilgrimage Love's Awakening Love's Welcome Love's Pillow . Love's Ardour Love's Sweetness Love's Oneness Love's Bitterness Love's Dilemma Miscellaneous Poems — Footprints of Angels Forgiveness ..... The Spirit of Poetry . On Friendship .... On a Painting of Kilchurn Castle My Twenty-First Birthday . Wreck of the Roumania Sonnets- Dean LiDDELL In Memoriam. Duke of Clarence and Avondale To the Memory of Harold Lewis Ffolkes Death of Tennyson .... The Fight over the Newman Statue . Oxford v. Cambridge .... Strained Relations .... To E. G On the Abuse of Parental Authority The Story of a Life .... CONTENTS Sonnets, continued — An Equatorial Sunset . Evening at Sea A Vice of Ind Epigrams— I. The Triumph of Love II. To MY Wife III. The Insufficiency of Song IV. Love's Bewilderment V. Estranged VI. Is Love Tender? VII. A Woman's Eyes VIII. Lines addressed to a Frivolous Young Lady on her Birthday IX. To a Beautiful Lady on her wearing a LOW Dress . X. Death-in-Life . XL The Abbey of St. Mary, in Furness XII. Some Lady Novelists XIII. Young Desire . XIV. Her Sin . XV. Her Accusers . XVI. Waifs and Strays . XVII. An Old Text in a New Cover XVIIL Man's Toil XIX. Be thy Gold Stainless PAGE 79 80 81 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 lOI 102 103 Amy Robsart 109 SPRING IDYLLS INVOCATION TO THE MUSES Awake ! ye tuneful Nine, and sing The budding glories of the Spring, Awake ! and sweep each sounding lyre. Breathe on the strings celestial fire ! — Euterpfe first, with her soft flute. Shall bid the whistling winds be mute — And, after her, let each in turn Reveal the thoughts that inward burn ! And you, ye Nymphs, that haunt the grove, Whose only hardship is to love. Who all night long in revel gay Prolong the scenes ye shun by day, And, circling round your Fairy Queen, In sprightly dance, rejoice unseen, Awake ! and let the Chorus bear Your blended voices through the air ! SPRING IDYLLS To strains of rustling minstrelsy Attune each rural symphony — The children of the New-born Year Are worthy of your sweetest care, The first to greet you every day And spread their incense in your way, Impearl'd in robes of spotless white — The transient relics of the night — Each Httle face o'er-brimm'd with joy, And blushing like a maiden coy ! — And when the Sun, with orient wings, His glitt'ring splendour round them flings. No jewel from the pearly seas. No wavelet, flick'd before the breeze, Scatter'd such sparks upon the brine, Diamonding each ocean chine ! — The rapture of a thousand eyes, The silent envy of the skies ! To you so bright ! — To man they give. The life they love, the hfe they live — Whose many charms of form and face Adorn the fairest of our race, And lend to Beauty richer grace Than ever star, or spangled gem. Flashing from Love's diadem ! INVOCATION TO THE MUSES Often, as the evening wears, Have I watch'd them through my tears, ImperiUing their own sweet eyes To look upon my Lady's sighs, And showing there, I must confess, Like Twin-sisters in distress — I'm sure, like me, they'd die of kindness, Imprison'd by Love's foolish blindness. But that my Lady's tender heart Cannot bear to see them smart, And so she helps them, in their pain. By kissing them to life again ! And, when the heart is bow'd with grief, Instant is their sweet relief — No useless chatter, friendly din. Jarring on the wounds within, But like soft music, in the night, Flooding all the soul with light ! — Their very purity alone Pointing to a heavenly throne. And to a face of tend'rest calm — He, who wept, now wears the palm ! So, when sickness laid its hand On the Fairest of our land, Sweeter praise I never got SPRING IDYLLS Than beside my Lady's cot — Lilies, Roses, in my hand, Gave I at my heart's command, Violets, firstlings of my love, Tender as the stars above. Snowdrops, white as her fair fingers — In which the blue blood faintly lingers— Tulips, deck'd in red and gold. Greater happiness unfold — Light and healing in their wings. Is the wish her Poet brings ! Never saw I eyes, so fine, Sparkle with such dewy wine ! So, by day, her roses grew, And, by night, her dreams came true — Now, I have her, in my arms, Radiant with Love's thousand charms ! Therefore, let us haste and sing Our heart's welcome to the Spring ! 1890-95. THE BIRDS Ye, who have wings, and soar In realms of light, Ye, who with bill and claw Delving delight, Ye, who with tuneful lay Welcome the dawn of day, Sing forth in roundelay, Springtime is bright ! Thrush Hark ! how the welkin rings. Trembling with glee ! Hark ! how the Mavis sings, Changing his key ! Bird of the dapple-gray ! Thine is the sweetest lay — Whistling from fragrant bay, Happy, and free. SPJiING IDYLLS Lark Queen of the azure sky ! Whose dew-lapp'd home, Green blades, or wheat, or rye Serve for a dome — Soaring, with spiral flight. High o'er the realms of sight, Wrapt in thy song's delight, Where dost thou roam ? Robin Come, come, don't be absurd, My gallant Robin ! Was that the voice I heard, When winds were sobbing ? Hast thou some vain regret. That holds thee in its net ? Surely the Spring can set Thy heart a-throbbing ! THE BIRDS Linnet List ! how that gentle lay, Sweetly refin'd, Warbled from tender spray, Floats on the wind — Hopping from tree to tree. Filling my soul with glee, Linnet, thy melody Is wondrous kind ! Chaffinch If thou a nest would'st see, Divinely wrought. Perfect in symmetry, A maze of thought ! — Moss-bound, and lined with hair. Greener than grassy lair — Happy the love-sick pair. Whom thou hast taught ! SPRING IDYLLS Blackbird The Blackbird's piping call Rings on my ear — Its accents seem to fall Both far and near. Yet, with how sweet a note, He clears his darling throat ! I would I had by rote The half I hear ! The Rooks Cradled in sunset glows, Rock'd by the storm. Far from their fellest foes, Happy and warm — Love in community. Strong in their Unity, With bold impunity Robbing each farm ! THE BIRDS All Ye Poets of the air ! Ye that can fly, Ye all have gifts most rare, Ye all must die — Then sing while sing ye may, And sing while lasts the day. Praising this Season gay, And God on High ! 1890 SUNSHINE AND SHOWER Blow, gentle Zephyrs, waft along Fair Nature's harmony of song. And to ethfereal heights proclaim High Alleluias to His name ! — Who, 'mid His works of wondrous love — Sweet foretaste of the joys above — Is seen to smile, with silver sheen, On upland wilds and heather green ! Waft, gentle Zephyrs, waft me o'er Rich odours from thy varied store — The Violet and its tender bloom. The drooping Lilies' sweet perfume. That rambling through this woodland vale. With thankful heart, I may inhale Spring's balmy fragrance. SUNSHINE AND SHOWER 13 Inconstant Dame ! hast changed so soon The garb thou wore but yesternoon ? Dost think thy moody fits and ways Are fairer than the Sun's bright rays ? Or would'st thou to my youthful mind Some golden maxim now unbind ? — How cloud and sunshine, wind and shower, Are gifts alike of equal dower, Ordain'd by God's all-wise command To scatter plenty o'er the land. Then haste thy mandate to obey ! Lead on thy legions to the fray ! — The warring winds, the mist, and rain, And all that help to swell the grain. Breaking the silence ! 14 SPRING IDYLLS III Hark ! thunder warns — and startled hares Are scamp'ring to their grassy lairs, While Heaven's high flood-gates, open'd wide. Pour forth the deluge tide on tide. And leaping fires, of varied form. Reveal the grandeur of the storm ! — Not then the feather'd tribe delight In songs of love, or whirring flight. But, shelter'd 'neath some spreading Ash, Their colour'd pennons cease to flash In the bright sun, while Phoebus' rays Are hidden in a cloudy maze — When, lo ! a token from on high, A Rainbow flashes o'er the sky Her peaceful radiance ! SONGS AND LYRICS THE ISLAND OF DREAMS 'Tis a snug little Island ! The Island of Dreams ! Where Love, like the murmur of far-away streams, Doth soothe with its music the saddest of themes. II 'Tis an Island of refuge ! An Island of calm ! Where the weary are rested, and life has a charm That may seldom be found in this world of alarm. Ill 'Tis an Island of worship ! An Island of light ! Where the stars ever glisten, and Summer is bright— And the Moon is the Queen of that Island of night. c t8 songs and lyrics IV 'Tis an Island of pleading — so tender, and low, That the heart, in its joy, might for ever forego The round of its duties, the round of its woe. 'Tis the Isle of all Isles ! 'Tis the Island of Love ! Where lovers are faithful, as seldom they prove — ^Tis the Island where souls in their ecstasies move ! 1891. TO WINIFRED {Aged eighteen months) The Syrens alone might tell you The Land whence my Lady came, Or the days she took to travel Over a sea of flame. She came with the early Dawn, Before the stars were set. With the palest of pinky toes. Which the dews, with their tears, had wet. Ill How quickly the months flew by. And Baby could run alone ! Whilst Mother would sit, and worship. For hours at a baby throne ! SONGS AND L YRICS IV But now — can I tell the wonder? — The Love that has come to me, In the light of the bluest eyes, That ever smiled out of the sea ! Such treasure of golden floss No silkworm ever saw ! — 'Twas spun by a faery hand. By the light of faery lore. VI Her smile is a flash of the Dawn, Before the morning breaks — 'Twould scatter the dullest clouds That ever the East awakes ! VII Such tiny hands and feet. Such mimicking words and ways ! And, oh for that childish prattle, When the heart, itself, betrays ! TO WINIFRED VIII For to thee, thou little Innocent ! The World cannot help but be kind- But, the larger the heart, the greater The sorrow it needs must find. TO M Fair girl, whose eyes, Like Summer skies, Are depths of azure blue— Whose rosy lips Each Zephyr sips, Impearling them with dew- Whose dainty smiles, And winsome wiles, Are harbingers of Love — Whose sunny ways Are silent traits Of virtue from above — In thought refin'd, In feeling kind, Adorn'd with every grace — My memory holds In sacred folds The radiance of thy face ! TO M Sweet maid, Adieu ! No more I'll view Thy maiden-like alarms, When, from thy lips, A Stranger sips The essence of thy charms ! 1890. LOVE'S DWELLING There's Love within those little eyes, In deeps of light ! You cannot hold him in disguise — He lurks beneath those summer skies, And revels in his victories, Till set of night. And Love and Laughter, hide and seek. Where lilies vie — They chase the sunbeams o'er each cheek. And ripple low, like waves that break Upon the shingles of a lake, Until they die. LOVE'S DWELLING 25 And Love hangs trembling on thy voice, Entrancing soft — The Love that crowns a maiden's choice, The Love that makes a heart rejoice, The Love that hears none other voice Save that of Love ! i8go. TO Of thy charms, by far the fairest — Charms, which Time cannot efface ! — Heaven's celestial gift thou wearest In the radiance of thy face ! — Sweetness lurks within each fold, Ruby lips, and hair of gold, Joys that never could be told Dwell in thy embrace ! Eyes, that haunt me through the distance Of my boyhood's brightest days ! Eyes, that can without assistance Drown me 'neath their powerful blaze ! Eyes, that sparkle in the night Of a wardrobe's dusky light. Hiding then our chief delight, Hiding — and its ways I TO 27 Little Love, thine all-completeness Leaves me at extremity, For I fain would die of sweetness, Smother'd in the thought of thee ! Thou art Fairest of the Fair, Rarest in a Land most rare, And I wonder that I dare, Thus — to think of thee 1 1890. TO HELEN When Grace and Simplicity lovingly vie With the roses of Beauty and Health, And the voice of the Charmer comes wondrously nigh To the Angels in sweetness and wealth, Why blame the fond mortal, who lingers awhile On eyes like the morning, on lips that beguile, Or a form that is perfect, sweet elf? Then pardon, dear maid, if my verse should offend. Or mine eyes that have wrought me such ill ! Though my life were the forfeit, and torture the end, I should gaze on thee lovingly still ! Like thy namesake of old, thou art worthy the strife Of Trojans and Grecians, and why not the life Of one that's resign'd to thy will ? 1890. LOVE'S EDEN When dull clouds oppress me, Then come and caress me, And lull with thy magic the storm-winds of strife- In arms soft and tender, My cares I surrender, And live but to worship my sweet little wife ! What fountain could measure. The love that I treasure. Though welling with crystals as bright as the dew ?- And, in her warm kisses. Ten thousands of blisses, Are stor'd against Winter, and days that we rue. PHYLLIS 'Tis not that my Phyllis has sun-laden hair — Those long flowing tresses, that lovers declare Are the first of love's charms, and the breath of its air, I love her. 'Tis not that my Phyllis has wonderful eyes. Whose depth is the ocean, whose zenith the skies, Whose harmonies wake in the kingdom of sighs, I love her. 'Tis not that my Phyllis is sweet as the dew, When swooning away in a violet's blue, Or that lovers are melted to agonies new, I love her. PHYLLIS 31 'Tis not that my Phyllis is tender and kind, That self is abandon'd — and others may find That the charm of all charms is the charm of her mind, I love her. But the reason I love her — and love her alone. And shall love for ever, and worship the throne — She's the half of my being, perfected and grown ! SONG ' Ae fond kiss, and then we sever ! ' Bums. I Whene'er I gaze on thee, My soul's sweet ecstasy, Ten thousand transports thrill my veins !- Till, in the ocean of thine eyes, My ravish'd spirit fainting dies, And nought of me remains. And all I ask in such extreme — A parting kiss — a life-long dream Of thy sweet purity ! Alas, I've taken three ! And still I ask of thee Only one more — thy cherry lips Are sweet as is the new-mown hay — Then drive, O drive, me not away ! The bee his honey sips From fragrant flowers, and why not I From one for whom I well could die To all eternity ? 1890. LOVE- DOUBTS Only as long, and so long as No other heart seeks thine, Will ye listen to the music That's swelling at thy shrine ! Only as long, and so long as No other eyes speak tears. Will ye guard the sacred portals That hide a vestal's fears ! Ill Only as long, and so long as No other voice pleads low. Will ye seek to still the tumult Beneath thy bosom's snow 1 D 34 SONGS AND LYRICS IV Only as long, and so long as No other hand steals thine, Will ye thrill beneath the pressure Of this poor hand of mine ! Only as long, and so long as No other his homage pays, Will ye listen to my madness. And wonder at its ways ! 1891. MOSS ROSEBUD AND MYRTLE All my longing, since first I beheld thee, My lips in three words would convey — But to speak them might breathe of dishonour To one whom I would not betray ! Oh, what if I never may tell thee, And die with the burden I bear ! Wilt thou value the friendship I gave thee. The silence that cost me so dear ? Ill And so, in our hearts, we must cherish The knowledge that makes life divine- And when, in the dawning, we perish, God mingle thine ashes with mine ! STELLA Love is not Love that can admit despair, For Love was born of Hope, and Hope is fair ! With that bright Star to guide him on his way, No life were loveless, though Love say him 'Nay.' What though the World may pass him by with scorn- Life, without Love, were surely more forlorn ! He, who has look'd upon Love's guiding Star, Knows that it never sets — but burns afar ! Though Love shall never here his guerdon find, Love leaves his own sweet recompense behind — For but to love — is to forget the while Earth and its sordid cares, in Heaven's blue smile. ESTELLE Like a diamond on a roseleaf when the rain has gemm'd the flower, Like the first faint flush of sunrise steaUng over stream and tower, Like the palest light of evening darkly deep'ning every hour, So are thine eyes, true love, to me. Like the soft and fleecy treasure of a child's bright golden hair, Like the whiteness of the Hawthorn when the Summer months are near, Like the warmth of tender nestlings zoned within a mossy sphere, So are thine hands, true love, to me. 38 SONGS AND LYRICS III Like a brook that purls and ripples ever with a silvery sound, Like the chime of distant sleigh-bells tinkling over frosty ground, Like a soft-string'd Stradivarius breathing on a spirit wound, So is thy voice, true love, to me. IV Like the tints that fall at sunset on a cloudlet's drift- ing snow. Like the flash of crimson streamers when the Alpine ridges glow. Like the blossoms of the Almond, like the petals of the Sloe, So are thy cheeks, true love, to me. v Far beyond all Poet's dreaming — far beyond his Heaven, his Hell — Far beyond all depths of feeling — far beyond what lovers tell — Far beyond the voice of conscience, whisp'ring that thou didst was well — Such is thy smile, dear love, to me. COUSIN -SWEET Cousin-Sweet I do adore thee ! — But, since now I must restore thee, All the way seems lone before me — Cousin-Sweet, Good-bye ! Oh the rapture of our meeting ! Oh the joy in earthly greeting ! Oh the hours, too-quickly fleeting ! — Cousin-Sweet, Good-bye ! Faery paths in which we'd wander — How my heart beat over yonder ! Now thou'lt tear my soul asunder ! — Cousin-Sweet, Good-bye ! Shall the hours count up my sorrow. Which, from Night, I fain must borrow? Then Good-bye — until to-morrow — Cousin-Sweet, Good-night ! LOVE SONNETS (1891) LOVE'S GOLDEN PILGRIMAGE To one who loves, all things are beautiful — Love colours every thought, and on his wings Doth bear those tender, sweet imaginings, That stir the soul to depths most dutiful. The merry clamour of the bells at Yule, The cuckoo's trumpet-call, when first it rings On unaccustom'd ears — and other Springs Fade fast before the mind's bright vestibule ! These, these are parts of Love ! but Love has more Than all the wealth of Nature can bestow — For he, who loves, has of Love's boundless store, A heart, a mind, whose riches overflow — But love one woman truly, and I'll swear Nature will seem ten thousand times more fair ! LOVE'S AWAKENING Dear, little heart, how soon hath sped the day That first awak'd our mutual sympathies ! Lending its charm to after-memories Of those sweet hours, that heavenward wing'd their way — Yes, Memory still may help me to array Each well-spent minute, with its thousand ties Of tendferest enchantment, while my sighs Shall hourly tell me of thy dear sweet sway. 'Tis strange how God hath ruled my destiny, That thy dear eyes should ever look on mine ! And that, in one short day, thou should'st entwine Thyself around my heart eternally ! — Bright eyes of light, whose dark embroidery Doth veil the inner secret of a shrine ! LOVE'S WELCOME I LOVE ! I hear its music in the air — Ten thousand melodies awake the night, Ten thousand choirs their heavenly songs indite, And every voice sings rapture to my ear ! Can this be night, the brightness is so fair ? — My Hall of Love is lit with crystal light To welcome her who is my Lady bright. And earth and sky a richer radiance wear ! Shine on for ever o'er this heart of mine, Ye night, and stars, and thou who lovelier art Than what my wildest fancy might portray ! Entwine thy halloVd glory round my heart. And so encloud me, till I swoon away, A victim to the Love that is divine. LOVE'S PILLOW I CAN no more mine eyes to sleep compose, And thou alone — sweet cause of my unrest, Yet think not I would drive thee from my breast. Though ne'er again I might mine eyelids close. And thou hath closed thy petals, like the Rose, And, snugly shelter'd in thy little nest. Art dreaming of a love thy tears caress'd, Unconscious of thy lover and his woes ! Oh, would that I might tend thy lovely sleep, And guard the passage of thine incens'd breath ! — To dwell upon thy breast's entrancing steep Were all of Heaven, and too much of Death — The heart that once had beat so near to thine, Would stop for aye, when sever'd from its shrine ! LOVE'S ARDOUR Oh might I love thee but a second's birth ! That second were a life of happiness — For in it, might I not the secret guess, Of what life holds — the knowledge of thy worth ? How trivial, tasteless, all the joys of earth, If, having known thee, held thee in caress. Some cruel Fate forbade me to possess The vision of my dreams, my waking mirth ! But now I have no charm to know thee by — No sweet remembrance of a vanish'd joy ! And almost would I swear that thou art coy, Save that I feel the warmth within thine eye ! — - Oh, come to me ! give me thy lips to kiss, And then for ever will I dote on this ! LOVE'S SWEETNESS Love, sweet, thy breath is Hke the balm of dew, When gather'd from the Violet's dainty lips. Ere Phoebus yet hath slak'd his thirst in you — Thou freshest flow'ret soft'ning into blue — So sweet, so warm, so lovingly it tips Thy sovereign charm with bloom of Musk-Rose too. That all my soul is fled before the view. Then rest my head, as wearily it dips In speechless love, O rest it on thy breast — That, gently cradled in thy loving arms, I yet may feel the tremor of thy breath Playing adown my eyelids, as they rest Upon thy beauty and its thousand charms — So may I die ! — I wish none other death. LOVE'S ONENESS If I had lov'd thee less, I had been free To smile when others smiled — to hope, or fear, And lend to each such silent sympathy. As well might prove a friend was list'ning near. But loving thee, I have no eyes to see What others see, or feel as others feel — I have no thoughts that are not part of thee. And all my sweets from thoughts of thee I steal ! By day, by night, a presence everywhere. Thy mirror'd loveliness in all I see. As to the flowers are sunshine and fresh air, Thou art, dear sweet, the very life of me ! Thus loving thee far more than else beside, I've lost my friends, and thou dost merely chide ! LOVE'S BITTERNESS Why should I love, where others would despise ? Why idly hope you still may love me best ? — When every act doth wear a bold disguise, And othex friendships seem to stir thy breast ! And yet, to look but once upon those eyes — So darkly beautiful, so purely true — I, for my doubts, can but myself despise, And loathe myself for ever &o\xhtmg you / You — whom I'love beyond the bounds of pride ! Can I suspect you of foul treachery ? Shall jealous fears in my strong love abide ? Or is there estimate of love in me ? No, though mine eyes should tell me that you lied, I'd tear them out to prove thy constancy ! LOVE'S DILEMMA ' I could not love thee, Dear, so much. Loved I not Honour more.' Lovelace. I CANNOT part with thee. I cannot sever The golden links that bound me day by day — Yet, from thy lips, I take my life's endeavour — Stern Duty calls — You would not have me stay? Yet fret not, darling, though the shadows darken. And dreary seems the pathway of our love. Look up ! brave heart. Look up ! and dearest, hearken ! — 'Tis sure that ive shall some day meet above. And may your every wish in life be granted. And visions of celestial bliss be thine. And may your every step, by Love enchanted. Glow rosy with its messages divine. Till, to perfection, every virtue tends. And happy in your life your burden ends ! MISCELLANEOUS POEMS FOOTPRINTS OF ANGELS Angel footprints, deep embedded In the fruitful soil of youth — Bright ambitions, nobly wedded To a life of Love and Truth. II Guard thy heart ! — as though thy Lady Hung her costliest jewels there — What though friends may oft upbraid thee. There is one shall reap thy care ! Ill Let thy hand be firm and steady. Let thy heart be stout and true. Let thy feet be ever ready, Though the Master's calls be few. IV Every thought of self abandon' d. Every passion lull'd to rest. Every insult kindly pardon'd. Every angry word repress'd — 56 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS Thou may'st rend the veil asunder, See thy Master face to face ! — In thy Hfe reflect the wonder Of so fair a dwelling-place ! VI And, when age to youth succeedeth, Each fond memory shall appear. Like a voice, that sweetly pleadeth, Whisp'ring words of love and cheer. 1891. FORGIVENESS ' Must I forgive till seven times seven ? ' A voice within me cried — ' As thou would'st hope to be forgiven ' A voice within replied — And fAis my only hope of Heaven ? — O Lord, Thou know'st how hard I've striven To conquer all my pride ! And must I turn each smarting cheek, And kindly make reply ? — Mine arm is strong — my Faith is weak, And storm-tears cloud mine eye. ' Beyond his strength is no man tried,' That voice within again replied, 'Tis Heaven — to pass it by ! S8 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS III And have I but the hour withstood ? Revenge, a welcome guest ? And shall this second, fiercer flood O'erwhelm my battling breast ? O let me feel Thy Presence near ! — Thy words of Love alone can cheer. Alone can bring me rest. 1891. THE SPIRIT OF POETRY Home-returning in a shower, Found that I was smiling, At the very time and hour, Most men would be riling — Thus, if Nature prove unkind. Only a poetic mind Can laugh, without reviling ! ON FRIENDSHIP Why are friends, like summer showers, As fresh as they are fleeting ? Why are friends, like all sweet flowers. That die within the greeting ? — The sweetest sweets the soonest cloy, Our dearest hopes deceive us, And so with Friendship's fitful joy — It only smiles to grieve us ! ON A PAINTING OF KILCHURN CASTLE By Horatio M'Culloch {Formerly hung in the dining-room at Ralston) When on thy ruin'd grandeur The evening shadows glance, My soul is fill'd with wonder And held as in a trance — While, through the labyrinth of my brain. The pealing Slogan's weird refrain Rings stories of Romance. II In all thine ancient splendour I picture thee array'd— The stately Loch's defender. High-mantling 'neath the shade Of mighty hills, whose topmost peaks Are snow-capp'd through the wintry weeks, Whose glories never fade ! 62 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS III While, murmuring in the distance, The streamlets of Loch Awe, Pour forth their sweet existence Upon thy pebbled shore, And, o'er the prospect, far and wide. Reflect new glories, as they stride Right onwards to thy door ! IV Thy bastion'd walls must often Have stemm'd the tide of War, And hurl'd, in dire confusion. To Pluto's gloomy shore The invet'rate foe — while sword in hand The wild Macgregors clear'd the strand, Their tartans steep'd in gore ! V Some day, my darling pleasure. Thy History I'll read. And in my memory treasure Each worthy thought and deed. And then again, in verse, I'll try To beautify thy mystery. And on my fancy feed ! 1890. MY TWENTY-FIRST BIRTHDAY The dawn of my manhood hath risen in light, For the Sun in his glory appears ! And around me all-smiling, like Stars of the night Are the children he tenderly rears — And each little face, in its diamond hue. Is a gem of the rarest degree, And each little stem, in its mantle of blue. Is impearl'd like the shells of the sea. Ill The breath of their fragrance, enrich'd by the dew, Doth enravish the lips of the Wind. The birds of the forest their lyrics renew. And awake is the harp of the mind ! 64 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS IV Farewell to my Youth, and its echoing mirth ! Farewell to the days that are flown ! Farewell to the flowers, that plenish'd the earth On the day when I touch'd Twenty-one ! Yet, why should I pine for the flowers that fade ? And why should I pine for the dew ? — The Great God, who gave them — who silently made, His choicest of gifts can renew ! 1890. WRECK OF THE ROUMANIA October 27, 1892 Rolling and pitching all day in the trough of the sea, Worn by the crash of the waves and their madd'ning din, Cold from the deck and the cabin, we seek but to flee From the terrors that night and the tempest are gathering in ! — Warm in our bunks, with the thoughts of Home and Death — With the darkness more intense, and the night more dread. And the lash of the seething foam, and the pause for breath, As another mountainous mass falls back to its ocean bed— Another plunge, and a jar — a wrench as of wroughten iron, And stem to stern she's fast, for the waves are drown- ing her ! 66 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 'All hands on deck,' 'Each man for himself,' — that man a Lion, Who can save himself in the boiUng surf — no time for prayer ! Ah Hamilton ! ^ thy love and thy life were held in the balance long, But thou wast saved as the nobler soul, and she thou lov'dst is gone ! — And death had seem'd more sweet perhaps, if, conscious of thy wrong, Thou hadst seen her torn from thy stalwart arms, and lost in the waves, alone I All peace to those who perish'd there, loyal at the post of death ! All peace to those who perish'd there, with terror at the breast ! All peace to those, the friends at home, beneath whose silent breath Many an anxious prayer went up that night on wings of rest ! 1 Captain Hamilton was reported to have jumped overboard, with his wife in his arms, and to have been washed ashore un- conscious. He was one of two survivors from this terrible disaster. SONNETS SONNETS , 69 DEAN LIDDELL {Christ Church) December 1891 Dear crown of manliness and fervid truth ! Thy gentle reign, of over thirty years, Is drawing to its close, and silent tears Attest the sorrows of our heyday-youth. And have we words to tell our bitter ruth. And break a silence that our love endears ? — A living memory of our past arrears Shall make us feel our praise is all uncouth ! Our grief is one with thine, dear Master-friend — And we shall miss thee at thy wonted seat, And other Lords will claim our reverence meet, And other feet will on our steps attend. Yet thou, our first love, shalt be to the end The master-power that made our lives complete 1 70 SONNETS In Jlemoriam DUKE OF CLARENCE AND AVONDALE January 14, 1892 Ill-fated Prince ! — but yesterday a King ! — As far as our poor intellects might pry Into Time's vast and dim obscurity — But yesterday ! — and now no sceptred thing ! Unhappy Prince ! too, too unhappy Bride ! The Hand of Fate hath struck thee in the face, And scarr'd the gentle velvet of the place With one deep wound which Time alone may hide. Princess ! a Nation mourns thy widow'd heart — We, who had hoped, in after times, to call Thee 'Empress Queen,' must follow now the pall That leads thy Dearest to his place apart — We weep for thee. Yet Love hath Sorrow charm'd, His sepulchre is our deep love embalm'd. SONNETS 71 TO THE MEMORY OF HAROLD LEWIS FFOLKES^ Drowned February 13, 1892 How many more shall pay the Tyrant Death The forfeit of their lives for carelessness ? — Indiff'rence to the laws that rule us less By forc'd obedience, than by Reason's breath. A child will play above a precipice, Unconscious of the death that yawns below, But, warn'd of danger, he will quick forego The rapture of the joys that late were his. How often shall the warning come to you ? You, who have larger sense — though senseless late !— Who daily tamper with the tools of Fate, Who, though no swimmers, court the light canoe ! Ah, Harold Lewis Ffolkes ! Thy gallant end Shall serve for an example — He died to save his friend. 1 Mr. Harold L. Ffolkes, an undergraduate of Exeter College, Oxford, was drowned on the upper Thames, near Godstow, whilst attempting to rescue a friend whose canoe had upset. The friend was saved. 72 SONNETS DEATH OF TENNYSON October 6, 1892 Mourn, all ye Nations, mourn ! for he is dead. The sweetest singer of our later choir, Whose thoughts were borne aloft on wings of fire, And Truth and Beauty left us in their stead. The last of all our prophets now is fled — Fled is the music of his magic lyre, The melody of half a world's desire, A gift of love for ever garlandfed. Sunrise and sunset shall go fleeting by. And all the voice of Nature now be mute, Since he, who lov'd them, leaves us but his lute, With none the master of its minstrelsy. Yet in his life and death what joy have we, Who knew the tree, and tasted of its fruit ! SONNETS 73 THE FIGHT OVER THE NEWMAN STATUE IN OXFORD 1 February 1892 Is Bigotry the order of the day ? Must we, of larger faith, submit our views To a minority ? — whose least excuse Is threaten'd violence to our right of way ! And Lawlessness, a fit companion, aye. To Christian zeal in most un-Christlike cause — To rob an Hero of his just applause, And we the heirs of such a legacy ! Shall Time reprove us of the wrong we do ? — Our petty spitefulness, our lack of pride — Shall these roll on through ages, and abide An earnest of our faith — our weakness too ? Lo ! through the years, the clouds are backward driven. One Universal Faith ! one Hope ! one Heaven ! 1 The University, in fine contrast to the open-mindedness shown by a large majority of the citizens, strenuously opposed the erection of a statue to Newman, in Oxford, threatening that, if such a statue were erected, it would immediately be pulled down ! 74 SONNETS OXFORD V. CAMBRIDGE After the Match (Paddington, 9.15 p.m. Saturday) What are these cries that rend th' affrighted air ? — 'Oriel!' and ''Varsity!' — 'Ta-ra-ra-boom- de-ay ! ' What is it that these maniacs would say — We are not drunk, though somewhat free from care ? 'Tis but the outcome of a dire despair — Five goals to one — and Cambridge wins the day ! Whilst we of dark-blue faith must slink away, And o'er the bowl our former fights declare. Alas, that some should overtax their strength, And play the fool before an idle crowd, Whilst Paddington's high alcoves give aloud The silly ravings of the drunken tenth — Above the din a voice is heard profane, ' And this is eddication, gentlemen ! ' 1892. SONNETS 75 STRAINED RELATIONS The guest of Sorrow and her sister Care, I slept in their strange mansion yester-night, Where foulest dreams disturb'd my restful right, And left me wide-awake with icy stare ! I breakfasted in those same Halls to-day — The pictures frown'd upon me in their gloom, And all was dark and deadly as the tomb, I fled — though I was press'd upon to stay ! On, on, I flew towards the sunny South — The fields and waters, laughing at my haste, Sang merrily their songs from mouth to mouth. And I felt bashful and the half disgraced. To-night I dine with other friends, but they Are not relations, dare I so to say ! 1892. 76 SONNETS TO E. G. Oft have I plann'd, and thought to write of thee, Dearest and best of friends — yet, when I think Of what thou art to me, my soul doth shrink From words, which, after all, are but a sea Of thoughts confus'd — nor would I raise a doubt That I could love thee less, or love thee more. Than when, in days gone by, we wander'd o'er The Hills at Cove — and did you then find out How much I valued your sweet company ? The deepest love is nurtur'd silently — E'en so my boast of love was rather small — The smaller for its greatness — yet, you knew. For Friendship's dear account, I valued you All other friends before — and that is all ! 1890. SONNETS 77 ON THE ABUSE OF PARENTAL AUTHORITY How many little hearts are daily sour'd, By parent force, or cold tyrannic will ! How many little hearts are daily dower'd, With words, that work their own unfailing ill ! — Man, in his arrogance, may think to still The thoughts that Heaven on early Youth hath shower'd — I would that these same Tyrants were devour'd By half the anguish in the breasts they chill ! Abuse is ruin to a tender child, Nor does it ever run its destin'd course — ■ The strong are goaded on to madness wild. The weak are driven to the verge of death ! 'Tis ever thus— the World is ruled by force ! Great God 1 why should we lose their gentle breath ! 1890. — 78 SONNETS " THE STORY OF A LIFE (From a Fainting) In the foreground a gondolier is toying with his wife and child — when from the quay above, to which their boat is moored, a lady arrests his attention : — ' My lady and her dog ! ' — ' What is it, Sweet, ' That makes her pout those lips so scornfully, ' As if to shake the dust from off her feet ' At love so plain as ours, so full of glee ? ' Perhaps she thinks that Love may only greet ' The high-born lady and her ancestry ? ' Perhaps she thinks that Love is only meet ' For such as live in castles by the sea ? ' Nay, little heart, she needs our sympathy — ' There came a courtly knight from lands afar, ' Who woo'd my lady, deep in secret bower, ' And left her desolate within an hour — ' Her life is now one long eternal war ' With all that was most dear to her before ! ' SONNETS 79 AN EQUATORIAL SUNSET The sun has set, and sea and sky are blending In tints of purple, amaranth, and gold. While fretted clouds, that stretch in line unending, New harmonies of light and shade unfold — Like Sappho's burning cheek, or Elmo's fire, The Western main is steep'd in crimson hues. Which deepen shade on shade — till Evening views The calm approach of Night — then all retire, And Erebus takes up the reins of Time ! — When lo ! from out the waves, apparell'd bright. In all her witchery of golden light. Fair Venus rises, radiantly sublime — And, 'mid the jewell'd splendour of the sky. Calls forth a tear from many a lover's eye ! 1890. So SONNETS EVENING AT SEA A PERFECT night ! — a night of calm at sea, In all its grace and all its purity ! And not a sound, save where the glitt'ring spray Falls off in emerald furrows round our way. Myriads of little stars, divinely fair, Come shimm'ring through the vestures of the night- And Venus, in her loveliness, is there, Enthroned Queen of all those realms of light ! Now, from the furthest disc, comes peeping forth, Diana, in her chastest robes of snow. Pale as the daylight in the frozen North, Yet full of sympathy as lovers know^ For, in her eyes, such tender words they read. That on her looks they only need to feed ! SONNETS 8r A VICE OF IND^ Barbaric vice, inherent cruelty — The pageantry of Hindu pomp and power ! Inhuman lust, time-honour'd butchery — The mongoose seeking whom he may devour. While Briton's sons sit all-approving by, And gloat upon a reptile's agony ! What man can call himself a man, and cause The vilest of God's creatures needless pain ? What man can call himself a man, who draws From cruelty the keen delight of Spain ? — The harmless water-snake by torture bled. To glut the fancy of a British eye ! The mongoose clinging to its lifeless head — Lifeless ! ah, No — 'twill bleed again, and die. ' It is a custom with Indian jugglers to wind up their per- formance with an exhibition of a death-contest between the mongoose and the snake. The mongoose is a small animal of the weasel tribe, whose chief property lies in the fact that it is absolutely impervious to the bites of the most venomous snakes G 82 SONNETS —such as the Cobra, and is thus their natural and sworn foe ! The mongoose, being very quick in its actions, seizes the snake from the outset by the head, and shakes and mauls it into apparent death. The snake is then held up by the juggler in triumph, and backshish demanded from the delighted crowd. Now, first, the victim of these performances is the harmless water-snake, and secondly, its mortal remains are most carefully stowed away in a basket, till some fiiture occasion shall require it to give a further exhibition of its suffering 1 That Englishmen should encourage such instinctive cruelty — which without their patronage must cease to exist — is indeed deplorable ! EPIGRAMS I THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE He raised his harp, and flung aloft Its utmost power of song — Though thousands jeer'd, and thousands scoff'd, One httle smile, as sweet, as soft, Repaid him for his wrong ! 11 TO MY WIFE With a Volume of Keats' Poems Such a sweet friend as thou hast been to me, May this be to thee, in adversity ! ni THE INSUFFICIENCY OF SONG I HAVE no song that I would wish to give thee — There are no words to tell how much I love I One only wish — that I might never leave thee, And dwell with thee above ! IV LOVE'S BEWILDERMENT Bright eyes gazed silently on mine — Alas, their darkling splendour ! Yet, why should I for those dear eyes repine ? 'Twas but a look of wonder ! V ESTRANGED You spoke to me harshly, unkindly last night, When my heart was full of love — You rain'd on me scorn, from your realms above. And left me passionless quite I VI IS LOVE TENDER? She Is Love tender ? Is Love kind ? Leaves he not his sting behind ? He Yes, he scorns the timid holder — Nettle-wise he loves the bolder ! VII A WOMAN'S EYES A woman's eyes are everywhere, Though seeming set in one direction — You spy some tangle in her hair, And see how long it 'scapes detection ! VIII LINES ADDRESSED TO A FRIVOLOUS YOUNG LADY ON HER BIRTHDAY Do not let this thought distress — One year more is one year less — May it teach you to be wise, Live for others, and despise Coquetry and dress ! IX TO A BEAUTIFUL LADY ON HER WEARING A LOW DRESS Though God has given thee every nameless grace, And Wealth, as handmaid, to thy Loveliness — In what weak moment didst thou deign to dress Thy breasts for show — and put to shame thy face ? X DEATH-IN-LIFE I LIVED, and lov'd, and was belov'd in turn — But Death has seal'd the eyes that gave me light. I blindly linger on, and hope that Night Will close for ever o'er my Spirit's urn ! XI THE ABBEY OF ST. MARY.^ IN FURNESS Seven Henries woo'd thee through four hundred years — But tkou, for love, return'dst a vestal's vows. The Eighth first ask'd thee to become his spouse, And then, profan'd thee, 'mid thy suppliant tears ! ' This abbey was built during the reign of Henry I., and destroyed by Henry VIII. — the so-called ' Defender of the Faith ' ! XII SOME LADY NOVELISTS Women there are, who at this later day, Regardless of their mission — to be pure, Fashion their thoughts on things that are obscure, And far too deep for scribblers such as they ! XIII YOUNG DESIRE When young Desire first shakes his lustrous wings, Rejoicing in the strength which manhood brings — What charm can keep his passionate heart secure ? This truth — Nine women out of ten are pure ! XIV HER SIN ' Still for all slips of hers One of Eve's family — ' Hood. She sinn'd — because her very soul took fire ! — And she, who most should move our tears to flood, As having lost the crown of womanhood, Is thrown upon the streets, besprent with mire ! XV HER ACCUSERS ' Alas ! for the rarity Of Christian charity 1 ' Hood. And what of those who tread her in the mud, Who look upon her as some loathly worm ?- She who was once so very fair of form !— God will demand of them a sister's blood ! XVI WAIFS AND STRAYS Their birthright — sin and sorrow from the first, Victims of man's insatiate desire ! Branded with infamy, though pure as fire— This Age out-Herods Herod at his worst ! XVII AN OLD TEXT IN A NEW COVER Take men for what you find them — Some are great, and some are small. Should you chance to get behind them — They are liars one and all ! XVIII MAN'S TOIL Each man would wish to be his own good-master, And, to encompass this, he spares no pain. 'Tis strange such energy should court disaster — Since those are happiest who last attain ! XIX BE THY GOLD STAINLESS ! 'Tis good for man to strive to be the first, Yet let him reason with himself the while — That all his steps are free from guilt or guile, Lest, in achievement, he may prove accurst t AMY ROBSART Such a friendship, at such a time. Were worth a world of rhyme I c. w. c. TO MY WIFE AMY ROBSART The hour is late, yet streaks of light appear Along the West, and fade, and glimmer there, With such enchantment in their still eclipse Over the hills and valleys and the tips Of many a forest at the horizon's brim, That the tall darkness seems afraid to swim Upon the land, and shut the eye of day. No sound of life, no stir of leaf at play — The world with all its voices is at rest, Its noise and tumult past into the West. When hark ! a voice upon the Autumn air Flooding the night with music of despair. So melancholy sweet, so full of woe — Alas ! that Love should be requited so ! What tender longing ! What affection dear ! A woman's love, with all its hope and fear ! o AMY ROBSART In every note the passion of a life, In every note a soul too sweet for strife — The hunger of a heart, for ever fed On love and hope, when hope and love are dead ! And what are these — these accents wild of grief? And, who is she, that sings her soul's relief? — Who, to the pitiless woods, from her high tower. Doth sing Love's requiem at evening hour. While Cumnor's shadows fade across the sky. And Twilight gathers up her skirts to fly. Sure such a voice was never heard in bower. Since Enid chanted love in Yniol's tower ! Sure never lady's face was seen so fair. Since sweet Elaine gave Love her lilies rare, And paled the violet in the tender Spring By her soft eyes, and gentle colouring ! But now a name — the keynote of it all — At sound of which more eyes than one would fall ! ' Leicester ! my Leicester, could this voice of mine Recall thee to thy duty, and these eyne But show thee half the sorrow that I bear, Since to thine eyes I am no longer fair, Or could mine arms thy wonted ardours fan, And thou rejoice in love but once again ! I might forget the past, and learn to live AMY ROBSART in In memory of what thou once didst give — The passion and the rapture of thy kiss, That fatal madness, which I took for bliss, Those eyes that seem'd to pierce my very soul, And rob me of all maidenly control. The subtle poison of thy matchless tongue, On whose least accent I so fondly hung ! All these I might forego — Ah, death to me, That, what I liv'd for, I no longer see ! That never more for me shall love be sweet, Nor ever hear the trail of Angels' feet ! That never more shall Spring-time bring me hope. Nor Summer crown, nor Autumn gild life's slope ! But Winter ! always Winter — bleak and cold ! Until I take my journey— sorrow told ! ' How happier far the days, when young and free, I lisp'd my sorrows on a father's knee, When all my joys, and all my cares were his, And every secret shar'd — save only this ! Ah, had I then, too foolish maid, given ear To his fond counsel and persuasion dear, I might have stood, where I too easy fell — And thou been victim, where I lov'd too well ! Yet, Leicester ! am I mad to love thee so, Whose hateful scorn should trample out my woe ? Must pity ever in my breast abide. 2 AMY ROBSART And hope of freedom vanish with my pride ? Is this the doom of Love — that love should be A thing impossible 'twixt thee and me ? Thou, whose first vows were sweet as manna dew — Thy breathless kisses, thrilling through and through, Whose every word some extra promise gave. That I should never ask, what now I crave ! That Pyramids might crumble in the dust. And thrones and empires perish in their lust. And all the sands, and all the seas run dry. And mountains quit their mansions in the sky, Ere I might doubt a Dudley's plighted word — And / have leave to slay thee with thy sword ! 'And such the oath, and such the promise given — Alas ! — there is but one thing under Heaven, That never Dudley yet had strength to face ! — Ambition is the curse of that proud race — The prospect of advancement in the state. And honour, virtue, everything might wait ! A Dudley never question'd whom he slew — The end would justify the means — and few. Who cross'd their path, their line of crossing knew ! A Dudley's weapon pierc'd, where steel might fail. In days when poison lurk'd beneath the nail — A glove, a letter, some such friendly token. And, with the seal, the chords of life were broken ! AMY ROBSART 113 ' But now, a Virgin Queen had shown him grace, Had prais'd him to the Court, and to his face. Had flatter'd him with hopes beyond his dreams, Consulted him on all her maiden schemes — With such a vista op'ning to his eyes, What wonder if a Dudley saw the prize ! What wonder if his love for Amy wan'd, Where honour, loyalty, and truth were strain'd ! What wonder if he wish'd the past undone. With but a step 'twixt virtue and the throne ! Oh, Memory ! wilt thou scald me with thy tears ? Thy sympathy is past — thy friendship sears ! My hope is shatter'd, and my trust is gone. And I am left abandon'd and alone ! — ' Be calm, my soul, I yet have strength within To give my life, a sacrifice for sin ! — To pray, in some still convent fervently. That help may come for him, and peace to me — That, when we meet again in Heaven above. Our lives may then be perfected in love ! ' So sang that Lady of her soul's despair, Making low moan upon the midnight air, And with faint sobs, and tender hands of grief. She stretch'd to God — and knew her soul's relief. When Morning came, it found her kneeling there. With tearful hands still clasp'd in earnest prayer ! 114 AMY ROBSART But Morning rose on other hills and towers, And kiss'd fair Windsor's streams and shady bowers — Here all was stir, and hurrying to and fro. While hounds were baying in the court below, And horses champ'd the bit, and hearts ran high, 'Mid eager questions if the scent would lie. The Queen had promis'd to review the sport. And loyal hearts took pleasure in the thought. The noble Earl of Leicester, at her side, Rode like a prince, in all his stately pride — The Earl — the envy of all gallant men — The Queen — what maid had not been Countess then ! How far their interest centred in the chase. Imagination might be left to trace ! But Maids and Courtiers knew when to retire — They had been less than mortal to inquire. If lovers sought the air for other food Than what their lips and hearts might well make good ! So all that morn by forest, lake, and fen. Where Nature wound by many a secret glen, And every voice that broke from copse or tree, Was eloquent of Love and Liberty, The Queen and Leicester rode — silent for shame To mention love, which neither dared to name, And yet their eyes too often met, to fear What each from either had been pleas'd to hear ! AMY RQBSAR T 115 What each had waited months and months to tell ! What each had learnt, yet knew not how to spell ! At length the Queen broke silence — yet with voice So tremulous, it seem'd to mock her choice ! ' Leicester ! this day of love must be our last. Far other duties in the world thou hast — And /have been too weak, and thou too strong. Or else thou hadst not done thyself this wrong ! Return to her, who claim'd thy earliest vows — Elizabeth her sweetest thanks bestows — The past is as a day, too soon forgot — What knows my Dudley of his future lot ! ' ' Nothing, my Queen, save that apart from thee, Dudley has but one wish, and that — to die ! Despoil me of my honours, rank, and fame. And all my service, done in thy dear name. But leave me still the privilege of my sword. And, but to serve thee, as my life's reward ! I cannot live without thy peerless sight — Then doom me not to shades of endless night ! I never loved before ! — Be this my vow How much I love in earnest — even now ! And Amy Robsart — witness, Heaven above! A boyish fancy, that I took for love ! — Elizabeth ! you must, you shall be mine ! In Love there is no law, human, divine — ii6 AMy ROBSART It is our fate ! Then yield to Fate — not me, And I will give my life to worship thee ! ' 'No, Dudley ! no — it cannot, must not be — Were I, as other maidens, fancy free, Then might I choose my happiness — but now A Nation claims the love / cannot show.' Ah ! Night, thou mother of all human ill, Whose own accursed progeny doth fill The palace, as the sheep-cots of the poor, Adventuring lust and crime from door to door- How long wilt thou torment us with thy sight, And virtue pale before thy damning light ? And canst thou listen to such words as these. And aid a murderer in his fell decrees ? — ' Yes, Varney, yes — despatch her as thou wilt ! But see thou leave behind no trace of guilt ! If once suspicion rest upon my name, I were as like to wed the block, as fame ! " The wrath of Kings is as a flaming fire," And Tudor blood was never slow to ire ! And this Elizabeth, with all her smiles, Has somewhat of the serpent in her wiles — But what thou doest, let not thy hand reveal — A heart of iron, and a breast of steel ! ' AMY ROBSART 117 Dark is the night, but not more dark than dread, While heavy hangs the tempest overhead, And sulphurous vapours roll along the ground, And murder seems abroad in every sound, Another pause — and we had ceas'd to breathe — But now the thunder breaks the ban of death With rattling bursts that rend the very skies. And now the darkness opens to our eyes. And all the terrors of the storm lie bare ! — The weird fantastic demons of the air. In shapes of ugliness resembling sin. Are dancing wildly on the village Inn ! — While Cumnor towers are wrapt in lambent fire, As round them sweep the storm-fiends in their ire ! And many a watch-dog howl'd that night from fear, And many a maiden wish'd her lover near. And many a gable end was split in twain. And many an oak lay shatter'd on the plain — And, ever as the wind went moaning by. An aerial voice was heard from out the sky — And still that plaintive voice rings in my ears — ' Dudley, I do absolve thee through my tears ! ' 1893. Printed by R. & R, Clark, Limited, Edinburgh.