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 The golden age:a satire.By Alfred Austin 
 
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THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
LONDOK : 
 ROBSOK AND SONS, PBINTEBS, PiKORAS ROAD, N.W. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE: 
 
 % Safe. 
 
 ALFRED AUSTIN, 
 
 AUTHOR OP ' THE SEASON, A SATIRE ;' ' THE HDMAN TRAGEDY ;' 
 ' A TIKDIOATION OP LORD BTROIT," ETC. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 CHAPMAN" AND HALL, 193 PICCADILLY. 
 1871. 
 
 [All rights reservprl.} 
 
 Ps 
 

 h.o-^^M "^ 
 
ERRATUM. 
 Page 6, verse 5,/ar beauteous read bounteous. 
 
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/cu31924013209527 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 A WBiTEE has so few fitting opportunities of address- 
 ing Ms readers on the subject of his own compositions, 
 that the author of The Golden Age trusts he wUl be 
 pardoned for seizing this occasion to make the follow- 
 ing brief obserrations. Though partly retrospective, 
 they would not have been expressed at all but for their 
 bearing on his future designs. 
 
 It is just ten years since he published The Sea- 
 son ; and he has no reason to complain of the recep- 
 tion accorded to it both then and since, especially when 
 he reflects that its literary method and its ethical aim 
 are diametrically opposed to the form and purpose 
 of those poetical compositions for which the taste of 
 our day has shown so decided a partiality. But, about 
 a twelvemonth after the first appearance of The Sea- 
 son, he ventured to submit to the public a longer and 
 more ambitious work, entitled The Human Tragedy. 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 Its fate is accurately described by a foreign critic :* 
 ' Ce romam-poeme fut simplement voue au neant, et 
 regarde comme non avenu.' After explaining what, 
 in his opinion, was the cause of this indifference, he 
 is good enough to add : ' Une indifference immeritie, 
 hdtons-nous de la declarer, attendu que Voeuvre nou- 
 velle etait de beaucoup superiewe au poeme dont on 
 av ait fait si grand bruit.' 
 
 It is because this opiaion is likewise the opinion 
 of the author himself, and is strongly confirmed by 
 the priyately expressed testimony of persons on whose 
 judgment and candour he can best rely, that he pro- 
 poses to persist in a scheme he has long entertained, 
 of giving to The Human Tragedy that fourfold as- 
 pect and development — ^the Eeligious, the Eomantic, 
 the Ethnical, and the Humanitarian — which it seems 
 to him, unhappUy, but too capable of assuming. He 
 can only say that he has sought to arrive at no such 
 conclusion, stiU less to be its mouthpiece and inter- 
 preter. They have both forced themselves upon him, 
 
 * ' Un Bomancier Satmque Anglais :' Revue des Deux Mondes, 
 15 Septembre 1865. If the author is obliged to boiTow the lan- 
 guage of a foreign critic, it is because his works have never had 
 the honour of being criticised in his native tongue. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 and he appears to have no option. In obedience to 
 this new task, The Hwman Tragedy, as it originally 
 stood, and which treated only of what is strangely 
 called the softer passion, has been withdrawn from 
 circulation. 
 
 As for the following Satire, it has occupied the 
 author's mind for several years, and his pen for several 
 months. But for the iabsorbing duel between France 
 and Germany, of which he was throughout a close 
 spectator, it would have been published last autumn. 
 He long resisted writing it ; but now that it is written 
 and is being given to the world, he must add that it 
 expresses his most profound if melancholy convic- 
 tions. 
 
 March 16tft, 1871. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 The first Golden Age. Its disappearance. Its promised return. 
 Non-fulfilment of the Promise. The craving after and joyful dis- 
 covery of Another ; and the foundation, through ths pursuit of 
 Gold, of the Golden Age as a permanent institution. The view 
 of existence which first presents itseU to the ingenuous boy. The 
 destruction of his day-dreams by golden experience, and his per- 
 version to rational views of life. His success. Occasionally even, 
 his failure. The early lays of Lelius, and his final domestication 
 in Gruh-street. Comparison of so-called artists, their merits and 
 rewards, with those of the real artists of other times. Love of 
 the simple girl for Hylas, her admii'ation for Solon, her respect 
 for Cato, and her marriage with Croesus. The results of this 
 happy union. The career of Plutus. He flings his purse to the 
 heavenly maid Olympia, who picks it up amid the congratula- 
 tions of the polite world. Their agreeable life together, and final 
 separation in the Divorce Court, where Plutus has his horns 
 tipped with gold. The rage for gold by no means confined 
 to the base-born or the vulgar. The war-horse refined to the 
 two -year -old, to gratify modem aristocratic tastes and aspira- 
 tions. The Story of LucuUus. The Horrors of War exchanged 
 for the Horrors of Peace ; Feudalism supplanted by Competition ; 
 and Force deposed in favour of Fraud. The domestic nriseiy 
 wi'ought by the latter, compared with the havoc imputed by His- 
 tory to the former, considered at length. The wealth and splen- 
 dour of London. Its poverty and squalor. The Golden Mean 
 between these two extremes, and some of the Golden Mean's con- 
 sequences. Adulteration of Food. Life -belts made of straw. 
 Baby-farming and Infanticide. Thanks to Gold, Woman as case- 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 hardened as Man. Clara and Claribel. Our Private Worth equalled 
 by our Public Virtue. Servility and Bribery the paths to Parlia- 
 ment. Men's mode of getting into it matched by their anxiety for 
 their country when they succeed. The powerlessness of such Le- 
 gislators to arrest or control the Crowd. The Lords as servile as 
 the Commons, and for the same motives. The Aristocracy implored 
 to be honest, it they are not allowed to be wise, and to save theii' 
 Country by a virtuous example. The Muse's Remonstrance with 
 a young Prince. Our Foreign Policy as much directed by the love 
 of gold as om- domestic fortunes. The abandonment of Denmark. 
 The Second French Empii-e built on gold. Its disappearance in a 
 day. The French Army and Nation alike corrupted by gold, and 
 their successive defeat and humiliation. The Victor coaxed home- 
 wards over a bridge of gold. Parallel between England and 
 France. Gold the guiding Genius of both. Our Peace-at-any- 
 price Policy, and our gradual dismemberment of the Empire in order 
 to save our gold. The futility of such a course demonstrated. 
 The comparison with Tarpeia, and the culminating betrayal of 
 England. Summons to Britain to confront the world in arms, if 
 necessary. Failing spirit enough for that, the Author prays that 
 the glacial period may return, and the Island be once more wrapped 
 in impenetrable mists. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Long ere the Muse the strenuous chords had swept, 
 And the first lay as yet in silence slept, 
 A Time there was which since has stirred the lyre 
 To notes of wail and accents warm with fire ; 
 Moved the soft Mantuan to his silvery strain,"^ 
 And him who sobbed in pentametric pain;^ 
 
 " The bii'tliplaee of Virgil is conclusively ascertained to have 
 1)een close to Mantua, however scholars may dispute ahout the spot 
 of his interment. The lines, however, which are known to have once 
 heen iuscrihed on the tomb in whose presence Boccaccio abjured 
 the mercantile pursuits to which his father had dedicated him, must 
 always remain an admirable sunimary of his life and labours : 
 
 ' Mantua me genuit ; CaJabri rapuere ; tenet nunc 
 Parthenope. Cecini pascua, rura, duces.' 
 
 * I fear there is a sufficient number of learned people in this 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 To whicti the World, waxed desolate and old, 
 Fondly reverts, and calls tlie Age of Gold. 
 
 Then, mthout toil, by vale and mountain 
 . side. 
 Men found their few and simple wants supplied ; 
 Plenty, like dew, dropped subtle from the air. 
 And Earth's fair gifts rose prodigal as prayer. 
 
 world to make it necessary to state, that though the alternation 
 of the pentameter with the hexameter, which constituted in Latin 
 the elegiac metre, was the favourite metrical method of Ovid, and 
 is one of the . chief .beauties of the Tristia, his well-known pass- 
 age on the Age of Gold . and its successors occm-s in a poem 
 Where the hexameter alone is employed. Though I don't think I 
 ever knew the passage in question hy heart, and had certainly 
 not read it for nearly twenty years when I wrote the opening lines 
 of this satire,. how.largely, I was indebted to unconscious recollec- 
 tion of it may be seen by a reference to the first book of the 
 Metamorphoses, v. 89-150. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Love, with, no charms except its own to lure, 
 
 Was swiftly answered by a love as pure- 
 
 No need for wealth; each glittering fruit and 
 
 flower, ■ ' ' 
 
 Each star, each streamlet, made the maiden's 
 
 dower. 
 Far in the future lurlred maternal throws. 
 And children blossomed painless as the rose. 
 No harrowing question ' why,' no torturing ' how,' 
 Bent the lithe frame or knit the youthful brow. 
 The growing mind had naught to seek or shun ; 
 Like the plump fig it ripened in the sun. 
 From dawn to dark Man's life was steeped in joy. 
 And the gray sire was happy as the boy. 
 Nature with Man yet waged no troublous strife, 
 And Death was almost easier than Life, 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Safe on its native mountains throve the oak, 
 Nor ever groaned 'neath greed's relentless stroke. 
 No fear of loss, no restlessness for more,*" 
 Drove the poor mariner from shore to shore. 
 No distant mines, by penury divined, 
 Made him the sport of fickle wave or wind. 
 Rich for secure, he checked each wish to roam. 
 And hugged the safe felicity of home.'' 
 
 " It has been objected by a private critic, that ' fear of loss' 
 does not drive people from shore to shore, whatever ' restlessness 
 for more' may do. But I submit that we have reached that refined 
 pitch of civilisation, at which men hold their wealth with so little 
 sense of security, that it is often the positive dread of its slipping 
 away from them which makes them plunge into speculation. 
 
 ■' Here the latent reminiscence of Ovid becomes more marked. 
 He writes : 
 
 ' Nondum cssa suis, peregrinum ut viseret orbem, 
 Montibus, in liquidas pinns descenderat undas, 
 NuUaque mortales praeter sua litora norant ;' 
 which, I lately discovered, Dryden has thus rendered : 
 
 ' The mountain trees in distant prospect please. 
 Ere yet the pine descended to the seas ; 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Those days are long gone by ; but who shall 
 
 say 
 Why, like a dream, passed Satiu-n's Reign 
 
 away? 
 Over its rise, its ruin, hangs a veil. 
 And naught remains except a Golden Tale. 
 Whether 'twas sin or hazard that dissolved 
 That happy scheme by kindly Gods evolved ; 
 Whether Man fell by lucklessness or pride, — ^ 
 Let jarring sects, and not the Muse, decide. 
 
 Ere Bails were spread new oceans to explore, 
 And happy mortals, unconcerned for more, 
 GonJSned their wishes to their native shore.' 
 
 « The mild Virgil, whose reference to the Age of Gold in the 
 fest took of the Georgics is exceedingly brief, gives a reason for 
 its termination worthy of a Calvinist divine : 
 
 ' Pater ipse eolendi 
 Hand facUem esse viam volnit, primusqne per artem 
 Movit agros, cm-is acuens mortalia corda.' 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 But when that crtiel Fiat smote the earth, 
 
 Primeval Joy was poisoned at its birth. 
 
 In sorrow stole the infant from the womb, 
 
 The aged crept in sorrow to the tomb. 
 
 The ground, so beauteous once, reftised to bear 
 
 More than was wrung by sower, seed, and 
 
 share. ' 
 Offctimes would ruthless winds or torrents raze ' 
 The ripening fruit of toilsome nights and days* 
 Each one in turn grew jealous of his own. 
 And fenced his patch with ditch and churlish 
 
 stone. 
 As greed uprose, and greed engendered strife. 
 Contention raged coincident with life. 
 Man against man, maid against maiden tiu-ned. 
 And the soft breast with envious passions bmTied. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 The loss of one was hailed as others' gain, 
 
 And pleasTire took unnatural birth from pain. 
 
 Goaded by woe, and through tradition's lore 
 
 Mindful of all the blissfolness of yore, 
 
 The Human Race, its sorrows to assuage, 
 
 Dreamed afar off a second Golden Age ; 
 
 Not in the dim irrevocable Past, 
 
 But in a Future just as vague and vast. 
 
 The prophet's lips, the poet's flattering pen. 
 
 Revelled in forecasts of that golden Then. 
 
 The days should come when grief would be no 
 
 more. 
 And Peace and Plenty rule from shore to shore ; 
 AUmen alike enjoy what none did earn, 
 And even more than Saturn's Reign retm-n. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 As years rolled on, as centuries went by, 
 And still that Proniised Time seemed no more 
 
 nigli,^ 
 Mankind at length, outwearied with delays, 
 Gave up all hope of those seductive days. 
 Then other prophets, other scribes arose, 
 A nearer, surer Eden to disclose. 
 ' 0, long-befooled!' they said, 'awake, and 
 
 deem 
 The Past a tale, the Future but a dream. 
 Here, in the living Present, act your part,s 
 Straining its vulgar blessings to your heart. 
 
 * We have still among us a sanguine race of mortals who be- 
 Uere that the Golden Age is not behind us, hut still to come, 
 and that we are marching steadily and perceptibly towards it. 
 Perhaps the events of the last few years hare somewhat shaken 
 the holders of this amiable creed. 
 
 E This would seem to be the theory favom-ed by the present 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Let hand with, hand and brain with brain con- 
 tend, 
 And each one labour to some selfish end. 
 In wealth and riot, luxury and power, 
 Baffle the mockery of the transient hour. 
 If thousands fall, if tens of thousands bleed. 
 Will not a hundred, or a score, succeed '? 
 Let those who cannot yield to those who can — 
 Fate has its piles of victims ; why not Man? 
 Better a furious fight where some one wins, 
 Than sluggish life which ends as it begins. 
 
 Laureate, and much in vogue at tlie time of his writing T)m Golden 
 
 Year : 
 
 'What stuff is this! 
 Old writers pushed the happy season back, — 
 The more fools they, — we f onward ; dreamers hoth. 
 
 but weE I know 
 
 That unto him who works and feels he works, 
 This same gi'and year is ever at the doors.' 
 
lo THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Vain was tlie bard who, whilst the World was new, 
 'Twixt men and beasts the fond distinction drew, 
 That these confine their downward gaze to earth, 
 AVhilst man looks np, enamoured of his birth.^ 
 Not in the skies, but deep beneath the soil, 
 There will you find your happiness and spoil. 
 Enough for brutes its simple face to know, 
 But godlike man must pierce and delve below. 
 Deep in its bowels seek the shiaing ore, 
 And at its touch shall Saturn reign once more. 
 For him whose thews are sound, whose vision 
 
 clear, 
 Whose purpose firm, the Golden Age is here.' 
 
 ^ ' Pronaque cum spectent animalia cetera terram, 
 Os homini sutlime dedit, ccelnmque tueri 
 JiiSBit, et erectos ad sidera tollere vnltuB.' 
 
 Ovid, Met. i. 84-6. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Never from cave or tripod, moimt or glade, 
 Issued a voice so welcomed, so obeyed. 
 From zone to zone the Golden Gospel flew, 
 And in its train mankind obedient drew. 
 See from their seats the ancient Gods dethroned. 
 Altars Tipset, and oracles disown' d. 
 The Muses, scared, conceal the smothered lyre ; 
 No longer prized, the Graces swift retire ; 
 Virtue, a butt for ribalds, seeks her shroud. 
 And even Venus veils herself in cloud. 
 Eeligion, Ethics, all men erst adored, 
 Hymned on the harp, or fought for with the sword. 
 All lofty scopes, all ends esteemed of old. 
 Dissolve like mist before the rage for gold. 
 The priest for gold makes traffic of his robe ; 
 For gold the soldier desolates the globe ; 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 The poet shapes for gold his venal lays ; 
 Through gold Vice stalks caparisoned with praise. 
 Tempted by gold, the virgin sells her charms, ' 
 Though no Immortal slips into her arms.' 
 Saddled with gold, the adventm-er can buy 
 Titles, precedence, place, and dignity. 
 High, middle, low, the young, the ripe, the old, 
 Man, woman, child, live, die, are damned for Gold. 
 
 Soon as the youthful mind begins to ope, 
 It searches Life's significance and scope ; 
 And, fed by generous impulse year by year, 
 Dreams for itself some glorious career. 
 
 ' The Immortal character of the strange visitor of Danae — 
 converso in pretium Deo, as Horace with exquisite ambiguity ex- 
 presses it — no doubt largely consoled her pagan parents. In these 
 Christian times, the consolation would arise rather from the valu- 
 able foi-m in which he cloalied his misdoing. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 13 
 
 Its shall it be, instmcted by the Muse, 
 
 Truth to abet, and beauty to diffuse ; 
 
 With full-blown sail, and genius at the helm, 
 
 To steer men's thoughts to a serener realm. 
 
 Perhaps the ingenuous boy -would fain recall 
 
 Tintoret's canvas, Memmi's fresco'd wall ; 
 
 With godlike pencil purify the mart. 
 
 And life ennoble with the breath of Art. 
 
 Maybe he burns, by Plato's failure fired, 
 
 To scale the heights which every wing have 
 
 tu-ed. 
 Seize first each part, then comprehend the 
 
 whole, 
 And solve the eternal problem of the Soul. 
 Be these his aims, or, nobler still, to train 
 His kind to mutiny till Virtue reign, 
 
14 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Soon dotli lie learn to count his lovely scliemes 
 
 A host of bubbles in a.,-world of dreams. 
 
 Experience whispers early, Have a care ! 
 
 Who with the Muse would live must live on air. 
 
 The tempting maid is but a poet's lie, 
 
 ' Who gave to song what gold could never buy.'J 
 
 Confront the world, take counsel with the throng ; 
 
 Their verdict what? 'The thing's not worth a 
 
 song.' 
 Are you content you now have learnt your price ? 
 Come, sink the Muse, and don't be quite so nice. 
 Start a new Company, and float the shares, 
 Then lunch with Ministers and dine with Mayors. 
 
 J ' Here's to her who long 
 
 Hath waked the poet's sigh, 
 The girl who gave to song 
 What gold could never buy.' 
 
 Moore. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 15 
 
 Pimp for a Party, praise a Premier's heart, 
 Head a subscription, and then shine — a Bart. 
 Return your income fifty thousand clear — 
 The devil's in it, or you'll die a peer. 
 Success so great is never done by halves — 
 'Tis only virtue, when 'tis greatest, starves. 
 
 Perhaps his breast, untutored yet to serve, 
 Spm'ns the base counsel with a proud reserve ; 
 For Youth is stubborn, and when Nature draws. 
 In vain a parent's warning, wisdom's saws. 
 Let cravens straight their impotence confess, 
 And sell their birthright for a filthy mess ; 
 In fiowers see, bee -like, nought but stuff for 
 
 hives, 
 And for foul lucre prostitiite their lives ; 
 
1 6 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 They have not failed who never once have 
 
 tried, 
 Or, If they failed, they failed for want of pride. 
 He, he at least his soul will ne'er demean. 
 But 'mong the foul will keep his honour clean. 
 
 touching sight, to witness day by day 
 His splendid generous day-dreams fade away ! 
 His sire reproaches, and his brothers scoff. 
 His mother doubts, his sisters e'en fall off. 
 The neighbours pity, strangers deem him mad ; 
 Girls, smiling, whisper. What a foolish lad ! 
 Meanwhile his compeers, started in the race, 
 Are swiftly marching on to power and place. 
 One makes a coup, and weds a wife of rank ; 
 Another 's junior partner in a bank. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 17 
 
 A third in sugar with unsoriptural hand, 
 Traifics, and builds a lasting house on sand. 
 A fourth, for beer and piety renowned. 
 Owns all the publics in the country round ;'' 
 Its drink adulterates with face demure, 
 But burns with zeal to keep opinion pure ; 
 Cares not one jot for bodies drunk or sick. 
 But scans your soul like a new Dominick. 
 The fifth, the patron of a new balloon, 
 Projects a Company to reach the moon ; 
 
 '^ What the ' final cause' of the connection may te, it is not 
 easy to say; but few things strike a T}on&-fide traveller, in the 
 home counties at least, as more remarkable, than that our most 
 severe political pietists give what may be called the saiats' names 
 to the principal public-houses and beer-shops. The fact that they 
 are likewise aU enormously rich, and nearly all of them members 
 of the House of Commons, perhaps helps to explain the phenome- 
 non somewhat. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Baits his prospectus with, a batch of peers, 
 
 And vows nought pays like money in the Spheres, 
 
 Shares in the moon advanced — advancing still. 
 
 Then comes a crash — stock guaranteed at nil. 
 
 But sure, the man is ruined % Not at all ; 
 
 He scarce can tumble who has sense to crawl. 
 
 Your modern Icarus is much too wise 
 
 On his own pinions to attempt the skies — 
 
 On others' soaring follies doth he rise. 
 
 Long ere the bubble burst his shares were sold ; 
 
 Just at that moment he had need of gold. 
 
 Singed wings, you know, are but. for simple 
 
 folk; 
 He, with his peers, 'scapes safe from flame and 
 
 smoke. 
 And buys a borough with the happy stroke. 
 
THE GOLDEN. AGE. 19 
 
 Few are the souls who die for Cato's creed ■} 
 To fail seems base, when all around succeed. 
 Foiled in hie purpose, both by foe and friend, 
 Through noble means to reach a noble end, 
 The baffled boy forswears his cherished dream. 
 And learns to swim, like others, with the stream. 
 Keen to recover precious moments lost. 
 And taught by bitter tasks what Virtue cost. 
 He midst the rush, whilst others rise and fall. 
 Swims on, the most unscrupulous of all. 
 Let others chouse with care, he cheats with pluck, 
 And millions stake their all upon his luck. 
 His daring overawes the small, the great. 
 And whilst he plunders they but peculate. 
 
 1 Victrix causa Diis placuit, sed victa Catoni, by some people 
 deemed an irreverent, not to say Wasphemons, line, is paraphrased 
 in our times with cynical hvevity — 'Nothing succeeds like suocess.' 
 
zo THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 He lures the easy, makes the fat his spoil, 
 Pares the lean wage of proletarian toil ; 
 Swindles the widow of her hoarded mite. 
 Drags the poor pensioner once more to fight ; 
 Kobs age of rest, and youth of prospects fair, 
 Plunges the sanguine bridegroom in despair ; 
 Severs the ties made sacred long by home, 
 
 And sends the son fi'om sire across the foam ; 
 
 • 
 
 Dashes the faith of plighted swain and maid. 
 And helps alone the cynic sexton's spade : 
 Does all that well beseems a Fallen Star — 
 It needs a Lucifer'to fall so far ! 
 
 Sometimes will Fortune on the traitor scowl^ 
 And e'en with gold not pay a deed so foul. 
 He who was born a glittering child of light. 
 Trenchant as Raphael, as Ithuriel bright. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Yet sells Ms soul a vulgar prize to reap, 
 
 And for brute guerdons holds his honour cheap, 
 
 Too often finds that he who, grovelling, flies 
 
 From unrewarded reverie in the skies, 
 
 And seeks in venal efforts to employ 
 
 The gifts God formed for beauty and for joy, 
 
 Makes but a barren barter of his birth. 
 
 And Heaven foregoes, without securing earth. 
 
 See how he sinks ! The more he strains to clutch 
 
 Terrestrial spoil, unworthy of his touch, 
 
 It seems, for him, to take elusive shapes, 
 
 And like a shadow from his grasp escapes. 
 
 As baser wax his aims, more mean his scope. 
 
 More and still more he sprawls — the sport of Hope. 
 
 Still as he tries to suffocate his soul, 
 
 Farther beyond him seems the carnal goal. 
 
23 THE GOLDEN AGE-. 
 
 In vain he turns to catch the favouring gale ; 
 Becalmed he lies — ^he labours but to fail. 
 Poor and despised, he now would fain retrace 
 His erring steps to his first dwelling-place, 
 But finds, alas ! baseness hath borne its fi-uit ; 
 Wings long unused have withered at the root. 
 He who in vain has crawled in vain would fly, 
 And rots abandoned both by earth and sky. 
 Meaner his end than that poor tradesman's 
 
 doom, 
 Who, asked what words of honpur on his tomb 
 His fidends should place, with cynic touch re- 
 
 pliedi 
 'Here lies who, bom a man, a grocer died!'"" 
 
 ™ The literal translation of a terse and affecting French epi- 
 taph, — ' JJ'e Jurnime — mart epicier.' 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 23 
 
 Whom doth this foe of human virtue spare? 
 Look round! More sweet its victims, the more 
 
 fair. 
 Its natural slaves, who, spawned from wealth, are 
 
 born 
 To Traffic's tricks they lack the soul to scorn, 
 Whose lust for lucre is theu- proper lot, 
 It just as oft iriipoverishes as not. 
 'Tis those in whom the Unseen God inspires 
 The restless leaven of divine desires ; 
 Who, from the moment that they lisp, betray 
 An alien spirit housed within their clay ; 
 Whose fretful youth life's narrow limits chafe. 
 And yearns for worlds more spacious, if less safe ; 
 Striving to reach, despiteits fleshly thrall. 
 That larger Something which surrounds us all ;-^ 
 
24 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 These, these the souls — and not that baser 
 
 band — 
 To whom Gold loves to stretch a helping hand ; 
 With early smiles their generous aims to bless, 
 And lead them, blind, to ruinous success. 
 When Lelius chanted first his fragrant lays. 
 Men praised, and he was amply paid with praise. 
 Not salons' sycophant, nor Fashion's bard. 
 No glittering heaps did his sweet notes reward. 
 He was content with audience fit, though few, 
 When to his side the cunning demon drew. 
 ' Your pen's worth gold ; you need but blunt its 
 
 point; 
 Come, cut the Muse ; the times are out of joint. 
 Fame's well enough, but comfort has its laws ; 
 You'll make a damned poor supper ofi" applause. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 25 
 
 Sing, be select, and starve. Prose is the thing — 
 The thing that pays. The Million now is King. 
 Write gossip, scandal, slander — ^what you will ; 
 A well-filled purse awaits a ready quill.' 
 The curst insidious demon has his way, 
 And Grub-street swallows Lelius for aye. 
 
 Turn from the pen, and for a while sm-vey 
 The wide domains which brush and canvas 
 
 sway. 
 Enter those realms, and what do we behold ? 
 Art, heavenly Art, the slave and pimp of gold."* 
 
 " There prevails an idea that an age of wealth is peculiarly 
 fayourahle to Art, and I believe that a gentleman has tvritten a 
 volume to corroborate this popular commonplace. It is, however, 
 a grievous delusion, and aiises from an inability to distinguish 
 between teohnio and plastic Art — an inability which could exist 
 only in an age, albeit so rich and addicted to furniture, withal so 
 eminently unartistic, as our own. 
 
26 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Time was when its poor votaries were too proud 
 To sate the itch of a vain-glorious crowd, 
 Serve the mean aims of narrow personal pelf. 
 And swell the ignoble retinue of Self. 
 Only the State, which merges private ends. 
 Or sacred Church, which lifts them and extends, 
 Might then presume the artist's craft to claim, 
 And paid him, happy, with immortal Fame. 
 Here, Friendship's guest, where fau-est Florence 
 
 lies," 
 A dream in stone, stretched out before mine eyes, 
 I think of all the treasures there enshrined, 
 And what small dole nurtm-ed each master mind ; 
 
 ° A recording line of gratitude to T. A. Trollope, the historian 
 of The CoTrnncmwealth of Florence and author of that charming 
 story La Beata, on the terraces of whoee exquisite villa at Eicor- 
 holi, overlooking the loveliest of all cities, a considerahle portioa 
 of The Golden Age was composed. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 27 
 
 Or led by memory o'er the classic cbain 
 
 Whicli Umbrian slope divides from Tuscan plain,? 
 
 I all the priceless unbonght gems recall 
 
 That link with heaven Assisi's fi-escoed wall ;^ 
 
 Then, borne on wings of weakness, I repair 
 
 To mine own land, and groan to think that there. 
 
 Debased by Fashion to a venal trade. 
 
 Art comits its triumphs by its fortunes made ; 
 
 1? It is, of course, only a Bpur of the Apennines, and not that 
 grand range itself, wMch breaks the continuity of Tuscany and 
 modem Umbria. 
 
 9 Certainly if one could thiiLk of giving to Heaven a local 
 habitation and a name, it would be to ' My Father's house,' con- 
 taining 'many mansions,' which rises over the bones of the unspeak- 
 ably great I^ancis of Assisi, and is so profusely illustrated by the 
 celestial touches of Giotto and Gimabue. Many readers will doubt' 
 less remember the lines of Dante : 
 
 ' . . . Chi d' esso loco fa parole, 
 Kon dica Ascesi, chg direbbe corto, 
 Ma Oriente, se proprio dii- vuole.' 
 
 Poradiso, xi. S3-55. 
 
28 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Spurned by the State, and by the Church un- 
 sought/ 
 Works but for wealth, and by the base is bought ; 
 Stranger to altars, palaces, or domes, 
 Pampers the pomp of ostentatious homes. 
 How changed the days since Duccio's hand of old 
 On Saints and Virgins lavished costly gold;^ 
 
 "■ Sir Joshua Eeynolds, in his Tour through Flanders and Hol- 
 land, ohserves that it may be -worthy of consideration, how far the 
 circumstance that Protestant countries have thought proper to 
 exclude pictures from their churches may be the cause of no Pro- 
 -testant countiy having ever produced a histoiy-painter. No doubt 
 «uch a prohibition would operate as a check upon the production 
 •of good historical pictures, it the tendency to produce them existed ; 
 but that the removal of it would not necessarily create the tend- 
 ency, may be seen from the execrable pictures which adorn Italian 
 •churches built or renovated last century, and from the present 
 deplorable condition of Italian art. 
 
 ' In the chapel called of the Holy Sacrament in the Cathedral 
 of Siena, there is a work of this artist's in twenty-seven compart- 
 ments, which, owing to the amount of gold and ultramarine ex- 
 pended on it, cost 3000 golden florins; whilst Duccio's personal 
 wage was about twenty pounds English. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 29 
 
 But for himself asked but a few poor crowns, 
 Less than we give to harlequins and oloAvns. 
 Now do our mercenary tricksters grudge 
 Almost the very canvas that they smudge ; 
 Yet scan with gi-eedy eyes the glittering heap 
 That opulent folly holds, for once, so cheap. 
 See, too, how Grenius, when its touch was true, 
 On humble walls its lasting fancies drew;* 
 Wliose modern apes, ridiculously bold. 
 Hang their ephemeral daubs in frames of gold." 
 
 ' Many serious writers on Art trace its declension to the aban- 
 donment of this practice ; in other words, to the introduction of 
 easel pictures. I have always imagined this to he a sound view. 
 The suhject, however, has never heen snfSciently ventilated. 
 
 " We have lately seen the walls of Burlington House stripped 
 of its Titians, its Eubenses, and its Eeynoldses, to make room for 
 the works of our ' Academicians.' It has been said that waUs have 
 ears. They certainly can have no stomachs, or they would surely 
 rise in insurrection against the change, in a manner calculated to 
 interfere seriously with the circulation of Piccadilly. 
 
30 THE GOLDEN AGE, 
 
 In vain doth Heaven, while Gold thus rules 
 
 the earth, 
 With generous instincts sow the soul at birth. 
 Swift in the genial soil the seed takes root, 
 Then seeks the sun with many a venturous shoot. 
 But, ah, how soon the cruel outer air 
 Checks the brave growth and nips its promise 
 
 fair ! ' 
 Warmed by the glow of Tasso's splendid lay, 
 Or borne by Dante to the gates of Day; 
 Softly seduced by Scott's romantic strain 
 To deem all ends, excepting honour, vain; 
 Or nobly trained by Shelley's burning song 
 To cherish an eternal feud with wrong, — 
 The simple girl constructs a fature fair. 
 Rears a whole world of castles in the air, 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 And nowhere warned, or deaf to warning, deems 
 That life will clothe and justify her dreams. 
 As year by year the maiden grows apace, 
 And half the woman mantles in her face, 
 With sickening sense, sad eye, and sinking 
 
 heart. 
 She sees her forecasts one by one depart. 
 Slowly, but, ah, too surely doth she find 
 That poets' tales- no longer rule mankind ; 
 That Peace is homeless as the hunted hare, 
 And Love far less a shelter than a snare ; 
 That godlike Valour meets a demon's doom. 
 Whilst Prudence prospers even from the tomb ; 
 That Youth, save schooled in Mammon's miry 
 
 ways. 
 Groans o'er the lapse of unrequited days ; 
 
32 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 That Beauty, Genius, all are vain and cold. 
 Till foully touched and fertilised by Gold. 
 
 Soon as the time so dear to mother's vows 
 Draws nigh, to find the maid some fitting spouse. 
 Then most of all she leams what leading part 
 Is played by Gold in dramas of the heart. 
 Chance to young Hylas, beautiful as Dawn,^ 
 And sweet as fan-, she feels her fancy drawn. 
 Are you a nymph? one whispers. Let him pass. 
 He doth but gather daisies in the grass. 
 
 "• The love of Hercules for Hylas, who accompanied Mm on 
 Ms Argonautic expedition, the submergence of the youth by the 
 Naiads on the coast of Mysia, and the story of the golden apples 
 guarded by the Hesperides, -which, among Tarious other purposes, 
 seiTed as a wedding present to Hera when her nuptials were cele- 
 brated with Zeus, — are they not all written too fully in Lemprigre, 
 for one to fear that the ensuing passage will be obscure even to 
 the least erudite of readers ? 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 33 
 
 Where your cool wave, hidden from human eyes, 
 
 In which to lure and love him till he dies % 
 
 Bid him rejoin his Hercules, and seize 
 
 The golden apples of the Hesperides ; 
 
 And then perchance, should none more rich than 
 
 he 
 Engage your love, you may his Hera be. 
 Alas, poor Hylas ! worse than Mysian fate 
 Doth his meandering flowery feet await. 
 If that a Solon, versed in every arf*^ 
 Of song and science, touch the maiden's heart. 
 The neighbours softly whisper, Have a care ; 
 Can Erudition keep a chaise and pair ? 
 
 ^ It may not te amiss to remind English readers, eTer dis- 
 posed to suspect that the faculty of imagination is incompatible 
 ■with practical ahilities, that the great Athenian legislator first dis- 
 tinguished himself as a poet. 
 
34 THE GOLDEN AGE> 
 
 Pundits, alas, like fools, must pay their bills. 
 
 And Knowledge figures sorrily in wills. 
 
 For single life learning is well enough, 
 
 But marriage should be made of sterner stuff. 
 
 Should Cato's fame her pious soul attract, 
 
 The whole world cries, The woman must be 
 
 cracked. 
 What ! wed with Virtue ! Is the girl awake % 
 Sm-e, she confounds the altar with the stake. 
 Send for the doctor. Try a change of air. 
 Swear Cato drinks. In war and love all's fair. 
 Bring Croesus to the front. At four he's free — 
 There's no one left to swindle after three. 
 In one brief hour behold him curled and 
 
 drest. 
 And borne on wings of fashion to the West ! 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 35 
 
 What though to regions fondly deemed refined. 
 He brings his City manners, City mind. 
 And cynics titter?— he laughs best who wins, — • 
 A Greenwich dinner covers many sins. 
 What ! dine with Croesus ? Surely. . Is a feast 
 One jot the worse' because the host's a beast % 
 He's worse than that — a snob — a cad. Agreed ; 
 But then his goblets smack of Ganymede ? 
 Do some strange freaks his conversation mar ? 
 He stops your censure with a prime cigar. 
 A Norway stream, a shooting-lodge in Perth, 
 In practice look uncommonly like worth. 
 The, Town to hear some new soprano flocks. 
 You long to go % Well, Croesus has a box. 
 How at this hour are tickets to be got 
 For the Eegatta ? Croesus has a yacht. 
 
36 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Goodwood is here. Your hopes begin to flag. 
 One chance awaits you : Croesus has a drag. 
 You doat on Flower-shows : Croesus has a bone.'' 
 Be friends with Croesus, and the World's your 
 
 own. 
 Who could resist seductions such as these % 
 Or what could charm, if Croesus failed to please ? 
 Blinded and bribed, the critical are cured. 
 And loud extol whom late they scarce endured. 
 Caressed and courted, Croesus grows the rage, 
 The type and glory of oui- Golden Age ; 
 And Cato, Hylas, Solon, shoved aside. 
 Our heavenly maid is hailed as Croesus' bride. 
 
 ■' Foreigners, and perhaps even some provincials, may require 
 to te told that a ' bone' is the name given to the ivory ticket of 
 a fellow of the Botanical Society, which represents the power of 
 distributing admissions to its flower-shows. 
 
■ THE. GOLDEN AGE. 37 
 
 Shade of Lucretius ! if thy lyre waxed wild 
 With sacred rage for Clytenmestra's child, 
 And nought could hold thee as thy soul sur- 
 veyed 
 The cursed ills Religion can persuade, 
 How would thy verse impetuously shower 
 Sonorous scorn on Gold's atrocious power ; 
 Embalm its victims with a touch divine. 
 And damn the monster in one sounding line ! y 
 
 y Who is not acquainted with the magnificent passage in the 
 immortal poem o£ Lucretius, which closes with these scathing 
 lines? — 
 
 ' Nam suhlata viriim manihus tremebundaque ad aras 
 Deduota est, non ut, solenni more sacrorum 
 • Perfecto, posset olaro comitari Hymenaso, 
 Sed casta inceste nnbendi tempore in ipso, 
 Hostia concideret maotatu msesta parentis, 
 Exitus ut classi felix faustusque daretm\ 
 Tantum Eeligio potuit suadere malorum. 
 
 He Rerum Natura, i. 96-102. 
 I have ventured to translate this last line almost literally in the 
 context. 
 
38 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Can honeyed forms or stereotyped applause 
 Alter the scope of Heaven's eternal laws ? 
 What though with gifts should massive side- 
 boards groan, 
 And every heart be glad except her own, 
 And troops of blooming girls behold with pride, 
 Perchance with envy, this resplendent bride ; 
 Though vieing voices hail her Fashion's queen. 
 And even a Bishop's blessing crown the scene, 
 No rites, no rings, no altars, can avail 
 To make a sacred contract of a sale, 
 Stir the far depths of the reluctant mind. 
 Or join the hearts which love hath failed ta 
 
 bind. 
 If soul stands passive whilst the flesh is sold, 
 Is there no foul aroma in the gold ? 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 39 
 
 Is tlie base barter covered by the price, 
 And do huge figures make the nasty nice % 
 The nameless outcast, prowling for her prey, 
 Renews her filthy bargain day by day; 
 Let Croesus give her what he gave his wife. 
 She's virtuous too — at least, she's his for life. 
 Croesus — but hold ! Let Charity presume 
 That Croesus' wife but dimly knew her doom. 
 
 The luckless maid, since knowledge comes too 
 late. 
 In splendom- seeks oblivion of her fate ; 
 Of eveiy tender pious aim bereft, 
 Hugs in despair the only idol left ; 
 In alien worship seeks to be consoled, 
 And builds her hopes of happiness on Gold. 
 
40 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Gold rules her steps, determines her desires — 
 Mere puppet she, whilst Mammon jerks the 
 
 wires. 
 Futile to ask if London suits her health — 
 Would you consult her doctor, not her wealth ? 
 You soon are answered : Whether ill or well, 
 A house in ToAvn is indispensable. 
 Where shall it be ? On gi-avel or on clay % 
 Wherever tenants have the most to pay. 
 Price is the thing, not soil. If Fashion's camp 
 Be pitched just here, what matter dry or damp ? 
 But, health apart, 'tis known that Croesus' wife. 
 If left to choose,, prefers a country life. 
 Well, she shall have it when the Parks are 
 
 brown, 
 And Fashion, wearied, hath dispersed the Town. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 41 
 
 But whilst the woods are leafy, and the lanes ^ 
 With lush wildrflowers rob life of half its pains ; 
 While sweetest scents and softest sounds combine 
 To make existence, did they last, divine ; 
 Not for the world must Croesus' wife be missed 
 From fetid streets, foul rooms, and Fashion's list ; 
 And only thence to rural refuge flies 
 As, self-exhausted, pleasant Summer dies. 
 
 Say, shall we marvel, amid scenes like these. 
 With all to dazzle, but with nought to please, 
 
 ^ I know of no argument against tjtie dootrme of free ■will — 
 not even the existence of such places as the Seven Dials — more 
 troublesome and difficult to contend against, than the fact that 
 thousands of men and women annually leave the countiy when it 
 is become most lovely, for London when it is becoming most dis- 
 agreeable. In many instances a perfectly charming rural home is 
 abandoned for stuffy lodgings in the parasitical street of a fashion- 
 able square. Can free will possibly dictate so perverse and sur- 
 prising a course ? 
 
42 THE GOLDEN AGE, 
 
 If links of simple gold should fail to cleave, 
 And tempters prompt their webs not vainly 
 
 weave ? 
 See, Plutus, first in each ignoble strife. 
 Battered and bored, bethinks him of a wife. 
 The happy tidings, spreading through the West, 
 Fires each maternal mercenary breast. 
 The soaring dames parade their daughters' 
 
 charms, 
 To lure the hug of Plutus' palsied arms ; 
 And as brave Eld for one fair woman fought, 
 For one foul man our world to rage is wrought. 
 At last, opining he might chance do worse, 
 Plutus to proud Olympia flings his ptirse. 
 Olympia Hfts it with triumphant smile, 
 Whilst round her crowds congi-atulating guile. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 43 
 
 Escorts her to the altar, decks her brows 
 
 With orange-buds, then leaves her with her spouse. 
 
 Who, though his suit by golden showers throve,. 
 
 Can grasp his Danae with no thews of Jove. 
 
 0, who shall tell Olympia's tale aright, 
 
 Each splendid day, each miserable night ; 
 
 Her thu'st divine by human draughts but slaked. 
 
 Her smiling face whilst the heart sorely ached. 
 
 Or note the edge whence one we loved so well 
 
 To sweet, seductive, base perdition fell % 
 
 I cast no stone, but half by rage consoled, 
 
 I snatch the lyre and curse this fiendish Gold. 
 
 Though Beauty's fame oft spreads through all 
 the land, 
 Splendour is far more curiously scanned ; 
 
44 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 And they who once upon Olympia thi"ew 
 A passing glance, since she was fair to view, 
 Now gUded pomp and Ostentation's choir 
 Attend her path, of gazing never tu-e ; 
 Suck up her speech, translate her silent eyes, 
 Each movement, look, and postui-e scrutinise. 
 Stalk all her steps, as matron, friend, and wife, 
 And feed in greedy gossip on her Ufe. 
 Not mine to follow to the noisome den 
 Where woman's fi-ailty stands the gaze of men, 
 And well-coached menials, limed vrith gold, detail 
 The piteous scenes that pass behind the veil. 
 Enough to know that, thanks to wealth, once more 
 Plutus can woo, e'en richer than before. 
 The tottering cuckold leaves the court consoled ; 
 •Considerate juries tip his horns with Gold ! 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 45 
 
 Sure some malicious demon in the brain 
 It needs must be, drives men reputed sane 
 To spurn the joys adjacent to their feet, 
 In the fond chase of this receding cheat % 
 Say, -when the Stoic on his tranquil height, 
 And swinish crowd, sweating in miry fight,* 
 In every age a like conclusion reach, 
 And sage and simple one same sermon preach — 
 That whether Heaven hath made one serf or 
 
 king. 
 Reason alone true happiness can bring — 
 Can we but stand astounded as we scan 
 This race untaught, unteachable, called Man ? 
 
 " There is an absolute concurrence of registered phUosophie 
 opinion on this point, from Epictetua to Goethe ; and the common- 
 places of the crowd, always so much wiser in speech than in act, 
 uniTersally assert the same conclusion. And yet — 
 
46 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Would you be truly rich, how small the heap 
 Your aims require, the price how passing cheap ! 
 A modest house, from urban Jars removed, 
 By thrift selected, yet by taste approved ; 
 Whose walls are gay with every sweet that blows. 
 Whose windows scented by the blushing rose ; 
 Whose chambers few to no fine airs pretend, 
 Yet never are too full to gi-eet a friend ; 
 A garden plot, whither unbidden come 
 Bird's idle pipe and bee's laborious hum ; 
 Smooth-shaven lawn, whereon in pastime's hours 
 The mallet rings within a belt of flowers ; 
 A leafy nook where to enjoy at will 
 Oibbon's rich prose or Shakespeare's wizard quill ; 
 A neighbouring copse wherein the stock-doves coo, 
 And a wild stream unchecked sings all day through; 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 47 
 
 Two clean bright stalls, where midday, night, ani 
 
 morn. 
 Two good stout roadsters champ their well-eai-ned 
 
 corn ; 
 A few learned shelves from modern rubbish free. 
 Yet always, Mill,*^ with just a place for Thee ; 
 Head ne'er at dawn by clownish bouts obscured, 
 And limbs by temperate exercise inm-ed ; 
 A few firm friendships made in early life, 
 Yet doubly fastened by a pleasant wife ; 
 
 i" Into putlio life, -whither Mr. John Stuart Mill has reluctantly 
 allowed himself to he heguiled by interested prompters, that dis- 
 "tinguished writer seems to carry only one-half of his opinions. It 
 is to be hoped that he will retreat from it altogether, and — to 
 alter a weU-known couplet bo as to suit the times, but whilst 
 destroying its rhyme to preserve its reason — 
 
 ' leave aU meaner things 
 To low ambition and the pride of crowds' 
 
 In any case, his written works wiU be an everlasting possession to 
 mankind. 
 
48 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 A ■wholesome board, a draught of honest wine ; — 
 This is true wealth; and this, thank Heaven, is; 
 
 mine! 
 And though you ransacked worlds from shore to- 
 
 shore. 
 From sea to sky, you could not give me more. 
 And if, all these beyond, I still should crave 
 Something impossible this side the grave. 
 Let humbler souls my soaring hopes forgive — 
 After my life still in my verse to live. 
 
 Well would it be if Mammon's feverish 
 rage 
 Did but the vulgar and the base engage ; 
 If those alone whose undistinguished name. 
 Haply if fouled, would shed no slur on Fame, 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 49 
 
 Sought in this sordid, despicable strife, 
 To find the good and snatch the crown of life. 
 But in the mire of venal fight embroiled. 
 Have we not seen the noblest scutcheons 
 
 soiled?" 
 Not the proud thought that many a splendid 
 
 fray. 
 When crowns obeyed the fortunes of the day, 
 To stalwart arms its pregnant issue owed, 
 Whose glorious blood in their own body flowed ; 
 Not the remembrance that then- sires did share 
 The toils that made this England great and fair ; 
 
 ° Scarcely a week now passes but some ' noble' name or other 
 figures in the Bankruptcy Court. Would not the House of Lords 
 do well to petition the Crown, in all such instances, to hold a title 
 thus disgraced in abeyance, tiU such time as some future heir 
 cleansed it from the blot ? The step would be eminently conserva- 
 tive, both in its character and consequences. 
 
50 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Not their resplendent pedigree, nor all 
 
 The line of haught fierce faces on the wall, 
 
 That tells the tale of their ancestral hall. 
 
 Have yet availed, in days like these, to hold 
 
 Men, thus seduced, from the coarse race for Gold. 
 
 Have we not seen the generous beast, whose sires 
 
 Once bore theii- fathers into battle's fires. 
 
 By titled gamblers' mercenary taste 
 
 His once stout loins to nimble flanks debased. 
 
 Made for curst gold to sweat through all his pores, 
 
 The panting pet of blacklegs, lords, and whores ? '^ 
 
 On such a course what dismal woes await. 
 Let the world learn by young Lucullus' fate. 
 
 '' The collocation of words in this line is painful, and to no one 
 more so than to the writer of it ; and he will promise to expunge it 
 as soon as, what are euphemistically called our ' Tat. liTni g.Ti Games' 
 being reformed, it no longer represents a fact. 
 
THE . GOLDEN AGE. S i 
 
 Whilst yet the bloom of boyhood matched his 
 
 cheek, 
 And all his duty was to master Greefe,* 
 Make a long score, bound o'er the running brook. 
 Cleave the clear wave, LucuUus had^ a book. 
 No glorious volume was't, whose subtle page 
 The wisdom breathed of many a studious age. 
 No wealth of wit, no Learning's garnered sheaves 
 Lay, like a treasure, lurking in its leaves. 
 But, in their place, crabbed Calculation scrawled 
 Symbols which shocked and figures that appalled. 
 Not for sweet Fancy, nor the simple stake 
 Of generous sports, did he his tasks forsake. 
 
 « Many men, recalling their schooldays, will doubt whether 
 it was ever seriously put before them, that it was their duty to 
 ' master Greek ;' but I speak of our theory of a gentleman's edu- 
 cation, rather than of our practice. 
 
5? THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Ere sentiment could move, or sense control, 
 Adventurous Greed had swallo-wed up his soul. 
 If Gold Acrisius' Tower of Brass could flout,^ 
 How will the playground shut the monster 
 
 out? 
 Thus by his own base instincts first betrayed, 
 The race of harpies lend their shameful aid, 
 With evil eye his smiling lands behold. 
 And smooth his path to infamy with gold. 
 
 At length behold him grown to man's estate,. 
 Rich, noble, noted, lord of his own fate. 
 Here Duty beckons, Honour there incites. 
 And Love entices to its saving rites. 
 
 *' The story of King Acrisius and his daughter, referred to- 
 more than once in these pages, has heen delightfully told ia English 
 Terse by Mr. Morris. Tide TTit Earthly Paradise, toI. i. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. ,53 
 
 He heeds them not ; he joins the madding crowd, 
 King of the base, the vulgar, and the loud; s 
 Builds his most precious friendships on a bet. 
 And through the gutter trails his coronet. 
 Vain fool ! inflamed by flattery and conceit, 
 He marks no pitfalls yawning at his feet ; 
 But, winning, deems the cunning snare his luck, 
 And losing, pays, to plume him on his pluck ; 
 Accepts each challenge, doubles every stake. 
 While tipsy plaudits follow in his wake. 
 But what avails, if Fortune quits his side f 
 €urse on the jade, he cries, she always lied ! 
 
 e I am aware that I have not sufficient authority to give clas- 
 sical currency to the popular signification here attached to the 
 word ' loud;' and therefore, if it be considered that I have ventured 
 too far in introducing it into the dignified heroic measure, I plead 
 guilty heforehand. 
 
54 THE GOLDEN AGE, 
 
 Well, how's an end ! . . . A comrade plucks his 
 
 gown: 
 An end as yet, man ! cut the timber down. 
 The luck will turn ; you lost for want of skill ; 
 Come, play again — ^you'll win. . . . By G — , I will I 
 Done soon as said. The swift sure axe resounds 
 Through the green stretch of his ancestral grounds^ 
 The soaring elm, whose topmost boughs defied 
 The scaling Yalour of his boyish pride; 
 The umbrageous beech, beneath whose courtly 
 
 shade 
 The loves that issued in his life were made ; 
 The lordly oak, young when his line was young, 
 To which with pride inherited had clung 
 His sires and they from whom his sires were 
 
 sprung ; 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 55 
 
 Behold them now, around the naked hall. 
 
 One aftei- one in fell succession falL 
 
 Lo, the "wide woods which centuries had seen 
 
 By frosts unmoved, mid thunder-fagues serene, 
 
 By thousand suns, by tens of thousand showers, 
 
 Fostered and fed, one greedy day devoui-s. 
 
 And all in vain ! Lured by the severed spoil. 
 
 The foul fierce harpies fasten on the soil. 
 
 ' My lands on luck.' We take you. Clear the course ; 
 
 Twenty to one upon Lucullus' horse ! 
 
 One minute more, and poor Lucullus flies, 
 
 The beggared heir of all the centuries. 
 
 Then scoffed, and scourged, and stripped of all 
 his wealth, 
 His last friends leave him — energy and health. 
 
56 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Anxiety and fierce Excitement's flame 
 
 Have scorched his blood and shrivelled up his 
 
 frame. 
 ' Plum to a pony !' hear the cripple call ; 
 ' Ere six months pass, the grave will end it all.' 
 Lucky at last, he wins his bootless bet. 
 And dies of drink, debauchery, and debt. 
 
 Gone are the times indeed when savage Might 
 Usurped the throne and claimed the wage of Right. 
 No longer now the tiller of the soil 
 Sees his fair fields the lusty robber's spoil ; 
 No timid burgher now grows rich by stealth. 
 Lest some rude noble swoop upon his wealth ; 
 The quiet citizen no longer fears 
 A raid upon his money or his ears. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 57 
 
 That local turmoil or imperial strife 
 
 Will wreck his home or leave him bare for life. 
 
 But say, is Force the only fearful foe, 
 
 Or the keen Sword worst source of human 
 
 woe? 
 Wielding base weapons Violence disdained, 
 Cunning prevails where once Compulsion reigned. 
 The tyrant's lance, Oppression's piercing shaft. 
 Torment no more, but abdicate to Craft. 
 Could feudal despot swoopiag on his prey, 
 Could bandit burning for the unequal fray. 
 Could fire, sword, famine, spread more wreck 
 
 abroad, 
 Than marks the path of Creed allied with Fraud ; 
 Or waits on life, where no rude signs portend 
 When the dread bolt of Ruin will descend? 
 
S8 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 See the poof father, who for years has toiled, 
 At one fell stroke of aU his store despoiled. 
 His was the pious wish, by daily care 
 And safe degrees to make his hearth more fair ; 
 His the ambition — far too meek to roam — 
 To swell the simple luxuries of home ; 
 By loving thrift to deck his comely spouse 
 With some poor gem, the summit of her vows ; 
 To instruct his boys in every generous art 
 Which trains the man to act a shining part ■}^ 
 By culture's aid to see his daughters armed 
 With each fair grace that in their mother charmed; 
 
 ■^ It is a common opinion nowadays that the generous arts do 
 not enable a man to shine, hut rather the reverse, and that special 
 not general education is the proper method of developing that 
 Tvhich is in him. The ' poor father' in question must therefore he 
 looked upon as an old fogey, who knew no hetter. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. , 59- 
 
 Year after year, as strength and vigour waned, 
 To find his fondest forecasts all attained ; 
 And then, since faithful to the final stage, 
 Dofi" the hard harness from the back of age. 
 But watchful Greed with jealous eye beheld 
 Day after day his little earnings swelled ; 
 Studied the tender workings of his mind, 
 Marked the fond aims to which his heart inclined? 
 With specious lips his trusting senses stole, 
 And with false visions fired his prudent soul. 
 Poor wretch ! but yesterday in modest state 
 He lived, secure from every bolt of Fate. 
 To-day, he wanders feverish and depressed, 
 As though whole Andes weighed upon his breast. 
 To-morrow, back unto his home he crawls, 
 A beggared man, and at the threshold falls. 
 
6o THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Now will no more his trustfiil wife behold 
 
 The gladsome face returning as of old, 
 
 And read in sparkling eye and smiling cheek 
 
 The day's good tidings e'en before he speak ; 
 
 Never agaia in hastening footsteps guess 
 
 Some pretty love-gift, token of success. 
 
 Their blooming boys, for whom parental hope 
 
 So oft had cast the fairest horoscope, 
 
 And seen with fond anticipating eyes 
 
 Each proud successive civic honour rise. 
 
 Torn from their noble studies, have to crave 
 
 From base pursuits the pittance of a slave. 
 
 Pour the soul's wine into the body's sieve. 
 
 And grand life lose in mean attempts to live.^ 
 
 * Many will here recognise au inadequate attempt to present, 
 in an English dress, their old friend, 
 
 ' E J propter vitam vivendi perdere causas.^ 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 6i 
 
 Percliance, at home their humble wants denied, 
 Gaunt Hunger drives them from their mother's 
 
 side; 
 Leaves her to weep alone o'er what hath been, 
 And places ocean, pitiless, between. 
 The tender girls, their father's pride and joy. 
 Whose dreams a fiend had scrupled to destroy ; 
 From childhood's earliest days whose only care 
 Was to be gracious, virtuous, and fair. 
 And who fr-om Heaven could nothing else im- 
 plore 
 Save to be all their mother was before ; 
 'V\Tio pictured as their perfect scheme of life 
 A clinging daughter and a helpful wife, — 
 At one rude flash behold the world enlarge. 
 And stand, pale victims, trembling on the marge. 
 
62 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Little, alas, now boots it where they roam, 
 .Since they must leave the tranquil shores of 
 
 home. 
 Whether, poor slaves, they crawl with aching feet 
 Hour after hour from dreary street to street^ 
 Or, as ia mockery of home, alas ! 
 Beneath the stranger's icy portal pass. 
 And thankless task and miserable wage 
 Their exiled cheerless energies engage, 
 "Their youth, their life, is blasted at the core, 
 And Hope's sweet sap will mount their veins no 
 
 more. 
 Should every door their humble prayers repel. 
 Scorning to buy what Himger kneels to sell, 
 And they, half thankful that the strangers spurn. 
 To their own roof be driven to retiu-n. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 63 
 
 How strange the scene that meets their wearied 
 
 gaze! 
 How changed the hearth, the home, of other days! 
 Contracting Care usurps the mother's face. 
 Whose smiles of old spread sunshine through the 
 
 place. 
 Alone she weeps ; but should she chance to hear 
 Her husband's steps, she hides the furtive tear ; 
 Follows his movements with an anxious dread, 
 Studies his brow, and scans his restless tread ; 
 Assails his woe with every female wile, 
 Prattles of hope, and simulates a smile. 
 He, broken man, wrapt in perpetual gloom. 
 Wanders anon from vacant room to room ; 
 Then, creeping bact, the image of despaii-. 
 With a deep sigh he sinks into his chair. 
 
64 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 He seldom speaks ; and when his voice is heard. 
 Peevish its tone, and quernlons his word ; 
 And vain laments and childish tears attest 
 The lamp of life is dying in his breast. 
 Perhaps his death some timely pittance frees, 
 Secured by prudence in their days of ease ; 
 And, the pity ! posthumous relief 
 Stanches love's wounds, and blunts the edge of 
 
 grief. 
 Unless, indeed — ^for this too hath been known — 
 All-grasping Greed hath made that mite its own,. 
 Filched from the widow her last hopes of bread. 
 And whom it ruined living, plunders dead !J 
 
 J Life Insui'anoes have long been deemed to constitute an un- 
 ening protection against the material misery frequently threatened 
 by the demise of the family bread-winner ; but recent exposure& 
 have shown that they too often only add one more terror to Death, 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 65 
 
 These are thy triumphs, Gold ! thy trophies 
 these, 
 To nurture fraud, and rob the world of ease, 
 Faith to befool, young genius to seduce, 
 And blight at once its beauty and its use. 
 Thine is the bait, as loveless hearths avouch. 
 Which drags fresh victims to the venal couch ; 
 Thine the foul traps ■wherewith our ways are 
 
 rife. 
 That lure them first, then close upon their Hfe ; 
 Thine, thine the springes, set in regions fair, 
 Whose unseen nooses strangle whom they snare ; 
 The cynic glory thine to lie in wait 
 To make men little who had else been great. 
 Frustrate our plenty, aggravate our dearth, 
 And keep eternal feud 'twixt Heaven and Earth I 
 
66 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Lo, where huge London, huger day by 
 day, 
 O'er six fair counties spreads its hideous sway, 
 A tract there lies by Fortune's favours blest, 
 And at Fame's font yclept the happy West. 
 There, as by wizard touch, for miles on miles, 
 Rise squares, streets, crescents of palatial piles. 
 In the brave days when England's trusty voice 
 Made grappling rivals tremble or rejoice ; 
 When, foremost shield of Weakness or of Eight, 
 She scorned to warn tmless resolved to smite ; 
 When, few but firm, her stalwart children bore 
 The terror of her Flag fi-om shore to shore, 
 Purged Christ's dear tomb from sacrilege and 
 
 shame, 
 And made the Moslem quake at Richard's name ; 
 
THE G.OLDEN. AGE. 67 
 
 Taught the yain Gaul, though gallant, still to 
 
 kneel, 
 And Spain's proud sons the weight of northern; 
 
 steel ; — 
 Then were her best in no such splendour nursed 
 As now awaits her basest and her worst. 
 No kingly Harry glittering with renown, 
 No Edward radiant in a peaceful crown,^ 
 Was housed as now, at turn of Fortune's wrist, 
 Some lucky navvy turned capitalist, 
 Some convict's bastard who a-sudden shines 
 In the bright splendom- of Australian mines, 
 
 ^ Edward I. was, it is true, anything but a ' peaceful' monarch, 
 in the modern acceptation of the term, for he was nearly always 
 fighting ; hut he distiaguished himself from the other martial 
 members of his line by the reformation of domestic abuses, and by 
 improvements of the law, which have won for him the appellation 
 of the English Justinian. 
 
68 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Or subtle Greek, who, skilled in Eastern ways, 
 Exposes all Golconda to om- gaze. 
 These, as to Pomp's pretentious peaks they rush,. 
 Heed not the crowds their sordid conquests' 
 
 crush: 
 Secure in glaring opulence, they scan 
 With placid eyes the miseries of man ; 
 Fat units, watch the leanness of the whole, 
 And gag remonstrance with a paltry dole : 
 Mid harrowing want, with conscience unafraid,^ 
 Die on the golden dh-t-heaps they have made. 
 Here Plenty gorges gifts from every zone. 
 There thankful Hunger gnaws its meagre bone j 
 Profasion here melts more than pearls in wine, 
 There craves gaunt Penury some shucks from 
 
 swine; 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 69 
 
 And whilst rich rogues quaff deep round roaring 
 
 fires, 
 At Dives' portal Lazarus expires ! 
 
 Betwixt these fierce extremes of wealth and 
 woe, 
 A crowd of stragglers hustles to and fro, 
 Whose one sole aim and only hope in life 
 Ai-e just to wrench subsistence from the strife. 
 To what base shifts these hideous straits compel 
 The straiaing wretches, let our records tell. 
 Victims of greedy Competition's craft, 
 We drain cheap poison in each sparkling draught,^ 
 
 ' It is not everybody who is shocked hy this condition of affairs. 
 A late Cabinet Minister, himself a celebrated reformer, has justi- 
 fied it on the ground that it is, at worst, one of the incidental evils 
 oi generous competition. 
 
70 THE 'GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Purchase a lie in every vaunted ware, 
 
 And swallow filth in the most fingal fare. 
 
 Building a refuge for om- age, we find 
 
 The crumbling mortar lets in wet and wind ; 
 
 Face the rude waves, by science freed from awe, 
 
 To sink, poor dupes, on life-belts made of straw!"* 
 
 Nor this the worst ! When ripened Shame 
 
 would hide 
 Fruits of that hour when Passion conquered 
 
 Pride, 
 There are not wanting in this Christian land 
 The breast remorseless and the Thuggish hand. 
 
 " About two years ago it was diBoovered that life-belts safe to' 
 drown yon were one of the current manufactm-es of this country .^ 
 Their composition was that stated above. 
 
THE GOLDEN A GE. 7 1 
 
 To advertise the dens -where Death is sold, 
 And quench the breath of baby-life for gold ! " 
 
 Nor man alone, case-hardened man, srav 
 veys 
 These shocking contrasts with a, careless gaze. 
 Fair melting woman of the tender breast 
 Here finds no room for pity as her guest. 
 Unsexed, she strains to Ostentation's goal. 
 While Splendour's dreams demoralise her soul ; 
 Drains, like a goddess, hecatombs of lives. 
 Nor heeds who lags, provided she arrives. 
 See Claribel, by every gift designed 
 Mid anguish keen to be an angel kind, 
 
 " This, too, has been proved to have been an extensive because 
 profitable trade, encouraged by our Golden Ag^. 
 
72 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Once plunged in rival factions' golden fight, 
 Turned to a demon in her own despite. 
 Behold, to-morrow in the Royal smile 
 Will bask the birth and wealth of all the Isle, 
 She, long abroad, received the summons late. 
 "What's to be done % Nor time nor tide will wait. 
 She turns her wardrobe over, racks her brain ; 
 Nothing will do. She wants a dress and train. 
 Drive to the modiste's. Not a finger firee. 
 There's only Clara. Clara let it be. 
 But Clara's sick and sorry. Give her gold; 
 Her aches will cease, her sorrows be consoled. 
 It must be done. Sure Lilian there will glow 
 In gorgeous newness decked from top to toe; 
 Shall it be said that Claribel did less % 
 To-morrow, then, ia time the train and dress. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 73 
 
 So Clara drags her weary limbs from bed, 
 O'er the brave finery hangs her throbbing head ; 
 Still as her senses swim sews on and on, 
 Till day dies out and twilight pale is gone. 
 Then, by the taper's soft and silent light, 
 Like a pale flower that opens most by night, 
 Her pace she quickens, and the needle moves 
 Subtler and swifter through the gauzy grooves ; 
 But as the dawn on guttering sockets gains. 
 Her tired lids drop, and sleep arrests her pains. 
 But sleep how short! She feels her shoulder 
 
 clutched : 
 ' Clara, awake ! the train's not even touched ! 
 Day strides apace. See, there's the morning 
 
 sim, 
 And ere again he sinks, 't must all be done.' 
 
74 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Again, again, tlie shooting thread she plies, 
 
 In silent agony of smothered sighs. 
 
 She seems to breathe her breath into the 
 
 gown, 
 To give it life the while she lays ,hers down. 
 Fast as the task advances set by pride, 
 So fast within her ebbs the vital tide. 
 The daylight goes, and softly comes the 
 
 moon's, 
 And then poor Clara over the last stitch swoons. 
 
 Meanwhile, the panting Claribel awaits 
 The precious gown withia her golden gates. 
 It comes — ^it comes. Now who shall shine her 
 
 down? 
 Not Lilian, surely ? No, not the entii-e Towi;. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE:. 75, 
 
 She not for worlds had lost this courtly chance ; 
 And Clara dies that Claribel may dance !° 
 
 If private worth, thus languishing, expire^, 
 Will public Virtue keep alive her fires ? 
 The slaves of wealth, in Britain as in Rome, 
 Bring to the Forum vices formed at home. 
 First the community, and then the State, 
 Falls to their fangs, which naught can satiate. 
 Not bom nor bred to rule, of culture void. 
 And by no wave of young ambition buoyed, 
 Anxious on heights conspicuous to flaunt 
 Nought but the tawdry trophies they can vaunt, 
 
 ° The Legislature has lately done much to put a stop to this 
 particular kind of vicarious sacrifice; but every year, as the season 
 comes round, the summonses of the West-end police-courts testify 
 to the profound significance of the old exclamation, Quid leges sine 
 moribus ? 
 
76 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 They woo the grasping crowd with golden guile, 
 And spread Corruption's canker through the Isle, 
 You want a seat % Then boldly sate your itch. 
 Be very radical, and very rich.? 
 Sell your opinions first to please the pure, 
 Then buy the sordid, and your triumph's sure. 
 Do all, ia brief, that honest men abhor, 
 And England hails another Senator. 
 
 See the vain Tribune who, in lust of power. 
 Bows to the base exactions of the hour, 
 
 P Of the candidate who is both very Badical and very rich, it 
 may be said Omne tulit punctum ; but it you are only rather Con- 
 servative, and, as young ladies say, very, very rich, the same result 
 may be attained. It is obvious, however, that the latter combina- 
 tion cannot be expected to occur quite go often as the former ; and 
 thus the composition of the House of Commons is satisfactorily 
 accounted for. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 77 
 
 / 
 
 And, fooled by sycophants, stands fortli at last 
 A devotee turned sworn iconoclast ! 
 Behind him sit dense rows of golden mutes, 
 Deaf to whate'er demonstrates or refates, 
 Keady to vote, rescind, obey in all 
 The whip demands, as hounds the huntsman's call.i 
 They neither know nor reck what helpful deeds 
 In this grave hour their perilled Country needs. 
 They want to see their daughters nobly wed, 
 Their wives at Court, their own names trumpeted, 
 Their private Bills advanced another stage. 
 Their schemes of plunder foisted on the age. 
 
 1 In a recent debate in the Commons, a notle lord, who has 
 certainly distinguished himself hoth inside the House and out of it, 
 hy independence of judgment and character, was accused of having 
 hoasted that he was its only ' unwhipped' member. He disclaimed 
 the impeachment ; but the claim, if made, would not have been a 
 very exaggerated one. 
 
78 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Leave them but these, the gamblers come to call, 
 Nor heed an Emph-e nodding to its fall ! 
 
 When Power is built on props like these, how 
 vain 
 The hope that Law the giddy will restrain! 
 Spoilt by twin sops, servility and gold, 
 The headstrong crowd is then but ill controlled. 
 Li vain they now woidd sway who lately served. 
 And Riot cows Authority imnerved. 
 Better that such base compromise should end. 
 And the dread bolt of Anarchy descend ! 
 Ooths of the gutter, Vandals of the slum, 
 Thieves and Reformers, come! Barbarians, come!"^ 
 
 ' There are reformers and reformers ; indeed, the anther hnm-r 
 bly aspires to be one himself. Therefore honest men wUl not 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE, 79 
 
 Before' your miglit let rails: and rules be hurled, 
 And sweep Civilisation from the world ! 
 
 Nor now, alas, do Commoners alone 
 To private ends the public weal postpone. 
 Those too, whom worth ancestral plants on 
 
 seats 
 High above where all vulgar Clamour beats, 
 With paltry fear to their clipped ermine cling. 
 And shrink from right, lest right should ruin bring.^ 
 
 consider themselves confounded with the abominable ruffians that 
 defied the amiable Minister who, in their most outrageous mo- 
 ments, could confront them with nothing more valid than ' for 
 Greeks a blush, for Greece a tear.' 
 
 ' A threat of Abolition is always considered sufficient nowadays 
 to cause the rescission of a vote of the House of Lords, and it has 
 of late been pretty liberally employed. It is sure to be used as 
 long as it is found effectual. Might not the peers recollect, that 
 though ' Death is a fearful thing, yet sham6d lite is hateful' ? 
 
8o THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 The Peers stand firm ; the Commoiis disagree. 
 The Peers be — ^well, it now is close on three. 
 By five, a world of reasons will be found. 
 Throw Jonas over, or the ship's aground. 
 You know the fury of the hand that steers ; 
 And what were Britain with no House of Peers ? 
 Would Primogeniture its fall sm-vive, 
 Or even Property be kept alive 1 
 Let Herbert fume, or frantic Cecil chafe,* 
 Better a deal to choose the side that's safe ; 
 Bow to the will of Finlen and his hordes. 
 And still thank Heaven for a House of Lords !" 
 
 * Lord CamaiTon and Lord SaKsbury are both duly alive to the 
 indignities inflicted on the Upper and wiser House by the Lower 
 and more foolish one ; but even the latter, despite the high opinion 
 entertained of him by his backers, has neither done nor suggested 
 anything to resent or remedy the perpetually recurring affront. 
 
 " An exclamation which, though historical, can scarcely now 
 be repeated without a smile. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE: 8i 
 
 Thus may the British breast exult to think 
 That noble names can sell ignoble ink;"^ 
 That ill-got gains, if deftly spent, unlock 
 Birth's choicest circles to the ambitious smock ; 
 That Dives foul mounts fine Aristo's stairs, 
 If but Aristo Dives' plunder shares;'^ 
 And half Debrett urbanely flocks to White's,^ 
 To back the boor who saves them from the kites. 
 
 ■^ A book witli a hoble name on the title-page, no matter of 
 what trash it consists, is nowadays sure of a certain sale ; and a 
 well-lmown publisher candidly professes not to burn his fingers 
 with poetry — except for a peer. No one can be otherwise than 
 delighted when English literature, already adorned by several noble 
 names, adds another to the list; but gentlemen and ladies who 
 have neither love nor taste for letters may well be implored not to 
 injure their order by too naked a sale of its incidental advantages. 
 
 "^ A style of bargain that is now quite the mode, and accounts 
 for the appearance in civilised circles of certain strange and amor- 
 phous creatures. Future writers on the social species will doubt- 
 less speak of the process by which these are assimilated as one of 
 natural selection, 
 
 ^ It must be understood that White's is set down here only as 
 
 G 
 
82 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 His son succeeds kim. ' Make the son a Peer. 
 Why not % His income''s eighty thousand clear. 
 New blood is wanted. Here's the very stuff. 
 Besides, he wields the county vote.' Enough. 
 But hold ! there's Cato. < Cato ! are you sane % 
 Why, Cato's means but one small hearth sustain. 
 Ennoble Cato, you'll have Peers for life,y 
 Or else forbid the man to take a wife. 
 
 the convenient representative of certain supposed exclusive cluts, 
 and that it is not assei-ted that the incident referred to above has 
 ever occurred -within its -walls. That it has occurred in similar 
 institutions, the writer pledges his word. But -why dweU upon the 
 notorious ? 
 
 y The argument in favour of life -peerages is, that yoa can 
 thus ennoble men who are too poor to transmit a title. But why 
 should not men who have titles be poor ? If united with honesty, 
 their poverty would go a long way towards saving institutions 
 which wealth is, unhappily, undermining. The author believes 
 himself to be a Conservative ; but he cannot think that Conserva- 
 tism consists in trying to stand stock-still, and meanwhile per- 
 mitting oneself to be carried away. Men who desire to resist a 
 current usually strive to swim «p it. Suppose Conservatism were 
 to try this ancient and simple resource. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE, 83 
 
 He can't maintain the necessary state, 
 
 And "would you have a poor name legislate % 
 
 No, Dives' son 's the very man we need. 
 
 What says the Crown T The Crown! Of course. 
 
 Agreed, 
 And the young fool, enriched by parent knaves, ' 
 From Kuin's jaws our Constitution saves ! 
 
 Is there no path of honour for the great, 
 No sound and clean salvation for the State? 
 Mjist we for ever fly to shifts like this, 
 And trust to Gold to save us from the abyss % 
 Must honours old by new-got wealth be vamped. 
 And Valour's stock by plutocrats be swamped % 
 Back to your lands, base sons of splendid sires ! 
 From spendthrift squares back to your native 
 shires 1 
 
84 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Back, back from Baden, and leave Homburg's 
 
 sbades 
 To dazzling Jews and mercenary jades. 
 Leave London's ronnd of vulgar joys to those 
 Who seek in such from base pursuits repose. 
 Cease to contend with upstart Wealth's parade. 
 To wring your lands to vie with tricks of 
 
 trade ;^ 
 And, proudly spurning Gutter's transient lies, 
 At least be honest, if you can't be wise ! 
 Worship your household gods, and spend at 
 
 home 
 The soHd earnings of the generous loam. 
 
 ^ It is well Jmowii that people in trade oonstaaitly spend more 
 than their income, and aistnally return it to the Income-tax Com- 
 missioners as larger than it really is, in order to be thought rich, 
 and so he intmsted -with the means of hecoming richer. Is it not 
 truly melancholy to see men with fixed incomes, proceeding from 
 land, competing with these decoy-ducks of extiiaTagance? 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE, 85 
 
 Delve, fence, and drain; the dripping waiste 
 
 reclaim ; 
 Witli spreading woodlands multiply your fame. 
 Yours let it be to screen the reverent liiad, 
 Who loves your presence, 'gainst the frost and 
 
 "wind; 
 Scorning to count the profit, raise his lot ; 
 Lm-e the shy Graces to his lowly cot ; 
 Be, one and all, acknowledged, far and wide, 
 Patriarchs and patterns of the country side. 
 And whether demagogues shall rise or fall, 
 A Cleon mount, or Boanerges bawl. 
 True to yourselves and native duty, thus 
 Save this poor England by beiug virtuous ! 
 
 And you, Sh-, hope of this once famous isle. 
 Bound whom its halo plays, its fayom-s smUe, 
 
86 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Hark to the Muse, which, poised on Candour's 
 
 wings, 
 Flouts the base crowd, but scorns to flatter 
 
 kings. 
 Hark, while she tells you, nor her counsel 
 
 spum, 
 From giddy Pleasure's gilded toys to turn ; 
 That not from minions opulent or coarse 
 Do Princes gain their lustre and their force ; 
 That Reverence anchors not ia deep carouse. 
 And that a Crown fits only kingly brows ! 
 Fired by each bright example, shun the shade. 
 Where Scandal best can ply her noxious trade. 
 Learn from your pious Father how to share 
 With hands, too lonely now, a Kingdom's care. 
 Be by your fair loved Consort's pattern moved, 
 And like your virtuous Mother, stand approved ; 
 
THE. GOLDEN AGE. 87 
 
 Do for this England all the. Sceptre can, 
 
 And be at least a stamless gentleman.^ 
 
 Be this too much, you well may live to find 
 
 That firmest Thrones can fail the -weak and 
 
 blind, 
 And, though no Samson, sharing half his fate, 
 Pull down the pillars of a mighty State ! 
 
 Whilst om- domestic fortunes thus obey 
 All-searching Gold's demoralising sway. 
 We hug the limits of our puny shore, 
 And Glory knows om- once great name no more. 
 
 "■ Mr. Tennyson, in detlicating the Uylls of tJie King to tie 
 memory of Prince Albert, says, witli much feeling and felicity, 
 ' He seems to me 
 Scarce other than my own ideal knight ;' 
 
 .and in the body of the poem, where Merlin, loses all patience with 
 ,the 'harlot Vivien,' he puts into the wizard's mouth, when apos- 
 trophising Arthur, the epithet ' stainless gentleman.' 
 
88 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 First are we still in every bloodless fray, 
 Where piles of gold adventurous prows repay ; 
 But when flushed Honour sets the world on fire,. 
 We fiirl our sails and to our coasts retire ; 
 And, basely calm whilst outraged nations bleed. 
 Invent new doctrines to excuse our greed. 
 When gallant Denmark, now the spoiler's prey, 
 Flashed her bright blade, and faced the unequal 
 
 fray. 
 And, all abandoned both by men and gods, 
 Fell, faint with wounds, before accm-sed odds, — 
 Where, where was England's vindicating sword,. 
 Her promised arm,^ to stay the invading horde ; 
 
 "> The author heard Lord, Palmerston declare in the HonEe of 
 Commons, that if I>rnssia and Austria attacked Denmark, Denmark 
 would not be found alone. What hecame of these brave words, 
 do not the various cataclysms of the last seven years abundantly 
 inform us ? 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 89 
 
 Bid the rude German drop his half-clutched spoil, 
 And scare the robber from ancestral soil % 
 The fail- young Dane, beloved by every Grace, 
 And all the Virtues shining in her face, 
 Who, more an angel than a princess deemed, 
 Withal was even sweeter than she seemed, 
 With noisy throats we summoned o'er the foam, 
 And with cheap cheers escorted to her home. 
 But when with streaming eye and throbbing 
 
 breast 
 She, pious child, her loving fears confessed, 
 And, leagued with Honour's voice and Valom-'s 
 
 ire. 
 Prayed us to save her country and her sire, 
 We turned away, and opulently cold. 
 Put back our swords of steel in sheaths of gold ! 
 
•90 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 And yet wliat Bandy base doth Gold afford, 
 Though crowned by Law, and fenced round by the 
 
 Sword, 
 Learn from that Empire which, a scorn for aye. 
 Grew in a night and perished ia a day ! 
 Helped by a magic name and doubtful hour. 
 See the Adventurer scale the steeps of Power." 
 Upon him groups of desperate gamesters wait, 
 To snatch their profit from a sinking State. 
 Folly, and Fate which Folly still attends, 
 Conspii-e to shape and expedite their ends. 
 
 " No doutt I shall be accused by certain people of ' baseness,' 
 in 'trampling on the fallen;' but as my weak voice was raised 
 against the Empire and the Emperor long before they fell, and as 
 I ventured not only to prophesy but to pray that their end would 
 come precisely as it did, I shall perhaps be allowed to nse them, 
 as I do here, to ' point a moral and adorn a tale.' They have 
 themselves to thank for being already historical. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 91 
 
 The Horn-, the Man are here! No pulse? No 
 
 breath? 
 Wake, Freedom, wake ! In vain ! She sleeps like 
 
 Death, 
 The impious hands, emboldened by her swoon, 
 Choke in the night, and slay her in the noon ! 
 Then, when vain crowds with dilatory glaive 
 Rush to avenge the life they would not save. 
 The prompt conspirators with lavish hand 
 FHng their last pieces to a pampered band, 
 Bribe cut-throat blades Vengeance' choked ways 
 
 to hold, 
 And bar the avenues of rage with gold ! 
 
 Then mark how soon, amid triumphant hymns, 
 The Imperial pm-ple girds the blood-stained limbs. 
 
92 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 The perjm'ed hands a golden sceptre gain, 
 
 A crown of gold screens the seared brow of Cain, 
 
 And golden eagles, erst of simpler ore,*^ 
 
 Assert the Caesar, and his rod restore. 
 
 See roimd his throne Pomp's servile tributes swell;. 
 
 Not Nero knew, e'er Rome to rnin fell. 
 
 Far fi-om his feet the lust of glitter spread. 
 
 And the vain herd on Splendour's follies fed ! 
 
 Nor they alone, the shallow, base, and gay. 
 
 Bend to this Idol with the feet of clay : 
 
 Statesmen and soldiers kneel with flattering suit,. 
 
 Kings are his guests, e'en queens his cheeks salute; 
 
 Senates extol him, supple priests caress. 
 
 And even thou, Pius, stoop'st to bless ! 
 
 •^ The Boman eagle was Bometimes of gold, but more commonly 
 of silver. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 93 
 
 And the World's verdict, ever blind as base, 
 "Welcomes the ' Second Saviour' of tbe race ! 
 
 And yet how weak this Empire girt with gold 
 Did prove to save when Battle's torrents rolled, 
 Have we not seen in ruin, rout, and shame. 
 Burnt deep in Gaul's for ever broken fame % 
 "What then availed her com-ts of pomp and pride. 
 What her bright camps with glittering shows 
 
 allied? 
 What, in that hour, the luxury which passed 
 To soldiers' lips the sybarite repast % " 
 Did all her gold suffice, when steel withstood 
 Her stride, to make her rash, vain challenge good? 
 
 ° The periodical dtBtribution of chicken and champagne was 
 one of the Imperial methods of improving the fidelity and martial 
 •qualities of its prsetorians. 
 
94 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Behold her Chief,"in comfort longwhile slung, 
 By War's rough couch and random fare unsti-ung. 
 His vaunted Leaders, who to Power had mown 
 Their path with swords that propped a venal 
 
 Throne, 
 Brandishing rival blades,'' his brain confound, 
 While still, but sure, the solid foe press round. 
 See her soft sons, whom arms enervate lead, 
 Spm'n the long marches which to victory speed. 
 And, fondly deeming Science served by Wealths 
 WiU snatch the fight at distance and by stealth, 
 
 *■ The ex-Emperor, whom official documents prove to have re- 
 mained Commander-in-chief up to the very eve of Sedan, showed 
 himself as incapahle of composing the rivalries of his Generals as 
 of fm-nishing them with a strategic plan of campaign. 
 
 s There was no more deeply-rooted notion in the ranks of the 
 French army than that, with the chassepot and the mitrailleuse, 
 they would be ahle to defeat their enemy without even allowing 
 him to come to close quarters. The very fii-st action undeceived 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 95: 
 
 Smitten witL. fear at Valour's downriglit face. 
 And taught swift limbs in Flight's ignoble 
 
 chase ! 
 See one, see all, before the Victor fleet, 
 Then lay their swords, submissive, at his feet!'^ 
 
 hapless France ! e'en then insurgent ire 
 Had your soiled scutcheon lifted from the mu-e. 
 
 them, and they never recovered from the disillusion. They then 
 affected to believe that the Germans defeated them hy far-reaching 
 ordnance and ambushed marches; but the authoi', who followed 
 the fortunes of the victors during the whole wai-, can affirm of his 
 own knowledge, whilst he is abetted by every candid witness, that 
 the Germans defeated the French because the Germans were ready 
 to die, and the Fi-ench were not. 
 
 '^ That, once in Sedan, MaoMahon's army could neither defend 
 nor issue from it successfully, is indubitable. But why did it go 
 there ? There can be but one answer : In order to have an excuse 
 to surrender. The Capitulation struck the writer, who was pre- 
 sent at it, as even more ludicrous than humiliating ; and at the 
 moment itself, the sense of the ridiculous overpowered in the vic- 
 tors almost every other sentiment. 
 
96 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Placed the bright helm on Honour's front once 
 
 more, 
 And laurels reaped more lasting than of yore, 
 Had not rich ease your manhood's marrow stole, 
 And gold emollient softened all your soul. 
 0, what a sight — a sight these eyes beheld — 
 Her fair green woods by the invader felled ; 
 Her fields and vineyards by the Teuton trod, 
 Those she once smote encamped upon her sod ; 
 Her homes, in dread, abandoned to the foe, 
 Or saved fi-om rapine by obsequience low ; 
 Her cities ransomed, provinces o'erawed. 
 Her iron strongholds wrenched by force or fraud ;' 
 
 ^ It may possibly be nrged, that a fortress cannot be said to be 
 ' wrenched by fraud ;' but the premature surrender of Metz is still 
 a matter of so much obscurity, it has been thought its fall may 
 at present be perhaps best expressed by that ambiguous phrase. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 97 
 
 Her once proud Paris grovelling in the dust, 
 And — crowning irony, if lesson just — 
 The grasping victor, loth to quit his hold, 
 Coaxed slowly homewards o'er a bridge of gold ! J 
 
 Is there no warning, England, here, for thee % 
 Or are Heaven's laws balked by a strip of sea ? 
 Are thy foundations, Albion, so approved, 
 Thou canst behold such downfall all unmoved? 
 
 J The author is unahle to agree with those who think that 
 Germany might well have waived any demand of territorial cession 
 from France. On the contrary, he already held the view, before 
 it was expounded to him at length hy Count Bismarck as early 
 as last September, that an improved frontier against the wanton 
 aggressor was indispensable. But he cannot refrain from deplor- 
 ing and condemning the huckstering spirit which has wrung from 
 France so enormous a money fine, when the splendid revenues of 
 the provinces acquired are of themselves more than sufficient 
 financial compensation for the sacrifices of the war. Germany wiU 
 do well to guard against the aimi sacra fames, which, he is dis- 
 posed to fear, the sight of French wealth has abeady implanted 
 in its breast. 
 
98 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Have we not marked how. this Briarean Gold 
 Doth all our life and energies enfold? 
 And as onr practice, so our doctrines too — 
 We shape new ethics for our vices new; 
 Our sires forswear, our splendid Past de- 
 fame, 
 And ia high places glory in om- shame ! 
 Hear our loud-tinkling Tribunes all declare 
 Once lavish England hath no blood to spare, 
 No gold to spend ; within her watery wall 
 She needs to roll and wallow in it "aU. 
 Doth towering Might some poor faint Cause 
 
 oppress. 
 They bid her turn, impartial, from distress ; 
 Indulge her tears, but hide her ire from sight. 
 Lest a like doom her angry front invite. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 99 
 
 And when this craven caution fails to save 
 Her peaceful fortunes from, the braggart glaive, 
 They bid her still be moral and be meek, 
 Hug tight her gold, and turn the other cheek. 
 Her very sons, sprung from her mighty loins, 
 We aliens make, to save some paltry coins -^ 
 With our own hands destroy our Empire old, 
 And stutter, 'All is lost, except our gold!' 
 With languid limbs, by comfortable fire, 
 We see our glories, one by one, expne ; 
 A Nelson's flag, a ChurchiU's flashing blade. 
 Debased to menials of rapacious Trade •} 
 
 '^ It is true our colonies have still a sentimental, affectionate 
 way of sticking to us; but we, do our best to shake them off, 
 and it is not our fault if the filial tie retains any binding force. 
 ' Economy' is the justification of our spirited parental conduct. 
 
 1 ' The final end of the expedition of Sir Samuel Baker, as 
 far as its English abettors are concerned, is only too plainly 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Lost by a Cardwell what a Wellesley won, 
 And by a Gladstone Chatham's world undone ! 
 Pale, gibbering spectres fumbling at the helm. 
 Whilst dark winds howl, and billowy seas o'er- 
 whelm. 
 
 Yet deem you, England, that you thus will save. 
 Even your wealth from rapine or the grave ? 
 Will your one chain of safety always hold. 
 Or ' silver streak ' for ever guard your gold ? 
 If through long slumbrous years the ignoble rust 
 Of selfish ease your erst bright steel encrast. 
 
 expressed. The newly conquered Egyptians are to be compelled 
 to grow cotton. Supply is wanted in the Lancashire market.' 
 These are not my words, but are to be met with in the 'Pall Mall 
 Gazette, Nov. 19, 1869. How we act when we want a market for 
 our manufactured goods, let our daring policy in China declare. 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 When Storm impends, you vainly -will implore 
 The Gods of Ocean to protect your shore. 
 Bribed by the foe, behold Britannia stand 
 At Freedom's portals with a traitress hand. 
 Help the Barbarian to its sacred hold. 
 Then, like Tarpeia, sink oppressed with Gold ! 
 
 Perish the thought ! 0, rather let me see 
 Conspiririg myriads bristling on the sea, 
 Our tranquil coasts bewildered by alarms, 
 And Britain, siagly, face a World in arms ! 
 What if a treacherous Heaven be&iend our 
 
 foes? 
 Let us go down in glory, as we rose ! 
 And if that doom — the best that could betide — 
 Be to our Fame by envious Fate denied, 
 
THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 Then come, primeval clouds and seasons frore, 
 And wrap in gloom our luckless land once morffT 
 Come, every wind of Heaven that rudely blows. 
 Plunge. back cm- Isle in never-ending snows I 
 Rage, Em-US, rage! fierce Boreas, descend! 
 With glacial mists lost Albion be&iend! 
 E'en of its name be every trace destroyed. 
 And Dark sit brooding o'er the formless Void f 
 
TWO VISIONS. 
 
PREFACE TO TWO VISIONS. 
 
 The following Poem was composed one sleepless night 
 in Eome, in the early spring of 1863, under conditions 
 which those people who beheve in the peculiar genesis 
 claimed for their poetical compositions by Mr. T. L. Har- 
 ris and other less distinguished spiritualistic writers of 
 America, may perhaps think interesting and deserv- 
 ing of mention. The author was certainly quite wide 
 awake at the time, and distinctly heard and appre- 
 ciated the musical accompaniment of the fountain in 
 the Piazza di Spagna, hard below the window of his 
 apartment. But there had been so utter an absence of 
 anything like preparation or intention to compose the 
 Poem, and its stanzas rushed upon him with so much 
 suddenness, and at once ia so absolute a form — ^never 
 since altered — that he has always felt at a loss how 
 fully to account for them. The one fact that throws 
 some light upon them, and upon the far more material 
 
io8 PREFACE TO TWO VISIONS. 
 
 point to which the author has just referred, is, that he 
 was strongly disposed at that period to cherish certain 
 familiar schemes of human regeneration, which a wider 
 experience has made him regard as over-sanguine. The 
 writer ought perhaps to add that he has never at any 
 time accepted as real the alleged phenomena, much 
 less as true the doctrines, of any form of Spiritualism. 
 But it can point to a vast body of testimony, in many 
 instances supported by most respectable witnesses; and 
 no one, it appears to him, need shrink from lending 
 his assistance, however slight, towards elucidating a 
 strange and obviously important problem. 
 
TWO VISIONS. 
 
 The curtains of the Night were folded 
 
 Over suspended sense ; 
 So that the things I saw were moulded 
 
 I know not how nor whence. 
 
 Straight I beheld a marble city, 
 Built upon wayward slopes, 
 
 Along- whose paths, as if for pity, 
 Kan tight-di-awn golden ropes. 
 
7;iV0 VISIONS. 
 
 Withal, of many who ascended, 
 
 No one appeared to use 
 This help, allowed in days since mended, 
 
 ^Tien folks had frailer thews. 
 
 The men, all animal in vigour, 
 
 Strode stalwart and erect ; 
 But on their brows, ia placid rigour, 
 
 Watched sovereign Intellect. 
 
 Women brave-limbed, sound-lunged, full- 
 breasted,- 
 
 Walked at a rhythmic pace ; 
 Yet not for that the less invested 
 
 With every female grace. 
 
TU^O VISIONS. 
 
 Unveiled and wholly unattended, . 
 
 Strolled maidens to and fro. : 
 Youths looked respect, but, never bended 
 
 Obsequiously low. 
 
 And each with other, sans condition, 
 
 Held parley brief or long. 
 Without provoking rash suspicion 
 
 Of mamage or of wrong. 
 
 Distinction none of wooed or winning. 
 
 And no one made remark, 
 Till came they where the old were spinning. 
 
 As it was growing dark. 
 
TWO VISIONS. 
 
 And saying — hnshed nntimely laugliter-^ 
 
 ' Henceforward we are brie,' 
 Went Jiomewards, ' • N6r could ever after 
 
 Such Sanction be undone. 
 
 All were well clad, but none were better. 
 
 And gems beheld I none, 
 Save where there hung a jewelled fetter. 
 
 Symbolic, in the sun. 
 
 I found Cathedral none nor steeple. 
 
 Nor loud defiant choirs ; 
 No martyr worshipped by the people, 
 
 On half- extinguished pyi-es. 
 
TIVO VISIONS. Hi, 
 
 But oft exclaimed they one to other, 
 Or as- they passed or stood, 
 
 'Let us cooperate, my brother; 
 For God is very good'.' 
 
 I saw a noble-looking maiden 
 Close Dante's solemn book. 
 
 Go, and return with linen laden, 
 And wash it in the brook. 
 
 Anon, a broad-browed poet di-agging 
 Logs for his hearth along. 
 
 Without one single moment flagging 
 Li shaping of his song. 
 
 I 
 
114 TIVO VISIONS. 
 
 Eaoh one some handicraft attempted, 
 
 Or liolp the ■willing soil : 
 None but the aged were exempted 
 
 From communistic toil. 
 
 Yet 'twas nor long nor unremitting, 
 Since shared in by the whole ; 
 
 But left to each one, as is fitting. 
 Full leisure for the Soul. 
 
 Was many a group in allocution 
 On problems that delight. 
 
 And lift, when e'en beyond solution, 
 Man to a nobler height. 
 
TWO , VISIONS. 115 
 
 And oftentimes was brave contention, 
 
 Such as beseems tbe TOee ; 
 But always courteous abstention 
 
 From over-swift replies. 
 
 And — I remarked — though whilst debating, 
 'Twas settled what they sought, 
 
 There was completest vindicating 
 Of unrestricted thought. 
 
 Age lorded not, nor rose the hectic 
 
 Up to the cheek of Youth ; 
 But reigned tbroughout.their dialectic 
 
 Sobriety of truth. 
 
ii6 TWO VISIONS. 
 
 And if a long-held contest tended 
 
 To ill-defined result, 
 It was by calm consent suspended 
 
 As over-difficult : 
 
 And verse or music was demanded ; 
 
 Then solitude of night : 
 By which all-potent Three expanded 
 
 Waxeth the Inner Sight. 
 
 So far the city. All around it 
 
 Ohve or vine or corn ; 
 Those having pressed or trod or ground it, 
 
 By these 'twas townwards borne, 
 
TWO VISIONS. 117 
 
 And placed in halls unbarred and splendid, 
 
 Witli none to overlook, 
 But whither each at leisure wended. 
 
 And what he wanted took. 
 
 I saw no crippled forms nor meagre, 
 
 None smitten by disease : 
 Only the old, nor loth nor eager. 
 
 Dying by sweet degrees. 
 
 And when, without or pain or trouble, 
 These sank as sinks the sun, 
 
 ' This is the sole Inevitable,' 
 All said ; ' His wiU be done !' 
 
ii8 TWO VISIONS.. 
 
 And went, with music ever swelling, 
 Where slopes o'erlook the sea, 
 
 Piled up the corse with herbs sweet-^smeUiag, 
 Consumed, and so set free. 
 
 O'er ocean wave and mountain daisy 
 As curled the perfumed smoke. 
 
 The notes grew faint, the vision hazy^ — 
 Straining-my sense, I woke. 
 
TIVO VISIONS. 119 
 
 Swift I arose. Soft winds were stirring 
 
 The curtains of the Morn, 
 Auguring day, by signs unerriug, 
 
 Lovely as e'er was bom. 
 
 No bluer, calmer sky surmounted . 
 
 The city of my dream, 
 And what few trees could then be counted 
 
 Did full as gracious seem. 
 
 But. here the pleasant likeness ended 
 
 Between the cities twain : 
 Level and straight these streets extended 
 
 Over an easy plain. 
 
I20 TWO VISIONS. 
 
 Withal, the people who thus early 
 
 Began the ways to throng, 
 With GUrving back and visage stirly. 
 
 Toiled painftdly along. 
 
 Groups of them met at yet closed portals, 
 
 And huddled round the gate. 
 Patient, as smit by the Immortals, 
 
 And helots as by Fate. 
 
 Right many a cross-crowned front and steeple 
 
 Clave the cerulean air : 
 As grew the concourse of the people. 
 They rang to rival prayer. 
 
TWO VISIONS. 121 
 
 On their confronting walls were posted 
 
 Placards in glaring type, 
 Whereof there was not one but boasted 
 
 Truth full-grown, round, and ripe. 
 
 And, with this self-congratulation, 
 Each one the other banned, 
 
 With threats of durable damnation 
 From the Eternal Hand. 
 
 Hard by, were challenges to wrangle 
 
 On any themes, or aU — 
 From the trisection of the angle 
 
 To what they termed the Fall. 
 
123 Tivo visions: 
 
 Sui'mounting these were Forms forbidding 
 Some strife about the Flood ; 
 
 Since in such points divine unthridding 
 Shed had been human blood. 
 
 From arch' and alley sodden wretches 
 
 Crept out in half attire, 
 And groped for fetid husks and vetches 
 
 In heaps of tossed-out mire ; 
 
 Until disturbed by horses' trample, 
 
 Bearing the homeward gay, 
 Who, sleek and warm, with ermines ample. 
 
 And glittering diamond spray 
 
TWO VISIONS. . 123 
 
 That liglitly flecked the classic ripple 
 
 Of their full-flowiag hair — 
 For shivering child and leprous cripple 
 
 Had not a look to spare. , 
 
 With garments which the morn ill mated^ 
 
 Anon came youths along ; 
 From side to side they oscillated, , 
 
 And trolled a shameful song, , 
 
 Fair as is fair a cankered lily, 
 
 A girl -who late did lie 
 Beneath my window. slumbroUs-stUly, 
 
 Rose as these youths came nigh. 
 
124 ^^O VISIONS. 
 
 She seized the comeliest, and stroked him. 
 
 And plied each foul device ; 
 And having to her flesh provoked him, 
 
 Then haggled for the price. 
 
 Hereat my heart — ^this long while throbbing, 
 
 And brinuning by degrees — 
 O'erflowed ; and, passionately sobbing, 
 
 I dropped upon my knees. 
 
 And made forgetful by the fluster 
 
 Of trouble's fierce extreme, 
 I cried, ' Thou, the great Adjuster, 
 
 God, realise my dream !' 
 
TWO VISIONS. 12 s 
 
 Up came the sun, and straight were shining 
 
 Steeple and sUl and roof: 
 To such rash prayer and bold repining 
 
 A visible reproof. 
 
 Rebuked, I rose from genuflexion. 
 
 And did no more blaspheme, 
 Closirig mine eyes for retrospection 
 
 Of the departed dream, 
 
 Where men saluted one the other. 
 
 Or as they passed or stood, 
 ' Let us cooperate, my brother ; 
 
 For God is very good.' 
 
126 .TWO, VISIONS. 
 
 And I resolved, by contrast smitten, 
 To live and strive by Law; 
 ., And first to write, as here are wi-itten, 
 The Visions Twain I saw. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 LOKDOir: 
 
 ROBSON AHD SOSS, PRISTEBS, PiHORAS ROAD, N.-W.