5299 
 S.34Md 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR 5299.S34M9 
 
 AAusa consolatrlx. 
 
 3 1924 013 543 651 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis bool< is in 
 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013543651 
 
MUSA CONSOLATKIX 
 
CHARLES SAYL1<: 
 
 MUSA 
 
 CONSOLATRIX 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY DAVID NUTT 
 
 IN THE STRAND 
 
 1893 
 
MDCCCLXXXIX— MDCCCXCIII 
 
*EU, (BEU, Ti TOUTOU 7ap|jia [J.ei!^ov av Xoipois 
 
 suxvtJs azoCaai AazotSo? euSouot] <ppEv( ; 
 
 Sophocles, Tympanistce. 
 
T O 
 
 JOHN HADEN BADLEY 
 
Dear Badley, 
 
 These few verses can add nothing to the regard 
 which, since we sat together at school, I have ever had for 
 yon; and they certainly will do nothing to found a 
 reputation for stringing rhymes. But what a few people 
 may care to receive, I am willing to place within their 
 power of possessing. 
 
 In asking you to accept the empty honour of a dedication, 
 I am only anxious that those who read me should know : 
 that far above all poetry, — of which you have more in your 
 little finger than I in my whole body, — I have ever valued the 
 friendship which yoti have allowed to continue now so long. 
 
 Ten years ago to-day we lautiched our first literary 
 
 cockleshell. May I send you this little memento of that, the 
 
 pleasantest associations of which are connected with you. — 
 
 Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 C. S. 
 
 Ca-mbridge, 
 
 May Day 1893. 
 
TENUI PENNA 
 
TENUI PENNA 
 
 Op High Estate let others sing, 
 Of Nations' ways and People's strife : 
 
 Be mine to tune a lowlier string. 
 And break its echoes into life. 
 
 For, when I first drew breath, men say 
 Love came, one still December night. 
 
 And placed a lyre where I lay. 
 
 And vanished godlike from their sight. 
 
 And I must sing what songs He will. 
 Not strive for othere nowise mine : 
 
 ^Vhate'er betide. His Minstrel still. 
 His Messenger the Thrice-Divine. 
 
TENUI PBNN A 
 
 So all my life I wait His hest. 
 Obedient to the Lord of Song ; 
 
 Content to sing what seems Him best 
 To whom my melodies belong. 
 
VATES 
 
V ATES 
 
 He hears dim voices in the void 
 That call to his fine sense within : 
 
 He sees high visions unalloyed 
 \\'ith any mystery of sin. 
 
 Faint forms froin- out the pai'ted lands 
 That seek redress from human lawSj 
 
 Stretch forward supplicating hands 
 And bid him labour for their cause. 
 
 He walks beside God's hidden streams ; 
 
 He muses on Man's Right and A\'rong ; 
 Of all the wide \rorld's worth he dreams : 
 
 He wakes, and gives them back a Song. 
 
 1889. 
 
TO MODERN RHYMERS 
 
' Poet I I come to touch my lance with thine.' 
 
11 
 
 TO MODERN RHYMERS 
 
 To Arthur Symoiis. 
 
 Poets ! I come to break no lance with you. 
 
 Be yours the lingering rhyme remembered still 
 
 In years to come, albeit by the few : 
 
 But as for me^ 1 have no charmer's skill 
 
 To strike the chords that, yet a-sleeping, will 
 
 Place one beside the happy glorious dead. 
 
 I have no strength to blow a blast to fill 
 
 This England glutted with the healthy bread 
 
 Of Liberty and Equal Right. 1 tread 
 
 A lowlier, silent, older path alone. 
 
 And, challenged, hardly dare to raise my head. 
 
 I sit apart and watch you. ^T'^hen we 're gone 
 
 And men would paint the poets then no more. 
 
 Then may some ask : Who sits there by the door } 
 
 London, July 1892. 
 
PASSION AND FRIENDSHIP 
 
15 
 
 PASSION AND FRIENDSHIP 
 
 So pale. Night watcher, rounded to the morn 
 And hanging southwards, a forgotten thing. 
 Like a last lamp left at a banqueting 
 
 Still found aflare at cease of flute and horn. 
 
 There lies beneath you Southwark labour-worn. 
 Nay ! if it slumber ever, slumbering 
 While we, who wait, our mantle closer fling. 
 
 And, speck by speck, creeps up the day new born. 
 
 So pale, my brother, with this vigil night. 
 Seeking strange glories by this sullen stream. 
 While clock to clock calls forth from City towers ? 
 
 Look eastward, eastward ! Yonder comes the light ! 
 Leave we our converse here, our fairy dream — 
 Lo, through the long day's labour, love is ours. 
 
 The Temple Stairs, 
 idth March 1889. 
 
CONTINUAL COMFORT 
 
' Continual comfort in a face.' 
 
 Matthew Rowdon. 
 
19 
 
 CONTINUAL COMFORT 
 
 From the dark came we, to the dark return — 
 My soul and thine, O brother. For a space 
 We wander through this glorious dwelling-place 
 
 AV'herein the lamps of daily labour burn. 
 
 And as the hearts of passionate lovers yearn 
 For dearest lips that hold Life's biding grace. 
 So when I look, O brother, on thy face 
 
 I have no need of other love to learn. 
 
 From the dark came we. Need is none to prove 
 Or this or that, that scouts the mind's control. — 
 Suffice it wholly if we serve Our Lord 
 
 And Love ; if, like those flitting birds, we move 
 Across Life's hall, tenacious of our soul. 
 And see the feasters at the banquet-board. 
 
O'ER LONDON TOWN 
 
ROUNDEL 
 
 O'er London town the dawn is breaking now ; 
 
 The lights in street and casement sink a-down. 
 And morning rises with her pure^ pale brow 
 O'er London town. 
 
 Sick men take heart to see her purple crown 
 Rise in the east ; the homeless turn and bow 
 To watch the weaving of her azure gown. 
 
 Brave souls rejoice, lost ones recall their vow. 
 
 Rich men sleep sated on their beds of down ; 
 To each dawn sends her message — she knows how- 
 O'er London town. 
 
 1887. 
 
ROME 
 
' Toi, qui de Rome, imerveilU, contemples 
 V antique orgueil qui mena^ait les cieux, 
 Ces vieiix palais, ces monls audacieux, 
 Ces ?fiurSf ces arcs, ces thermes et ces temples. ' 
 
 Joachim Du Bellay. 
 
27 
 
 ROME 
 
 Moving among the monuments of Rome — 
 This side and that an empire in decay — 
 As flies the bow-string, memory flits away 
 
 And brings us back to sudden thoughts of home. 
 
 Then at the moment perished Csesars come 
 Or some great Pope in newly-won array 
 Andj passing by without a moment's stay. 
 
 Bid us reseek some citadel or dome : 
 
 — Till I remember^ set among fair streams, 
 A city where the world is ever young 
 
 And where new Life prepares her for the fray ; 
 
 And all her towers come back among my dreams 
 
 Bringing the words unconscious to the tongue, 
 
 ' There would I lay my bones at end of day. ' 
 
 Rome, Easter 1892. 
 
BEFORE A MIRROR 
 
31 
 
 BEFORE A MIRROR 
 
 'i'ou bring to life glad days gone by ; 
 Dear heart, those silent eyes adorn 
 With brighter stars the midnight sky. 
 With dearer light the new spring's morn. 
 
 For in your heart the world is young. 
 And Life, an open plain, spreads out 
 To your less erring mind and tongue 
 AVith many pleasant meads about. 
 
 (And not loug-tried and found in vain 
 This way and that the pathway lies 
 Blurred over with the blinding rain 
 And lost before we realize.) 
 
32 BEPOHEA MIRROR 
 
 O Love, the crystal moments pass : 
 The quick days pass above our head. 
 Not long we lift Life's phantom glass ; 
 Not long before the happy dead 
 
 Receive us, caught from death's alarm 
 And resting on, forever, now. 
 — Dear God, protect this heart from harm. 
 From every taint this marble brow. 
 
 And let the victory be for him. 
 While we, unnoticed, work and pray 
 And, shattered in the mind and limb. 
 Sometime, forgiven, pass away. 
 
 Rome, 1892. 
 
AT A BANQUET 
 
36 
 
 AT A BANQUET 
 
 Here, at the banquet, in this company 
 Seated, while round the shafts of Laughter fly. 
 
 Truly the wise man called it Solitude : — 
 Truly, for here are only you and I. 
 
TO TWO FRIENDS 
 
39 
 
 TO TWO FRIENDS 
 
 A SICILIAN OCTAVE 
 
 Like this poor weed I lie beneath your feet. 
 And watch you wander onward hand in hand 
 Over your heads the stars in heaven meet. 
 And trace about your forms a golden band. 
 Trample upon me, happiness complete. 
 And crush me in this desolate brown land. 
 You make the barren fen so sweet, so sweet — 
 O lovers, lovers, I can understand. 
 
 1892. 
 
PORTRAITS 
 
43 
 
 JOHN BEAUFORT, DUKE OF SOMERSET 
 
 WIBIBORNE MINSTER 
 
 Long time we fought, firm-faced, against the foe, 
 Guarding the lilies of the fair far France 
 Against the shafts of adverse circumstance 
 
 That hrought upon this man what all men know. 
 
 Ah, Aquitaine ! where late the roses hlow 
 The sweetest, e'en in warrior's mischance 
 Ours once again ! And Norman valiance 
 
 That Cressy and that Agincourt could show ! 
 
 Sweet, art thou there ! Bide patient, Margaret. 
 
 Sooth, who can tell what after us shall be .' 
 
 Rest we in peace whatever may befall. 
 
 Pray Mary's Grace : God's judgments are not yet. 
 Reach me thy hand : and mine, O Love, for thee. 
 Now may we sleep until His Trumpets call. 
 
44 
 
 SHAIKH MUSLIHUD-DIN SA'Dl 
 
 DIED, A.H. 690, A.D. 1 29 1 
 
 Six hundred years since good Shaikh Sa'di died. 
 That bowed himself in prayer at Yah'ya's side : 
 Six hundred years, and still the sages kneel. 
 And still m^n question of the Crucified. 
 
 ' Fourteen to Mecca ? Fourteen did he make, 
 Journeys, you tell me, for the Prophet's sake ? — 
 
 What profit then to kneel at Yah'ya's side ? ' 
 — Ah, Friend. What Sa'di did, will you mistake .'' 
 
 Rests he beneath his roses, would you know ? 
 Ask at Shiraz, ask of the pilgrims. Lo ! 
 
 They stand beside his sepulchre. Ah me ! 
 As he once stood by Yah'ya's long ago. 
 
 1891. 
 
46 
 
 III 
 MARGUERITE OF ANGOULEME 
 
 BORN, APRIL II, 1492. 
 
 Lady, tlie curious tale of pleasant mirth. 
 The jest demure or bold that fills your page. 
 Are fallen from us in our sober age. 
 
 And make us love the moment of your birth. 
 
 For now a newer spirit walks the earth : 
 Oisille and Parlamente no more engage 
 Dull hours at Cauterets — labour and wage 
 
 Have made your court at Nerac little worth. 
 
 Yet, Marguerite des Marguerites, you knew 
 That hearts were wider than all creeds, and took 
 True men to love you both in life and death. 
 
 Marot, Melanchthon found their rest with you, 
 
 Rabelais wrote for you his great third book. 
 
 Your Myrour held in trance Elizabeth. 
 
 Rome, April 1892. 
 
46 
 
 CALIPH MANSUR 
 
 Caupii Mansur, so this old legend goes, 
 Possessed a magic mirror wherein rose 
 
 At his behest, if he their strength would seek 
 Unseen, the subtle features of his foes." 
 
 Come, be the tinker, Omar, make amends ; 
 Make me a mirror which such features blends. 
 
 Mansur may gaze upon his enemies — 
 Be mine to look, O Omar, on my friends. 
 
47 
 
 RICHARD BARNFIELD 
 
 (1547-1627) 
 
 This wood-clad sinuous champaign ! By my gate 
 \Vatching the shadows race on Tittensor 
 And the faint sunshine upon Meaford pour 
 
 Muse I upon my solitary state 
 
 Nowise dissatisfied. Nay^ nor elate 
 
 Bethink me of those days that were before. 
 Glad days, glad days that now shall be no more- 
 Youth's days and springtide who shall separate ? 
 
 Hast thou forgotten, gold-haired Ganymede, 
 How I endeavoured, long ago, to move 
 
 Thy heart asleep with my poor ill-tuned reed ? 
 Hast thou found others to more worthy prove ? 
 
 Or, careless shepherd, is it still thy creed : 
 ' Thou lovest to be loved, and not to love ' ? 
 
 Stone, Afril 29, 1893. 
 
SONATINA POETICA 
 
51 
 
 SONATINA POETIC A 
 
 ' In the field of the mcadow-sweel. ' 
 George Meredith. 
 
 We lay beneath the shadow 
 In tUefuU sun's summer shine : 
 
 The breeze passed o'er the meadow 
 Across thy lips and niine. 
 
 One Love we grew, one-centred. 
 In the full sun's summer shine: 
 
 It seemed as though nought entered 
 Between thy lips and mine. 
 
62 SONATINA POETICA 
 
 One Life we were^ one-hearted^ 
 In the full sun's summer shine : 
 
 Until, at last, nought parted 
 Thy lips, thy lips and mine. 
 
 ' SBrit uni) icett tfi kic Sett, 
 aSretter uiel He ®liiig!eit.' 
 
 You sleep beneath the snows, love. 
 
 Beside the silent town ; 
 O'er you the aspen grows, love. 
 
 And near the stream flows down. 
 
 Here all the busy day, love. 
 The noise of tumult roars. 
 
 Time holds us in his sway, love : 
 Eternity is yours. 
 
SONATINA POETIOA 53 
 
 I. SUMMER IN WINTER 
 
 The wind sweeps down the frozen street. 
 The sun is hid, the clouds are gray ; 
 
 But since Love guides our wandering feet 
 'Tis summer in the world to-day. 
 
 2. WINTER IN SUMMER 
 
 The world is fair and warm the day. 
 The Sun shines in the cloudless sky ; 
 
 But since dear Love has fled away 
 'Tis Winter now in mid-July. 
 
54 SONATINAPOETIOA 
 
 ' Ever you sing- of Love : Is Love Life's End and Beginning ? 
 ' Ever 1 sing of Love : Ever I counsel of Life. ' 
 
ON A COVERLET 
 
67 
 
 ON A COVERLET 
 
 To Eerhert P. Home. 
 
 These are the angek looms have made 
 For one whom willing threads oheyedj 
 ^Vho caught amid material things 
 The vision of their hidden wingSj 
 And heard, transfixed, one strain remote — 
 The burden of their trumpet-note : 
 Whose are the haloed heads that lie 
 About me for Night's company. 
 
 — ^VTiat if around my couch of sleep 
 A thousand myriad angels keep. 
 And they should come, as they may dare. 
 Seeing themselves foreshadowed there ? 
 
58 ONACOVERLET 
 
 Shall I not watch in dreams anew 
 To see them tremble into view — 
 Nor waitj where'er my footsteps fall 
 To catch, far-off, their trumpet-call ? 
 
THE RUBENS ROSE 
 
'_/'aj voulu ce matin te rapforter des rases.' 
 
 Desbordbs Valmore. 
 
(il 
 
 THE RUBENS ROSE 
 
 LOVELY rose ! I gathered you 
 When Love and I together lay. 
 
 1 saw you in her eyes of hlue — 
 So long ago as yesterday. 
 
 Ah rose ! upon my desk you standi 
 Now she has vanished from our sight : 
 
 But you keep something of her hand 
 And ravish me with fresh delight. 
 
 Ere you have hloomed and faded^ rose. 
 Perhaps, perhaps — but who can tell ?— 
 
 She may be here again, — who knows ? — 
 She may be here, and all be well. 
 
 i88S. 
 
CHRYSANTHEMUMS 
 
65 
 
 CHRySANTHEMUMS 
 
 Falling leaf and faded flower 
 Briug anew the autumn hour ; 
 And the white mists earlier rise 
 ^Vhere the filling river lies ; 
 Gathered is the golden grain : 
 But the gold flower comes again. 
 
 Blood-red sets the autumn sun 
 Now the year's best woi-k is done. 
 Chillier beat the autumn rains 
 Falling on our colder veins : 
 But the season mocks the yeai-^ 
 For the blood-red bloom is here. 
 
 E 
 
66 CHRYSANTHEMUMS 
 
 White, pure white, ye come once more. 
 Chrysanthemums, about my door. 
 p]ach year when the rest have passed 
 Ye come again at last, at last. 
 Ah ! come ye back with pure delight ! 
 And let me dream of you at night. 
 
THISTLEDOWN 
 
69 
 
 THISTLEDOWN 
 
 I so lonely, and you so near. 
 And never a word between us, dear. 
 Clouds for sun and grave for gay, — 
 All for want of a word to say. 
 
TO HER GARDEN 
 
73 
 
 TO HER GARDEN 
 
 This little spot holds all my care. 
 
 This low-built red-brick wall encloses 
 Than any flower a form more fair^ — 
 
 For there my own dear love reposes. 
 
 And ever as I pass that way 
 The very wall-flowers seem to glory 
 
 In knowing all that I would say^ 
 And criticise our simple story. 
 
 Within, she heeds them not at all 
 The while, her girlish train about her. 
 
 She walks. Beyond this weed-clad wall 
 I pass, who cannot live without her. 
 
74 TOHERGARDEN 
 
 'Mid all her friends serene she moves. 
 Nor shows by any blush nor dimple 
 
 That which this tiny letter proves — 
 The secret of our love so simple. 
 
 And be she grave or be she gay. 
 
 Let me not press my love upon her :- 
 
 I only know that yesterday 
 
 I gave her all my heart and won her 
 
A SONNET 
 
77 
 
 A SONNET 
 
 To Ernest Dowson. 
 
 EbnesTj What holds your heart and care to-night ? 
 Is it some antic tale of Eastern lore, 
 Some world-lapped legend seldom heard before. 
 
 Or some new genius sprung at last to light ? 
 
 Is it some tale that you yourself indite. 
 Some pleasing fancy newly cradled, or 
 Perhaps a child's laugh toddling to your door. 
 
 That makes the autumn evening's glimmer bright ? 
 
 These, or perhaps the long gas-laden street. 
 
 With gathering of friendship for an hour. 
 
 Or haply silent musing on Men's ways ? 
 
 Or eastward is it that your footsteps beat 
 Working, while others round you starve and cower ? 
 Come, send me bui-then of your nights and days. 
 
 Cambridge, Nov. 1889. 
 
TO J. 
 
81 
 
 TO J. 
 
 DEMANDING AN INSCRIPTION IN AN ' OMAR KHAYYAM ' 
 
 HastEj Jackj to write your name in yonder book : 
 And yet write not, for when you are anear 
 No need there is of pen and ink to cheer 
 
 Our greeting. And yet write, for herein, look, 
 
 There is upon this page a tempting nook 
 
 Where you shall hum a quatrain clear and dear 
 To him who holds your gift in after-year : — 
 
 Write it, I swear you shall by hook or crook. 
 
 Nay, write it not, for what may prove to be 
 Most perfect is most fittest. So put back 
 Our Omar, sans inscription, on the shelf. 
 
 What need is ours of further poetry 
 
 When all our lifetime we 've possession. Jack, 
 Of one more perfect poem — of yourself ? 
 
A GAME OF BOWLS 
 
86 
 
 A GAME OF BOWLS 
 
 To E. C. Marcha'nt. 
 
 Light of step you fled away 
 Across the velvet grass that day. 
 Watching, we strove to follow you, 
 With skill of hias, two and two. 
 
 Some have wandered far afield 
 Mis-spent hy an impetuous arm : 
 Others prosperously reeled 
 Into the circle of your charm. 
 
A GAME OF BOWLS 
 
 That lumbering- fellow stands and stares 
 Distant a foot's space more or less^ 
 And filled with self-sufficient airs 
 Lives ignorant of happiness. 
 
 This other waiting still afar 
 Turns his full gaze to where you are. 
 And mourns across the parting plain 
 He cannot have his time again. — 
 
 Of me one half has gone astray 
 And on the gravelled desert died : — 
 The other half found out the way 
 And, di'ibbing, tumbled to your side. 
 
 1892. 
 
A COAT OF ARMS 
 
89 
 
 A COAT OP ARMS 
 
 Were I a herald I would trick your arms, 
 Ronald, by all the properest of rules. 
 
 So that mankind might know your various charms : 
 A heart of argent in afield of gules. 
 
 And lest perchance by any single one 
 The blazoning should not be understood. 
 
 Read it, I pray : A heart of simple stone. 
 And weltering in all your lovers' blood. 
 
 March 1893. 
 
TO F. P. 
 
93 
 
 TO F. P. 
 
 WITH A BOOK OF POEMS 
 
 Songs were sung in the young Earth's prime : 
 Now they are only strings for rhyme. 
 
 Take you these tho' they are but mine 
 For you won my heart in the Summer-time. 
 
 ' Ever a song in the world,' you say ? 
 'Good new songs on the Earth to-day.' 
 
 Yes, of a truth : and this I know — 
 Music lives for I heard you play. 
 
 1891. 
 
TO MUSIC 
 
97 
 
 TO MUSIC 
 
 Long time I wandered 'mong the arts to find 
 One that with true perfection should express 
 All the World's conflicts, all the storm and stress 
 
 Of Man's experience, heart, soul, and mind ; — 
 
 Hope, Joy, Sin, Sorrow, Prayer, Despair, combined. 
 And Love, and Hate, and Trust now passionless. 
 But each one failed. Nor Arch nor Painting's dress 
 
 Nor Poem's rhythm brought what was designed. 
 
 Then I found Music : and the World that seemed 
 Before to escape Man's questioning, began 
 To shadow forth from many parts one whole ; 
 
 And all that one before had only dreamed 
 Stood forth, eternal, now revealed to Man, 
 And uttered what the Soul said to the Soul. 
 
 1891. 
 
TWO DEDICATIONS 
 
101 
 
 To Hermann von Brodorotti. 
 
 Lost Love it was that brought us two together — 
 
 Whs it not ? — 
 Closer than e'er before^ in one June weather ; 
 
 And the knot 
 Which bound us then was this same song we made. 
 For hearts commanded, and our hands obeyed. 
 
 We found a poet's rime that told of loving. — 
 
 Here it is ! 
 Yomtraced the words and I the therewith moving 
 
 Harmonies : — 
 We took the naked sorrow of Love's wrong. 
 And clothed it with the raiment of a song. 
 
102 
 
 To J. B. B. 
 
 (i) 
 
 PROLOGOS 
 
 Take, for the sounds that are thine I have sent thee, 
 
 Sprung from a word that I caught on thy lips, — 
 Wine in a cup that a reverie lent me 
 And Memory sips. 
 
 Take though the song be unworthy the singing. 
 
 Wedded to words that are thrice divine, — 
 Chords that I strove to make worthy the stringing 
 As chords that are thine. 
 
103 
 
 (n) 
 
 EPILOQOS 
 
 Laboub of night that was lahour of leisure. 
 
 Caught in a trance at the ivory keyS;, 
 Lahour of love that was labour of pleasure 
 And labour to please, 
 
 Cast from the Cavern of Memory's Iceeping, 
 
 Messengers now o'er the parting sea. 
 Go ye to hearts that are weary of weeping, — 
 As message from me. 
 
PUCK 
 
107 
 
 PUCK 
 
 PL.VYPUL mood, I wander up and down the river, 
 Shouting in the sunshine, running on the bank. 
 
 Quirking mirth and laughter, jesting at the Giver, 
 Ripe for any kisses, up to any prank ; 
 
 Then at dead of night-time, world and men asleep. 
 Raise my eyes above me at the One Side Riven, 
 
 And I know that ever in my heart I keep 
 Thanks to the Eternal and the thought of heaven : 
 
 Like a child who sporting round his father's chair. 
 Plays a game of frolic father may not see. 
 
 Then, another moment, coming unaware 
 
 Takes the place unquestioned on hfs father's knee. 
 
 London, sxjih Aug. 1892. 
 
PCENITENTIA 
 
Ill 
 
 POENITENTIA 
 
 The brazen trumpets clang and bray 
 
 Above God's golden House to-day^ 
 
 The saffron-scented torches flare 
 
 High up upon the dancing aii-j 
 
 And everywhere new echoes fall 
 
 Most rapturously musical : — 
 
 It seems as though High Heaven were bent 
 
 Upon some new-wrought Sacrament. 
 
 With lute and lyre they hie along^ 
 With flute and pipe the angel throng ; 
 While here the sound of violins. 
 Responding to their call begins^ 
 
112 P(ENITBNTIA 
 
 And dulcimers so lightly played 
 Join in the chorus that is made. — 
 O what hath chanced in Dome and Hall 
 To hring them thus to festival ? 
 
 Gaiidium est in ccelo, hear 
 Strains immortal strike the ear. 
 Super uno peccatore 
 Pwnitentiam agente. 
 Gaudium ! the chorus sings 
 Loud ahove the cithern strings. 
 And high ahove the petulant drum 
 Angels answer, Gaudium ! 
 
IN MEMORIAM 
 
115 
 
 IN M E M R I A M 
 
 V^ERSESj in scholars' fashion, I pin upon your pall 
 
 For the music that was in you, the music you held so dear ; 
 And now that you have gone beyond the white notes' call. 
 
 And yours may not bring us back to hand and eye and ear — 
 Take these last long lines as the splendours of autumn fall 
 
 And the scholar throng is gathered, O scholar, about your bier : 
 Vanished is sudden light, and hushed are the sweet songs all, 
 
 Do you waken in your deep sleep ? Do you listen in what high sphere ? 
 
THE ORDINATION OF A GREEK 
 PRIEST 
 
119 
 
 THE ORDINATION OF A GREEK PRIEST 
 
 To Gyorgy Suba. 
 
 Once in our life we metj soul to soul^ and face to 
 
 face^ 
 When anointed hands were set on thee in the Holy 
 
 Place. 
 — What if we never greets save at the Throne of 
 
 Grace ? 
 
 Easter 1892. 
 
AD PONTES AQUARUM 
 
' Un homme qui venait de pays Ms lointains 
 Me dit : ' ' Dans ma fatrie il est un temple encore. " ' 
 Catulle MENDis. 
 
123 
 
 AD PONTES AQUARUM 
 
 I WAITED for one True Love. 
 
 I thought that I saw it pass : 
 But it fled unshriven like a vision damned 
 
 In an old magician's glass. 
 
 I waited for one True Love. 
 
 I sought in the land of dreams. 
 I sought long years : but I found alone 
 
 The echo of echoed streams. 
 
 I waited for one True Love. 
 
 I roved into lands afar. 
 I said : I will gain what these may teach. 
 
 I found but a falling star. 
 
124 AD PONTES AQUABUM 
 
 I waited for one True Love. 
 
 I sought in the vale of creeds. 
 They spoke to me of another World 
 
 And drove me back into deeds. 
 
 I waited for one True Love. 
 
 I traversed the fields of Song, 
 And I found therein a release from Sin, 
 
 But not from a world of Wrong. 
 
 I waited for one True Love. 
 
 I toiled both early and late. 
 And ever the echo came again. 
 
 Bidding me wait and wait. 
 
 And ever, O Perfect Love, 
 I wait, though I shall not see 
 
 In living form what I languished for. 
 Which is Life and Breath to me. 
 
AD FONTES AQUARUM 125 
 
 And nought in the world rests sure. 
 Save this — will it make a creed ? — 
 
 Ever I thirst for one True Love — 
 True Love that is God indeed. 
 
 1892. 
 
Que ton vers soit la bonne aventure 
 sparse au vent crispi du matin 
 Qui vafleurant la inenthe et le thym . 
 Et tout le reste est littSrature. 
 
 Paul Verlaine. 
 
127 
 
 NOTES 
 
 P. 35. Bacon's Essays, Oj Friendship, ' For a Crowd is not 
 Company ; And Faces are but a Gallery of Pictures.' 
 
 P. 39. Senecio jacoboea, Linn. Ragwort 
 
 P. 44 1. £. St. John the Baptist's tomb at Damascus. See GuHstan, 
 \. 10. 
 
 L. 9. Bustan, iv. 16. 
 
 P. 45 1. 9. Les Marguerites de la Marguerite des Princesses. The 
 l^ueen's poems, etc., were published under this title in 1547. 
 
 L. 14. Le Myrouer de VAme Pecheresse. Translated by the 
 Princess Elizabeth, afterwards Queen. 
 
 P. 47. The Affectionate Shepherd, 1594. 
 
 P. 55. Verses made upon a design, executed in stamped velvet, by 
 Herbert P. Home, Esq. 
 
 Two of these pieces, the property of Messrs. Blackwood and 
 Messrs. Macmillan, are reprinted by permission. 
 
TABLE 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Tbnui Penna ... I 
 
 Vates . . . -5 
 
 To Modern Rhymers . . . 9 
 
 Passion and Friendship 
 Continual Comport . 
 O'er London Town . 
 Rome . 
 
 Before a Mirror 
 At a Banquet . 
 
 13 
 17 
 21 
 
 25 
 29 
 
 33 
 
 To Two Friends . 37 
 Portraits — 
 
 I. John Beaufort . . .43 
 
 II. Sa'di 44 
 
 III. Marguerite of Angouleme . . 45 
 
 IV. Caliph Mansur . . 46 
 r. Richard Barnfield . . 47 
 
130 
 
 Sonatina Poetica 
 
 On a Coverlet 
 
 The Rubens Rose 
 
 Chrysanthemums 
 
 Thistledown 
 
 To Her Garden 
 
 A Sonnet 
 
 To J. 
 
 A Game of Bowls 
 
 A Coat op Arms 
 
 To F. P. . 
 
 To Music . 
 
 Two Dedications 
 
 Puck 
 
 PffiNITENTIA 
 
 In Mbmoriam : E. H. M. . 
 
 The Ordination op a Greek Priest 
 
 Ad Pontes Aquabum 
 
 Notes ....... 
 
 49 
 
 55 
 
 59 
 
 63 
 
 67 
 
 71 
 
 75 
 
 79 
 
 83 
 
 87 
 
 91 
 
 95 
 
 99 
 
 105 
 
 109 
 
 113 
 
 117 
 
 121 
 
 127 
 
 Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty, 
 at the Edinburgh University Press. 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 Foolscap 8vo, pp. xvi+ loi. 
 
 EROTI D I A 
 
 Price y. net. 
 
 RUGBY • GEORGE E. OVER.