(IfatneU HniuerBity Hihrary Jtljara. EJein f nrk CHARLES WILLIAM WASON COLLECTION CHINA AND THE CHINESE THE GIFT OF CHARLES WILLIAM WASON CLASS OF 1876 1918 Cornell University Library PR 4989.M95 Under the peak, or Jottings In verse :w 3 1924 023 987 351 UNDEE THE. PEAK, jl0TTIK[GS I)S[ yEI^SEj WEITTEN DURING A LENGTHENED RESIDENCE IN THE COLONY OP HONGKONG. BY WILLIAM T. MERCER, M.A., Oxon. LONDON : 1869. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. "If written to relieve 'the drudgery of a Colonial ExeeuMve,' this Ettle volume of pleasant verse needs not that excuse for any short- comings, for it abounds in evidence of good scholarship and real poetic feeling." — Notes cmd Queries. "The author deprecates hostile criticism. There is no need, howeyer, for him to speak in an apologetical tone, either to those who print their opinioms, or to the pubHc generally. 'Under the Peak is quite equal in merit to the vast majority of volumes which come under the notice of a critic. •••••♦ The volume is one to deserve more than a word of praise. It is clearly the production of a man of cultivation." — The Bookseller. "There is throughout the collection the genuine ring of true poetry." — City Press. "There is plenty of talent in this book, of a straightforward and honest kind." — Tk£ Leader. " Apart from their intrinsic merit, which is by no means inconsid- erable, these poems will have a special interest for many of our readers, derived from the hand that wrote them, and the circumstances attending their production." — London and China Telegraph. " It is from its merits deserving of our hearty praise. The first and most curious part of the volume consists of translations from the Chinese, and sonnets suggested by scenes and events in China. We have then miscellaneous pieces, many of them of great power and beauty. •••••• The original poems in the volume are of a varied character, but all form easy and pleasant reading. They range from mock burlesque to sad and sober earnest. They are all written in an easy flowing style ; and in some pieces Mr. Mercer gives proof that be is equal to a higher flight in poetry than he has yet attempted. » • » » His translations are good, spirited, and faithful. » • • * • » Mr. Mercer writes often mth humour, always as a scholar and a gentleman." — Perthshire Journal. " ' Under the Peak ' shows in every page a" cultivated mind ; and it is a conspicuous proof that 'the drudgery of a Colonial Executive' may be performed while literary refinement is turned to the enjoyment of friends on the spot and at home." — Home News. "A collection of verse by Mr. W. T. Mercer, of very decided merit, and of sufficient variety to please a wide circle of readers. He writes like a scholar, as well as a man of wide information and reading, who has studied the world of men as well as of books. ••••*• Mr. Mercer's general or 'promiscuous' poems are all of a light, graceful, and pleasant kind. ****** jjg gives some Latin versions of well'known English poems, which with a little more care might have entitled him to far higher rank. Some of the charades at the close of the volume, under the heading, ' Nugs,' are both musical and ingenious." — The Standard. " Mr. Mercer's contribution to the literature of rhyme and rhythm, contains ample internal evidence of being the work of a man of cultivated intellect and considerable acquirements." — The Athenceum. "The volume is creditable as showing Mr. Mercer's tender sympathies and pleasant culture." — Public Opinion. " Not only to those, who know Hongkong and the Victoria Peak of that sterile island is this volume likely to excite interest, but to every lover of divine poesy will its pages give pleasure in the perusal. The whole volume is redolent of the classic training of the author and his love for the poetic art." — The Phcenix. (Letter to jpratfd „ prayed. 71, „ 15, sister „ sisters. 96, „ u. foundest „ findest. lOO, 115, 123, 125, 201, 230, 241, 249, 251, 253, 264, 281, 302, 6, ^^ " those tresses wnconfined " between inverted commas as a quotation, last line, for whence read when. line 3, for exert read expert. No. of page 125 not 127. line 3, for Tindar read Tyndar. „ 3, „ lances „ timbers. „ 5, „ mars ,, Mars. „ 10, ,, cornvmnds read command. „ 3, dele " before ' ' Twas. last line, read Mortua cuijlatu supremo lair a dehiscunt. line 5, for ccBnam read cosnam. „ 14, read Membra stetit ^vXti/rj contacta subucula circum, „ 17, „ Tegmine non tenuit mdiore superbia mjCntem. „ 5, for poculis read pateris. „ 2, „ H^TO) read 'H^otm. „ 4, „ nequi read nequit, „ 12, read Claris igniferum fulgwr Jovis est in ocellis. „ 4, for smoothe read smooth. „ 6, „ /ar aTid nea?- read n.ear and fa/r. BAECHAM AND BEECEOFT, PRINTERS, READING. UNDER THE PEAK. 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/cu31924023987351 UNDER THE PEAK; 'or, JOTTINGS IN VERSE, WRITTEN DURING A LENGTHENED RESIDENCE IN THE COLONY OF HONGKONG. WILLIAM T. MERCER, M.A. OxoN. " Nos otia vitse ' Solamur cantu " Statius. LONDON : JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN, PICCADILLY. 1869. P R O CE M I U M. " J^ittle/' to use the words of one lately gone — " Little of the Poet's shaping art " Is in these sheets, and nothing more was sought, " Than that most sweet relief which dwells in verse.'' For their many defects what The Times once called , "the drudgery of a Colonial Executive" — the results of which are reserved for a graver volume — must be held largely responsible, and in addition an ener- vating climate; for the most of these pieces were written There where Victoria Peak looks grimly do^vn And bars the breezes from the seething town. Hence their title. To the critic, should this volume attract the notice V PROCEMIUM. of any, and indeed to the public generally, I would say apologetically, as said Aristotle — " Each loveth his owni work,'' or as Friedrich von Logau in his Sinn- gedichte — translated by Longfellow — "If perhaps these rhymes of niiiio sound not well in strangers' ears, " They have only to bethink them that it happens so with theirs, " For so long as words like mortals call a fatherland their own, " They will be most highly valued where they are best and longest known."^ The Haiollioms, Earlcy, Berks, June, 1869. CAPITA. PROCEMIUM. 1. SERICA. 2. PROMISCUA. 3. ANGLICE REDDITA. 4. LATINE REDDITA. 5. NUGyE. I, SERICA. HONGKONG SONNETS ODE TO THE SONS OF HAN CHINESE vers de societS keying's farewell the man of loo patience . the hanyang thistle the cave of camoens chaou yung's quatrain from the yew heo shetee trifles from the tartar the taifoong on the foundation of the cathedral PAGE I • 7 . 12 34 38 43 46 47 48 49 52 CAPITA. the sun of hongkong . lines written on a sick-bed god's acre .... " HODI MIHI, CRAS TIBl" THE TEA BALLAD A PROLOGUE ... . . AN EPILOGUE II. PROMISCUA. the power of love .... love's vision . SACRA .... STANZAS WRITTEN IN Tennyson's "in memorial" KATHERINE OF ERAGANZA GERTRUDE AND LAUNCELOT TO LAURA THE SLAVE-FRIEND's SENTENCE THE PLAGUE OF LONDON THE CARES OF CHILDHOOD THE THREE SHIPWRECKS . SONNET ACROSTIC .... "G(i, FALSE lover" SERENADE . "thy PRAYER IS HEARD" A ELLE FOR MUSIC JESSIE GRIEF THE RECLAIMER FOR A lady's album ISAIAH XXVI. 4. "RIDE, SI SAPIS" SONG HANNIBAL'S DIRGE . ■ 54 ■ 57 59 63 64 76 78 83 104 no H2 122 124 130 136 139 141 144 146 149 150 151 152 155 157 158 160 161 162 163 166 168 CAPITA. III. ANGLICE REDDITA. THE FORTUNES OF ARISTjEUS (VIRGIL) FROM VIRGIL . SOPHOCLES MOSCHUS PINDAR ANACREON HORACE . OVID VERSIFIED FROM HIEROCLES EPIGRAMS FROM MARTIAL FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY INSCRIPTION ON MAVISBANK HOUSE A. MELVIN TO G. BUCHANAN. ON DANTE's URN. FROM THE GERMAN . FRENCH ;) IV. LATINE REDDITA. TAM O SHANTER burns' BONNIE LESLEY „ EPITAPH ON MICHIE FROM SHAKSPEARE . ,, POPE „■ ADDISON. ,, GAMMER GURTON . „ LOGAN . EPIGRAM WITH TRANSLATION AN EPITAPH AN EPIGRAM FROM THE OXFORD SAUSAGE V. NUG^. ON GAMMER GURTON SONNET TO MY EYEBROW . PAGE . IS4 . 187 . 198 . 201 . 205 . 208 . 221 . 222 . 225 . 229 • 235 . 238 • 239 . 240 . 241 • 245 • 254 . 256 . 257 258 . ib. ■ 259 260 . 262 263 . 264 ib. 267 268 CAPITA. PAGE •'WHO BREAKS A BUTTERFLY" . . . 269 "HARK, THE LARK!" ib. ENIGMA 270 CHARADES 273 EPIGRAM ON A PARLIAMENTARY WITNESS 299 FRENCH EPIGRAM TRANSLATED , . . 30I EPIGRAM ON skinner's HORSEBOY .... 302 ON AN INKSTAND 303 UNDER THE PEAK. S E R I C A. a A STRING OF HONGKONG SONNETS. I.— THE PEAK. The precipitous mountain immediately in the rear of Victoria is to those who have the sense and power to breast it the best physician. What says Sterne? — "Oh, blessed health! — he that " has thee has little else to wish for ; he that is so wretched as to " want thee, wants everything with thee." 'Phe sun was sinking westward — and the side Of the hill, bluff and beetling, that looks down (Like a swart centinel) upon the town, No longer seeth'd beneath his fiery pride ; Then, donn'd the garb of exercise, we hied Unflagging up the slope, a chosen few. With breathing lungs and cheeks of stammel hue ; We gain'd the ridge, and halting, southward spied The Ocean and the islands — but we wrought Not for the palm of landskip-limner, we — Nor much reck'd then of Nature's scenery ; Health, chiefest of Heaven's gifts to man we sought And won — and be the rich prize theirs, the thews And sinews God has given who love like us to use ! '.'• I - A STRING OF HONGKONG SONNETS. II.— THE BAY. *' Static tutissima nautis." T^irg. Ceo. iv. 421. "g RIGHT beams the day : upon the haven's breast The matted sails are floating to and fro, And the white wings of ocean-skimmers throw Their shadows on the water in unrest, And those tall barks are toiling from the west, And these are gliding from the Eastern gate, Where the carp's fancied form confines the Strait,* And hissing steam, and clanking chains are heard. And busy Commerce lifts her voice elate ; — But high above the scene yon haggard bird. The dusky-feather'd sea-hawk hangs in air, And falls, and wavers in his pride of flight. And calls to man, see, motion is my might, Man's skill with mc to sweep from land to land I dare ! III.— THK TRIAD'S CAVE. This Civem, romantically situated, has now disappeared before the utilitarian demand for gi'anite. It was long the chosen resort of the members of the infamous San hop hwui, or Triad Society. Honeit John Crowne little dreamed of such a place \\hen he A\Tote — "No villainy " Lies in the prospect of a humble cave." TJp rise the craggy hillocks from the sea Precipitous, and all their gaping front Is grav'd and torn by blust'ring tempest's brunt In many a niche of rude informity. '' The Ly-ee-moon. A STRING OF HONGKONG SONNETS. 3 Deep in the grimmest and apart from men The robber horde oath-bound to mutual aid Would plan foul murder and unpitying raid O'er midnight counsel in their secret den ; But now man's wants have reach'd the place, and trade Has rais'd her busy arm, and the dark lair No more shrouds spoiler in its guilty shade, But wedge and mallet have reveal'd to air The nook where many a loathsome plot was laid, And horror's form is fled and all is vacant there. IV.— THE -SATATER FALL, " In a summer shower "Steeping the rocks around,"* falls mto the sea below the village of Pokfoolum on the southern side of the island, which is said to receive from it its name, a corruption of Heangkeang, " the fragrant streams.'' Since this was written the diversion of the stream round the mountain into the city has altogether ruined the once famous fall. " It is ; behold the rock, as was described, The torrent foaming down his rugged side." Hartson^s Countess of Salisbury, Act V., Scene I. QwEET cataract ! that sounding thro' the spray, Givest thy fragrant name unto our isle. How fitly dost thou in thy course display The changeful chances of this mountain pile ! * Bernard Barton. ■^ A STRING OF HONGKONG SONNETS. ' Long dost thou glide, mute and unkno^vn, till hurl'd Full into ocean's view forth thou dost leap, And dashing proudly o'er the rocky steep, Mingle thy new-born voices with the world ! So hath this waste of hills for ages lain Obscure, inglorious, till a nation saw And spoke, when bounding to the onward law The rugged island heard, and now the train Of the world's commerce to her shore doth draw, And lifts her stately head, the marvel of the main. v.— THK TKMPLK ON TAPLICHO"SSr.* There be other temples larger, More rich in gifts and gold ; But ne'er I saw a temple So lovely to behold. Bode's Ballads fi'o?n Herodolits. T LOVE the shelter'd fane on, Taplichow, Though there kneel pirates ere their trade they ply. And quaintest show of China's surquedry, The hatted western figures meekly bow,t And the long galley on their shoulders bear — I love the little joss-house ; o'er its head The sacred branches of the neam-tree spread, Rustle their leaflets in the noontide air ; * Or Duck's Tongue Island, lying opposite the Aberdeen Docks. t There used to be seen here a long festival boat, filled with Chinese figures, and supported by foreigners in tailed coats and round hats. It has been removed by the people themselves. A STRING OF HONGKONG SONNETS. 5 The sea wave ripples gently to the door Where the bonze stands obsequious — and within How strange the calm, in contrast with the din And busy turmoil of the adverse shore ; And grimly smile the Gods on prayer and vow,— I love thy little temple, Taplichow ! VI.— THE PIC NIC COTTAGE AT HEONG- KONG.* With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come. Merck, of Venue, Act /, Sc. i . piLL up the beaker ! let the rafters sound With mirth befitting this our holiday — Let us unbend a while — fling care away — And bid the native Dryads flock around — There, in yon wooded slope shall they be found, Listening in wonderment, as well they may The unwonted echoes of our frolic play — Rarely such revels break upon their ground — And were of late at Penury's stern call " The rude forefathers of the hamlet " toil'd Now pleasure reigns in triumph over all. And genial sport upon the dale has smil'd ; And may we oft, as now, high festival Hold in our nest here mid the hill-girt wild. * Commonly known amongst Europeans as little Hongkong, and said to have been formerly the principal village on the island. 6 J STRING OF HONGKONG SONNETS. VII.— THE CHINAMAN'S GRAVK IN THE LONELY HILL SIDE. (~)h Chow, or Wong ! or by whatever name Men call'd thee, or the Gods may call thee now, Why so extravagantly vast thy claim To mortuary earth upon the brow Of yon fair hill ? If all men spread as thou No room for things created would be found Throughout the Seric land, but all the ground Would teem with graves, and well might it be said That living ones were push'd from off their stools By men all useless, now that they are dead And vanish'd. Did Confucius leave no rules To bind a soul's ambition by the tomb ? Then let survivors show themselves no fools. But dig thy bones up to make elbow-room. ODE TO THE SONS OF HAN. Ad arma cessantes, ad anna Concitet, imperiumque frangat.- -HORACE. Cons of Han ! can words awake ye ? Up and gird your loins like men ; Let no longer sleep o'ertake ye ; Right the wrong^ — ^and slumber then. Rouse ye — let no childish scorning Of the outer world prevail — When in sorrow dawns the morning, Who shall tell the evening's tale ? Rest not now in dreamy quiet, Up through all your farthest shores, List the turmoil and the riot Roaring, raging at your doors. Sons of Han ! around ye falling See your shrines on every hand, Hark ! your country's wrongs are calling- Up — regenerate the land ! ODE TO THE SONS OF HAN. i Sons of Han ! yoyr cause is stronger Than the chains of the Manchoo, Bear, then, serfdom's yoke no longer. Up and to yourselves be true. Trust no more the wily Tartar, What are China's ^vrongs to him ? Oh ! your life-blood he would barter For the cosset of his whim ! All your dwellings he would rifle. Showing little ruth, I trow. An he wish'd a gaudy trifle To bedeck his lady's brow. Rise, then, now in fitting season ! One and all — a patriot band — Folly, giving way to reason, Clouds no more the drooping land. Arms, to arms ! your thew and sinew Prove ye in the battle's van. Show the ancient force within you. As beseems the sons of Han. Hearth and home to task your might for ! Hoary pagod, hallow'd laws ! And your dearest ones to fight for ! Oh ! be worthy of the cause ! Ye have chiefs of lordly stature, Skill'd the tide of war to stem ; Who so craven, false to nature, Would refuse to follow them ? ODE TO THE SONS OF HAN. Hark, they summon ! why demur ye ? Fix the shield, and grasp the brand — All your native blood should stir ye To restore your native land. Sons of Han ! Time's living annals Tell how Progress gathers strength, Even as water, forcing channels. Greets the parent sea at length. Europe once, perchance a scandal To the China of her day, Overrun by Goth and Vandal Long in unschool'd darkness lay. See her now — she bids defiance Unto all barbaric force. And the onward march of science Bears her conqu'ring in its course. Europe then be your example. Up and speak the high command, And no more shall despot trample On the freedom of your land. But 'tis vain — and words are fruitless — Speak them to the passing wind. And the warning were as bootless Spoken to the Seric mind. Heart and body wrapt in bUndness, Bound in Superstition's thrall Deaf to ever}' plaint of kindness, Oh ! the land is doom'd to fall. ODE TO THE SONS OF HAN. Not Tyrtteus re-appearing From his storied Spartan grave Could to deeds of patriot daring Fire the dotard and the slave. Falsehood reigns, and idle vaunting, All the nation is unmann'd, And the inward power is wanting To resuscitate the land. Yes, sad land ! the hour for action Even now is pass'd away — Sunk in discord, strife, and faction. Who your downward course shall stay ? Who of all your brave shall aid ye ? Who of gods ? or Taou, or Fo ? Idols that so long have sway'd ye ! Shall these turn the coming blow ? Lo ! the trunk is sorely stricken, Not in tendril, leaf, or bough. Lives the sap that shall re-quicken All the tree to verdure now ! Lost and weetless of your danger. Only can the profifer'd hand Of the sturdy western stranger Raise again your fallen land 1 Sons of Han ! as erst in Edom Fell each grand time-honoured hall. So before the might of Freedom Shall your darken'd fancies fall ! ODE TO THE SONS OF HAN. Muse upon the solemn warning Shadow'd from Copdn the fair — Sculptured art her courts adorning Tower'd in wa)rward grandeur there. But the alien seeds were driven Thither by the casual breeze, And her pedestals were riven By the spreading of the trees. Fell the statues from their bases ! Haply thus no more shall stand, Men of China ! in your places, You, throughout your pleasant land ! Bigots ! in this age of motion Sleep ye yet, the common scorn. While from gateways of the ocean Bursts the long-expected mom ? Borne upon Britannia's banners From her islands o'er the sea. From Columbia's green savannas, Sounds the echoing cry — be free ! Hear it through your myriad numbers, — These are not the days of eld. Modem earth no longer slumbers, Man no more in chains is held, Up then in your several stations. And, led on by stranger's hand. In the brotherhood of nations Moves the great Celestial land ! Hongkong, nth. March, 1855. CHINESE VERS DE SOCIETE. In November 1845, Keying, the well known Chinese V\cc- Roy and Minister for Foreign Affairs, paid Sir John Davis a visit in Hongkong. In that visit this and the two following pieces had their origin. The rough translation from which they were taken was by the late Dr. GuTZLAFF and somewhat difficult to handle ; in addition to which, as M. Rem us AT has said, "La langue poetique des ' ' Chinois est veritablement intraduisible ; on pourrait peut-etre ** ajouter qu'elle est souvent inmtelligible. " The first piece is wiitten on seeing a quadrille danced at Government House, and was inscribed on a fan presented by its author to .Sir John D.wis. The author was Chaou Chang Lino, Inspector of the Grain Department at Canton and a Doctor of the Imperial College.* r^AiLY beneath the golden dome They trip it to the music's sound, And eclioing thro' the royal home How clear and full the notes rebound ! Under the neighbouring alcove With the Phcenix step they move, * The Sorbonne of China. CHINESE VERS DE SOCIETE. 13 Finish with a whirHng dance And the noble dragon-prance ; Backward speed they, then they go Once more to the front, and lo ! Now they rise with eagle flight, And now in bashfulness again unite ! Gifted as with fairy wings. Swift as flakes that winter brings. On they gently glide, and then From the spot retire again ; And last they meet in close array, O'er each other softly bending, So their utmost mirth they stay And amble as if homeward wending.* 'Twas thus amaz'd I fondly gazed. Delaying until evening's close. Darted along Before the throng, And spied behind the dust that rose — (Such mien the lonely wanderer hath Who meets the blue wave on its path) — And then my lowly view I cast Upon the crowd that onward past. And saw the bloom of beauty gleaming And eyes with joy and pleasure beaming ! How this carousal elates the heart ! How the shadows flit, and the figures start ! * La Finale. 14 CHINESE VERS DE SOCIETE. How stately the grace ! the display how fleet ! As the rustling of wings is the sound of their feet. Elastic the tread, And with gentle dread The approach is made, And when each soft shade In flickering gloom Confusedly floats athwart the room. What splendour and beauty the eye may see ! In confident converse what harmony ! II. These verses were like the precedmg the production of Chaou Chang Ling, and were written on a fan handed to Admiral Sir Thos. Cochrane to record an entertainment given to Keying and his colleagues on board the flag-ship Agincourt, on the occasion of the visit to Hongkong already refened to. "^/"iTH mirth and rejoicing the myriads come, To the cliamber and gaze on the sea-bird of war. While her consorts around her majestic among She towers like a mountain high seen from afar. Unequalled the hall is in beauty, and lo ! See like a fresh rainbow the cloud hanging o'er, As on the tide's breast she is s^vung to and fro, The fathomless tide by the dark rocky shore ; CHINESE VERS DE SOCIETE. 15 And the dews of the evening descend on her now, Down pouring their welcome at fall of the night, But soon shall Aurora rise over the brow Of yon hUl and illumine the bark with her light. Ah ! hush'd be my fancy, for now I behold Swift flames* in a thousand gay circles entwine In the form of Lrradiant flowerets of gold. And the shores and the valleys in harmony shine, ■ Old Ocean no longer in gloominess sleeps, He throws back the blaze that the flame-work begun. And luminous sparks bubble up from his deeps, As diamonds flash in the rays of the Sun.t Yet within me my mind is all silent and still, For anxious in spirit and calm I attend. Not hopeful but wond'ring, not fearful of ill, I wait in amazement the mystery's end. Like LiHTAN the old Bonze that is fam'd in our page The wonders we view of your princely domain. Where everything shows you pure, perfect, and sage, Fit rivals with gods of the Ocean to reign ! Aye — a Temple ye boast that is known far and wide. Where to the rude stranger a welcome is shown, * In reference to the fireworks. "t The waters of Hongkong Harbour by night and at certain seasons are peculiarly phosphorescent — but probably the poet thought of the reflection of the fireworks on the bea. 1 6 CHINESE VERS DE SOCIETE. Where your countrjonen flock in the strength of their pride, And all the immortals acknowledge their own. And you of this Temple the denizens free By day and by night struggle sorely for fame, And your first wish as warriors in life is to see On your ancestors' tablets engraven your name. And your merits shall spread till all ages are past, And though yet fortune wills not the goal to reveal, Soon or late your renown shall be heard, and shall last As the characters wrought on an exquisite seal. Oh, friends, if ye ask what your mission is here, Receive the good saying of one that is gone, Upright be each act, and your conscience be clear. And pure be your mind as a god on his throne. Wield the sword but in honour ; rage not in the strife Where victory to you is easily given.* And in all living beings respect ye the life That springs from the godhood of earth and of heaven. * Considering tlie date this is a remaAable expression, \ fear that tlie concluding sentiment only proves tliat — They linow what's riglrt, but only so, Tliey never practise what they linow. CHINESE VERS DE SOCIETE. 17 III. This effusion was penned by Lew Tsin, the Kwang Chau Fu, or Head of the Municipal Corporation of Canton, who, like Chaou Chang Ling, before spoken of, accompanied Keying to Hong- kong, was a Doctor of the Imperial College, and gave himself to the expression of his feelings in verse. It was written on board H.M. S. Vixen, as we were leaving Hongkong Harbour, engaged in the task of escorting Keying homeward. It wUl be seen that the allusion throughout is to the Colony, the beauties of which are touched on with something more than a poet's exaggeration ; its past is cursorily referred to in compar- ison with its present, and Lew Tsin's own regrets are given with descriptive force rather than adherence to verity. Of the subsequent career of Chaou Chang Ling I never heard, but it may be interesting to record that of Lew Tsin, which was as follows : Shortly after the date of this visit his Yaniun or Court of office was burnt to the ground by a mob during a riot that sprang out of some foreign question. For his failure in dealing with the people on this occasion he was of course degraded, but was subsequently nominated Prefect of Chau Chau. He again fell into trovible, for while escorting the Siamese Embassy in 1 849 through the Province of Shan Tung he had the bad luck to face another popular disturbance and he was degraded once more. He retired to Canton where he died some- where about the end of 1852. 'Fhe silvery dews are falling where The fragrant forest-trees are bare — Leafless but lovely — while around O'er hill's and vale's enchanting ground In floating haze the mists repose, And with sweet breath the Zephyr blows, And woos the brooding gloom to smile That overshades the fading isle. CHINESE VERS DE SOCIETE. And here beneath the flowery dome Of the proud ship* that bears me home, With tears unwonted falhng fast, I sit and muse on moments past. My very heart grows cold below The robe that flutters to my woe. Like him, the lone one, who is gone Far from his father's home I feel, Or even as he, the stricken one. Who writhes beneath the piercing steel. I gaze, and gazing, clear and fair Springing in beauty from the ground ] Stands forth the royal city t there. And there, when evening gathers round. Still, lonely, still it stands like Kwei,% A rock-built eyry stretching to the sky. The glorious orb of heaven is gone Beneath the wave that trembles by, And still I linger, gazing on The stars that gem the southern sky, Gleaming on yonder snow-white towers, Bright, beautiful, as glittering flowers 1 ♦ H.M.S. Vixen. "i" The city of Victoria. X Explained to mean a place built on a rock. CHINESE VERS DE SOCIETE. 19 The glorious orb is gone, and tears Of sorrow dim my flowing eyes, As from before me disappears The evanescent Paradise. I sink in sleep — The lovely town Is ever present to me stUl, And in my vision, pouring down Its thousand streams o'er all the hUl I see the JFragrant jhtcenge !Krn,* And downwards then my gaze I turn. And sparkling in the sheeny air I view the nested mansions there. Within my soul on sorrow fed The loved remembrance thus I trace, Thus joys, alas ! for ever fled In memory find a cherished place. And cling about this heart of mine As round yon cliffs the tendrils twine. Chang'd is the scene ! and pale and bright Those parting clouds the moon peeps through, And spangles with her dewy light The feathery spraylets of bamboo, And streaks the shrubby jessamin That arches all the islet in. * Hongkong. 2—2 o CHINESE VERS DE SOCIETE. Again the change ! on that vast height The myriad dwelhngs of the isle Spring swiftly to my wondering sight, And on them starts with rosy light The silent morning sun to smile ; Gorgeous and grand he rears his head, And rises from his golden bed. Fair vision ! yet how lately here The fisher lov'd his hut to rear, Sole tenant of the dreary soil. The lonesome lord of all the isle ! And where are now those fishermen ? And where the huts that hous'd them then ? Gone — gone as swallows southward fly. When russet Autumn dulls the sky. Thus on your Sea-bark borne away In the now white-mark'd year yeh-sze, I leave your Empire bearing back A burden on my homeward track. And as my pencil glides along I pour my sorrow in my song. Like Kow H&ng,* small is my store Of fame — like Lew He'ang* I've taught The sayings of the wise of yore, But vain the care, the profit naught. * Worthies of classic fame in Chinese Histoiy. CHINESE VERS DE SOCIETE. 21 For mean am I — a very child — And as the worthless colt and wild, With hide unkempt and ragged mane, That roams unheeded o'er the plain. (Signed) An old Friend OF THE Diamond Hall wrote this.* * A complimentary term for the members of the Imperial College. KEYING'S FAREWELL. This is the place — stand still, my steed, Let me review the scene. And summon from the shadowy past The forms that once have been. — Longfellow. The name of Keying is tolerably familiar to Europeans. It v/as in the month of March, 1848, that, after some years of peri- lous navigation through the troubled waters of diplomacy, he re- ceived the final permission of the Emperor to resign the Governor- Generalship of the two Kwang Provinces, and with it the office of High Commissioner for Foreign Affairs. It must have been with unmixed feelings of pleasure that he turned his face Northward, if we may judge from the \\3.j in Avhich he expresses himself in this Song, which I cannot help re- garding as a positive curiosity of literature. For the literal rendering from the original Chinese and for the necessaiy explanation of the allusions to the Chinese Classics I am indebted to my friend, Mr. Wade, C.B., Secretary of Lega- tion at Peking. The original, which purports to be written "by one about to have audience of His Majesty the Emperor to give an account of his Stewardship," consists of six stanzas of heptameters, each stanza comprising eight lines ; but the antithesis of form if not of matter is so marked between the four former and the four latter lines, that I have found a division of the stanzas throughout necessary to a rendering of the spirit of the composition. From what I can gather, Chinese Poetry of the present day — that is, the occasional Verses in which the Literati of the Country KE YINGS FARE WELL. 2 3 delight to exercise themselves — has but little originality in it, being hardly more than a stringing together of " posies culled" from the gardens of their old classic authors ; and as far as I can judge the greater portion of these effiisions is made up of puerile similes, and the general idea conveyed to a foreign ear or intellect is the monotony of antithesis. Mr. Wade in his valuable "Note on the Government and Condition of the Chinese Empire in 1849-50," observes, "that " their poetry, rich in figurative beauties, is remarkable for vague- "ness and repetition." I venture, however, to think that this valedictory Ode of Keying is of more than ordinary worth, and certainly the cir- cumstances under which it was composed contribute to it a pecu- liar interest. He sets out on his return to the Capital, and at one of the halting stations on the border of the Kwangtung Province, he addresses himself to the Officials, Gentry, and Literati of Canton, with whom his connection is now severed for ever. The career of Keying, as now known to us, and his final end, had better be passed over in silence here. Tn Southern lands where far Meiling* Lifts to the skies his mountain form, The rosy-colour'd tints of spring, Of lovely spring were glowing warm, When his benign commandt was given — Oh, full as falls the welcome rain. Or plenteous as the dew from Heaven, His gracious bounty falls amain. * A hill range, between the Kwangtung and Kiangsi Pro- vinces. The name is derived from the plum-tree that grows in abundance on the slopes. A vrriter in the Chinese Repository says they are more correctly termed the Nan-ling, or Southern Moun- tains. + Literally "the floss of Silk,'' to express the pleasurable nature of the order. 24 KEYING S FAREWELL. My Lord has heard and grants my prayer, He bids me to his Court repair, And I once more with heart elate Shall gaze upon the Phcenix gate.* Tet, friends, grief throbs the swelling heart As strikes the thought that here we part. Here we must sing the wonted lay That speeds the traveller on his way. For seven long years my troubled breast Has yeam'd towards my Master's face, For seven long years it knew not rest — But now see care to joy give place ! Though still another thought will rise — What shall of all my deeds be said. Done in a distant land that lies Far from where shines his presence dread ? Be calm, my soul, nor yield to fear. All feel his influence far and near, Dazzled the outer nations own The light of his celestial throne. And heard no more shall be the sound Of waves in all the seas around, t The tiger moves with stately tread. On stately wing the dragon soars,J * Leading into the forbidden precinct on the South of the Imperial Palace. t The waves of commotion in the sea of politics, a metaphor used by Horace, i Carm. i, 14; also by Cicero. } Figurative expressions for advancement in office. KEYING' S FAREWELL. 25 To Kiangnan his order sped And bade me seek the southern shores ;* But, oh, my rubied t heart was sore. For years and moons are past away. The honours of my head are gray. And I am worthless, nothing more Than the vile soil that lies below The turbid streamlet's onward flow. Peace still has been my constant aim, Although my word was little weighed. For now to prop a broken frame I need the drug's renewing aid, :j: I feel old age come creeping on. Oh, then how surely blest am I, That I shall see once more the sun Enthron'd amid the clouds on high ! § Oh, with what joy shall I behold The mien of heaven in hues of gold Dart thro' the mist its quickening ray,' The mist that melts at rising day ! * He was Governor-General of the more Northern Provinces, the two Kiang, when Elipu died in March, 1843, whom he suc- ceeded as Imperial High Commissioner at Canton. + Red, or loyal. X Literally, the ginger and the cassia, spices supposed to re- invigorate old and worn-out men. § I.e. the sun or light of the Imperial presence. 26 KEYING S FAREWELL. And years are come, and years are fled, And clouds still circled round my car,* And life roU'd on in plains afar Where rears Meiling his lofty head, And still I strove to point my ways As public honor loves to go, And counsel gave in kindly phrase To all around me and below. And those who with me steer'd the state Shar'd with the people love and hate ;t And hence the happy people call My rule a rule of joy for all; And when the war-note sounded high The soldiers answer'd to the cry ; Not Ki^u Yku X himself more zeal Show'd fighting for the common weal. Who knows not of the great of old When gush'd the fierce Cawana's blood? § * Clouds, as removed from tlie light of the presence. + A compliment to the Civil Officers, or parents of the people. In his Treatise on Government, known as the Ta Hioh, or learning for adults, Confiicius lays down "that the prince must love that which the people love, and hate that which they hate.'' X A compliment to the Military, comparing them to a cele- brated general under the Han, B.C. 80. § This is said to have taken place about A.D. 800 in the Kwangtimg Province. The hero's name was Han Yu ; he sacri- ficed a sheep and a pig to the divinity of the Sea, and delivered the country in seven days from the alligator that infested it. KE YJNG'S FARE WELL. 2 7 And songs ennoble him, the bold, Whose arrows stemm'd the rushing flood ! * Oh, had it been my favor'd fate The oil of lasting peace to fling O'er all the ocean-plain of late Deep ruffl'd by the monster king, t Then had I, mindless of my years, Forgotten all my toils and fears. Stood before himX with honest pride, The needless corslet thrown aside, The brand of battle sheathed at last, The vict'ry won, the labour past ! Behold, in this pavilion fair The parting draught is lifted up. But ah, the sorrow centred there ! Dash down, dash down the joyless cup. Oh, comrades of the Pearly Stream,§ Speak forth aloud, and tell to fame * This is told not of a general, but of the prince of a small state in Chekiang Province, who led out his troops to fire with bows and a sort of balister upon an inundation of the Sea, and turned it back. t The metaphor of the Sea of Politics is kept up, and the "monster king'' apparently means the British Government. Keying would seem to have misgivings about the endurance of the peace between the two countries, founded, it might be on the unconciliating spirit of his successor, Sii. J Him, the Emperor. § The Ta Ho, or River on which Canton stands, commonly known as the Chookiang, or Pearl River. 28 KEYING S FAREWELL. If I have justly held the beam. And prov'd the honor of your name ; Though with bent brow and lab'ring breast In mercy was my rage represt, When yoti have felt the bitter pain, My heart responsive throbb'd again, And I have seen in that dread hour The strength of your avenging power.* Yet, see, the parting cup we drain And o'er it are our hearts entwined. At every halt I draw the rein. And give my sighs forth to the vidnd — The glories of the spring, alas ! Four timest have pour'd their garish sheen. Dimly as through the mountain pass The weary traveller's steed is seen ; And as I turn me homeward now, ■ The sight of yonder cloud-capp'd brow Again calls up the time gone by, And woes again the heaving sigh. I But neath the peak of far Lofduij: Once more the waking spring light burns, * His meaning is — though the pacific poUcy to which I have inclined out of consideration to tlie people, has given no oppor- tunity for a display of martial heroism, I have seen of how much you were capable, whenever there has been occasion for you to exert yourselves. t Although " for j^^n long years" he had been absent from the Imperial Court, he had passed \ivA.faur springs in the South. % A hill at no great distance from Canton city. KEYING S FAREWELL. 29 And dancing in the fragrance now Of thousand flowers my bark* returns, Bursts forth the glorious sun of spring, And gilds my Court with radiance rare, And from the wall the banners fling Their waving folds upon the air ; And here where rests my journey's tent. How genial is the perfumed scent. Shed by the fair, the sweet lichee. From out the gardens balmily ! — Once more the cup, the parting cup, 'Tis mine again to flash the steel. Not yet my strength is shrunken up, And I would tell ye all I feel — Here for a time the load I rest So long upon my shoulder borne — Let care be banish'd from the breast And let us cease awhile to mourn. In you my brothers I confide Your wisdom prov'd, your conduct tried, For well I know to you is given The unerring power that comes from Heaven, The nether world to regulate. And rule aright the public state. * Literally "fairy or mythic bark."— The word employed describes a boat which, in the time of the Tang, ascended to Heaven by way of the Yellow River. 30 KE YING'S FARE WELL. On high have roU'd the spangl'd cars, On earth has fallen the nightly dew, As fell the dew, as roU'd the stars, My hair has worn a whiter hue. Again upon the mountain track I draw the rein, and check the steed. But still the busy thought comes back That all my care the nurslings* need — Fain would I throw my mantle round, But age unmeet for toil is found. And yet from off my brow to tear The sign of service shall I dare ? No ! Heaven forbid — though not more worth Than stubble on the fallow lea. Still let me step energic forth, And counsel peace, that peace may be. Though like the humble mallow flower Among the plants of nobler fame. Far be from me the ungrateful hour When I forget my country's claim ! Farewell — farewell — the time is near — I count the glories of the year — The moon shall shine with silvery pride In the deep warmth of Summer tide, * YJAzxz&y plants, but ra^xam^the people. " Ah think at least thy flock deserves thy care, " Plants of thy hand, and children of thy prayer." — Pope — Eloisa to Abelard. KEYING S FAREWELL. 31 And I shall leave my lowly bower, And hasten to the Phoenix Tower,* What time grey mom o'er flood and fell Sheds rosy light — farewell — farewell ! — * He means that he shall hasten to the morning levee held by the Emperor in the Phrenix Tower. See above. THE MAN OF LOO. (From the A^ew Hco, or Female Iiistnictor, a work by Ltichow of Fokien. ) TSEW HooTSZE of Loo married a wife, and five days after the marriage left her to fill an office to which he had been appointed in the state Chin, where he remained for many years. — Returning home at last, he saw, as he approached his house, a woman picking mulberries, and entered into conversation with her, but she continued her occupation without loolcing at him. " You "labour,"' said TsEW, '' as if a famine were near, and you give "more attention to mulberries than to a lord of the land — I am "ready to give you yellow gold, fair lady." But the lady answered, " Begone, I wish the gold of no man. " TsEW passed on to his house, found his mother, and handed her his money — The mother called his wife, who, she said, was in the mulberry field ; TsEw's astonishment was gi'eat when he saw in his wife the lady with whom he had just spoken. She thus upbraided him. " You saw and were stricken -with a pretty face; in this ' ' you forgot your wife ; you offered to throw away your gold ; ' ' in tliis you forgot your mother. In both respects you were un- ' ' dutiful — Neglect your parents, and you will be faithless to your ' ' prince ; be unmindful of your family, and you will be unjust in "office; \\'hen social duty and public justice are uncared for, " trouble is at hand. I wish you to many another.'' She then wtni down to the neighbouring river, and drowned herself, leaving this scroll for her husband : THE MAN OF LOO. 33 P^ VERSE from her who half her life has trimm'd the lamp alone, From out the watery deep where death now claims her for his own : Oh, slender is a husband's love, Frail as the wither'd leaf, Gods ! take me to your seats above. And snatch me from my grief Ice is not purer, brighter than The virtue of his wife ! ; And why should I moan out the span Of transitory life ? He offered me the yellow gold, He called me ladie fair. Oh, man of Loo, oh, bad and bold. What wrongs are mine to bear ! I spum'd him when he mincingly Drew near with converse gay, I said : false man, away with thee, I wish no gold — away ! — There was a time — but now 'tis o'er — The husband, lover, friend — All three, alas ! to be no more, For this — this is the end ! From out the watery deep where death now claims her for his own. These lines from one who half her life has trimm'd the lamp alone. PATIENCE, PIH JIN KO, An Ode or Poena on Self-control by an unknown Author. This trifle is characteristic of the literature of the country, being a string of the antitheses that abound in Oriental Poetry. It was found by a contributor to the Chinese Repository in a small volume containing two others, also anonymous, on Filial Duty and the Good Man. It is here attempted to dress it in decasyllabic verse, as most suited to the nature of the subject. Patience of all domestic worth the spring, The source of good and peaceful rule, I sing. With patience summer's heat is little felt, And ice by patience has been known to melt, Poortith is happy, and the patient man Finds his life lengthen'd to a longer span. Sublimest viitue ! 'neath thy guiding star Fame brighter shines, and riches richer are, But thee without small ills shall change to great, And love and duty shall be turn'd to hate, In their impatience son and sire shall part. In brothers perish all a brother's heart, PATIENCE. 35 Friends shall no more in friendly task engage, And wife and husband in the strife shall rage. See Lew, a man by general acclaim Rob'd in the glory of an honour'd name, Reckless in wine, he spurns thy guardian care. And all his honours are but empty air ; See Chin, his passions failing to restrain, Tarnish the grandeur of a kingly reign, Sheih, careless of his purse, awake to know Himself and house o'erwhelm'd in deepest woe, While Heang Yu, impatient of control. Plays his last stake and throws away the whole. Behold Kow, injur'd, brooding o'er the past. But patience brings him triumph at the last, While Tan, forgetful of the golden mean. Departs in sorrow from this earthly scene ; Some like Sze Tih are wise and own thy rule. When Chaou who mocks thee stands confest a fool ; Han sorely tempted listened still to thee. But hasty Yung lost life and liberty ; In his impatience Hwang self-slaughter'd fell. And his shade settled in the depths of hell. While Chang, obedient to the sprite's command, By the swift river took his tranquil stand,* * Chang Leang was bidden by an angel in disguise to stand upon the bank of a river in order to try his patience. He was laughed at by people, but heeded not. After a time the angtl rewarded him with a divine book on the art of war, and studying it, he became a renowned warrior. 3—2 36 PATIENCE. Receiv'd the God-sent gift that patience won, Then forth he strode his warrior course to run, And to all after ages left a name Engrav'd by patience on the scroll of fame. Then patience of all other good the spring And source of every virtue let me sing. Yes, it were well to bear what others shun, The wise stand suffering when the foolish run ; To sooth the passions and the mind restrain, To hold the lower place, is very gain. Patience ! the word is virtue's lowest root And branches upward to the topmost shoot, 'Mong tribes barbarian it commands success, Powerful the madding tumult to repress, Calls up the Godhood that we feel within, In cold and hunger strives a name to win. Thro' toil and labour comforts will ensure. And keeps the temple of the body pure. His erring kindred shall one spare and love ? He shall be cherish'd of the Gods above — Shall he his craving appetite deny ? The lives of thousands shall be saved thereby* — Or shall he learn to curb a tattling tongue ? Not his to crawl the slanderous crowd among — Let him forbear, nor mingle in the strife. No longer hatred mars his even life — * The allusion is probably to the idea of impropriety in the slaughter of animals for human food. PATIENCE. 37 Patient before abuse he proves his power To quell the factious in a stormy hour. See one his head in patient study bend, And learning's honours on his house descend, See him from angry contest gently cease, And rest his buried ancestors in peace, Or from mean avarice refrain, and lo, The Gods their mantle o'er his seed shall throw ! Then be it known as wide as spreads the sky So vast is patience, and her sphere as high. And spurn her not because in Seric tongue Over the heart she holds the falchion hung,* Nor laugh ye vainly with the mocking throng When Patience walks the humble paths along, For when the toil is past, the combat won. Through all the crowd the shout of praise shall run, With her all blessings come by gift divine. And cares are all forgotten at her shrine. Thus Patience of all good the heavenly spring, And Virtue's fountain, it is mine to sing. * This has reference to the form of the Chinese character by which the word patience is expressed, and the fancied resemblance therein to a dagger over a heart. THE HANYANG THISTLE. In explanation of these lines it must be stated that they had their origin in a visit to the hill and fort of Hanyang. Hanyang is to Hankow (an open port nearly 5oo miles up the \'ang-tze-kiang) somewhat like Stonehouse to Plymouth, Wo- chang-foo, the great military Station across the river, being the Devonport. The city of Hankow is on the east side of the river Han where it debouches into the Great River, Hanyang is on the other. During the Taiping Rebellion great contests took place .for the possession of these ports, and three times in the course of the few years antecedent to 1 86 1 \\'ere the Imperialists driven thence 1 ly the insurgents, three times recovering the position. — The cruelties pei-petrated on both sides would be almost incredible if they were detailed. On the 2nd May, iS6i, I was in the fort of Hanyang with a party of friends, one of whom spied a thistle growing on the rampart and presented it to me as a representative of the Country of which the thistle is the emblem. The result of the incident was the following : gTRANGE that upon this distant hill, Within this fort, this leaguer'd height, Where love the sons of Han to spill Fraternal blood in savage fight, THE HANYANG THISTLE. 39 Where thrice within these later years Has rung the cry of civic strife, Mid flaunting flags and braggart spears, And swords that lightly reck of life, Where loyal cowardice has fled The riot-wrath of rebel men, And then, corruption's triumph sped, Troop'd back in bastard pride again ; Where cruelty with fiendish glee Has watch'd the oozing blood run warm, And hounds of hell have smil'd to see How writh'd the maiden's tender form — A scene where all man's passions rage And lie against his god-given birth, A blot on human history's page, A darkness o'er the light of earth ; — Strange that within this guarded lair A flower — a little flower — is found, And seems to mock the very air That breathes its sickening taint around. Yes — raising up its beauteous blue I see my country's emblem here. To manhood and to Scotland true, What Robin calls " the symbol dear."* * The rough burr-thistle spreading wide Among the bearded bear, I turn'd my weeder-clips aside, And spar'd the symbol dear. Burns, 40 THE HANYANG THISTLE. Nature's bold nursling ! say what chance Hath borne thee from far other plains ? Hast thou no shame to bend thy glance On reeking brands and gory chains ? Not by the turbid Ta Kiang * First grew in peace thy parent root, The blood-stain'd hummock of Hanyang Thy purity may poorly suit ! What dost thou here, where barb'rous men Have fix'd their lawless battle-ground ? Better for thee the silent glen Or where the shepherd's pipe shall sound ; Better to nod thy bristly head Where the old Grampian summits rise, Than find a mean unhonour'd bed 'Neath the rank glare of China's skies ; Better to bloom among the brave, The true, the gentle, and the free. Than with the savage and the knave Associate ingloriously ; And oh ! how better far to know That heavenward wings its way thro' air The Christian hymn, and sweetly flow The solemn words of Christian prayer. Than listen to the childish cant, The sciolism of mummers here, * The Yang-tze-kiang (child of the Ocean) is really known among the natives as Ta-kiang, the Great River. THE HANYANG THISTLE. 41 The blasphemy and Babel-rant That foul God's holy atmosphere ! The scroll, that round thy graven form Each Scottish heart is proud to trace, 111 suits it with the vapid storm And weakness of a blustering race : " None shall unscath'd provoke me " : there Well speaks the sturdy Scottish mind. But babes this coistril crowd might dare And drive as chaff before the wind — What dost thou here ? As well might be A ship upon the mountain-height, A stone-wrought pyramid at sea. Or sun-shine mid the shades of night ; — Dost seek to link fair Scotland's fates With those of treacherous Cathay ? Not here, where clos'd are Mercy's gates And Honour warns away, away — Not here should Scotland's chosen flower Mingle its leaves with villain dust. And idly watch each changing hour The deeds of rapine and of lust. Can thy proud vegetable blood Feed on the soil that bears a slave, Dear Thistle, sign of hardihood. And emblem of the leal and brave ? Thy native place is far away By Caledonia's mountain-rills, 42 THE HANYANG THISTLE. Thy little life should have its day Beneath the shadow of our hills, Back with me to our proper isle, Plant of an heritage divine, I pluck thee from the unworthy soil, It fits not Freedom's name, nor thine ] ^ ^=^ '^^V^'^^^ 3 , ^ iS S THE CAVE OF CAMOENS. The name of Macao is associated with several celebrities, whose fame is more or less known to the world ; of these may be mentioned our own countrymen Morrison the Sinologue, and Chinnery the Painter, and the Portuguese padre, Goncalves, also known for his researches in Chinese literature ; but the one man whose renown is still more splendidly connected with it is Luiz DE Camoens, who wrote here a great part of his immortal poem " Os Lusiades " the Lusiad. This has been well styled the epic poem of commerce ; its sub- ject is the discovery of India by Fasco de Gama; it is supposed to have been commenced in Goa about 1554, and continued in Macao, whither Camoens was shortly afterwards banished, as Ovid to Tomos, * for some offence given to the Authorities. Here he lived for five years, holding an office correspondent to that of Administrator of Intestate Estates with us, and returning to Goa, was wrecked near the river Mekon in Camboja, saving nothing but his life and his poem, which latter he preserved by holding it in his hand above his head as he buffeted the waves in his course to shore ; thus furnishing another parallel to Roman His- tory, in imitation of C^SAR, who similarly secured his famous Commentaries in the Bay of Alexandria. The work has had the high honour of translation into English, * Since penning the above I find that on a previous exile for a similar offence, from Lisbon to Santarem, Camoens himself made the same comparison as I have here suggested. 44 THE CA VE OF CAMOENS. French, Spanish, Italian, Latin, Hebrew, and. possibly other languages. The spot where he used to sit in his hours of composition is still pointed out with pride by the Macaenses, as the cave of Camoens. It was on a summer Sunday afternoon that I persuaded a quaint and very unpoetical friend to accompany me on a visit to the place. After a long and devious course we came upon the matter sought ; it stands on rising groimd, and is formed by two piassive rocks, which seem to have been cleft asunder ; along their top lies a huge bolder of granite, from the upper surface of which a fine view may be enjoyed of the Taipa, the inner Harbour, Lantao, and the far-stretching sea beyond ; below the two rocks is a space which should be termed rather a grotto than a cave, and in the centre is the bust of the poet, placed on a monumental stiTicture, on the sides of which are inscribed six stanzas selected from his poem. The bust has been recently replaced, the one formerly there having disappeared, as we leam from the very neat Latin Alcaics of Sir John Davis, composed in honour of the poet and the place. These have been more than once published, and the Editor of the Chinese Repository in one of his issues gave what he called a translation of them by the Chaplain of the United States Frigate Columbia. It is to be taken for granted that the worthy Chaplain was better versed in theological doctrine than in the laws of metre, and to be regretted that the bull's eye of his liLcerna pedibus was not turned upon the feet of his verse ; and the Editor, if his friend, can only apologize to the Chaplain for the publication, by a frank confession that he was equally ignorant of the iiiles of rhythm. After this animadversion I may be thought bold in presenting my own rendering of the Alcaics mentioned, but thus it runs : JT ERE, mid far rocks where Phoebus pours Through the deep leaves a soften'd ray, Rose where the muse in beauty soars The fire of Camoens' glowing lay. THE CA VE OF CAMOENS. 45 And here of old the poet's form, Song-Ht, in clearest marble shone, And gilded with a sacred charm The grot he lov'd 'ere life was gone. But this have impious hands o'erthrown, Or age, alas ! has wrought its doom ; And now sad silence rules alone These rocks and verdant shades of gloom I Still rests with us his glorious name, Still sound the breathings of his lyre, In these shall live the poet's fame. Nor monument of brass require. Thus virtue reigns ; and aye shall reign Even to the farthest bounds of day ; She holds sepulchral honours vain. And death, and marble's swift decay. A QUATRAIN^ Composed by Chaou Yung, during the reign of Shin Tsung of the Sung Dynasty— A. D. 1068—1085. 'Phe moon that gleams above so bright The Zephyrs that beneath her light O'er the lake gently blow, Breathe into every human breast A sweet calm tranquil sense of rest, That few may truly know. FROM THE YEW HEO SHETEEj or, Didactic Odes for the use of Children. 'Phe hue of a mountain is not to be told By^the traveller who looks on its height from afar, And distance is powerless the name to unfold Though high be the peak, and dark-frowning the scar. TRIFLES FROM THE TARTAR. I.— THK MALADY. 'Phe Mollah came : I pray'd him in kindness to devise A cure for sickness felt within, but hid from human eyes; The Mollah peer'd into my face, and said — What ails ye now ? There's madness in your fiery glance and fever on your brow — Then open'd I my heart to him, and like a plaining dove, I said — oh Mollah ! oh my soul ! alas — I am in love. II.— THE PROPOSAL. _^N home I have rear'd for the light of mine eyes, A mansion unequall'd in splendour and size ; The stairs are all burnish'd and bright to behold, And the corridors gleam with the radiance of gold ; Or, when from thy nest, pretty bird, wilt thou flee To that dwelling that's sacred to love and to thee ? WRITTEN AFTER A TAIFOONG* IN HONGKONG. " The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it Cometh, and whither it goetii."—St. John, iii. 8. " To what great ends subservient is the wind." — Blair. 'YY'hence Cometh the wind ? Is its marvellous birth In the depths of the sea, or the corners of earth ? In the cavern of fiends, or the seat of the blest ? Oh, who shall discover the home of its rest ? Whither goeth the wind ? lo, it sweeps o'er the plain, And scarce is it past ere we feel it again ! All know when it moves — yet the course of its flight Is wrapt in the fathomless shades of the night. * Commonly known as Typhoon, and in Cyclopedias and Dictionaries derived from the Greek. This is quite an error ; the proper form of the word is as given here, and it is com- pounded of two Chinese words, signifying "great wind." Thus lexicology or science distorted the word, and found for it a false origin. 4- so THE TAIFOONG. ' Is it substance? ah, no ! for what sign may be shown, What relic to mark that its being is known ? How haps it that in its mysterious round Nor a proof to be grasped, nor a token is found ? An idea ? a spirit ? then whence may it be That the stamp of its power and its fury we see ? The turret hurl'd down from the battlement's height, And the forest uprooted are marks of its might. Is it evil ? Go — ask of the zephyr that blows All its cherishing warmth o'er the leaves of the rose — Or ask of the favouring breeze that speeds home The mariner's bark thro' the weary sea-foam. Is it good? Alas ! seek the sad wave-stricken shores. Where howls the taifoong, or the hurricane roars. When a moment has scatter'd the riches of years, And the death-shriek is lost in the groans of the spheres. It comes from The Great One, and flies back again To Him who alone shall its madness restrain, To God, who controls it, or bids it go free To hold the wild revel o'er earth and o'er sea. He rules the dark wind in His palm — at His will It is gentle for good, or it rages for ill — He looses the zephyr — at His potent word The blast of the ruthless tornado is heard. THE TAIFOONG. 51 'Tis a myst'ry more sacred and pure than the lore And the dreams of the sages of earth shall explore, For not unto man hath it ever been given To learn the inscrutable secrets of Heaven ! 4—3 HORACE^ CARM. I. 31, IMITATED : On the Occasion of the Foundation of St. John's Cathedral, Victoria, Hongkong, 11th March, 1847. ■\Yhat asks the poet of his God, To whom this church we dedicate ? What prays he for as neath the sod The corner-stone is laid in state ? He asks not for the teeming fields That Devon's fruitful county yields, Nor for the herbage-cropping steers That Leicester in its pastures rears, Not ivory carved by Seric hands He seeks, nor gold, and not the lands That with his gently gliding wave Old father Thames delights to lave. Let those to whom their lot may grant To cultivate the Kentish plant THE FOUNDING OF THE CATHEDRAL. 53 Toil on, and let the merchant drain From golden cups the costly wine, That China's traffic, rich in gain, Commands upon his board to shine — Surely Heaven's favourite is he. For that unharmed of ruthless winds. Through the Indian and Atlantic sea Each year that coast his vessel finds — For me I'll live on humble fare And what thy bounty may prepare. But great Creator, hear my prayer, And grant me healthful mind ! And when at last old age comes round, Oh God ! let me not then be found With broken powers and frame unsound, Unhonoured of my kind ! THE SUN OF HONGKONG. Hunc tu caveto. Hm-ace. ' ' Oh, mother, weeping over thy departing boy about to en- counter the dangers of that unknown dime, persuade him, com- mand him as he loves life and home to shrink from that sun as from a taming and untameable foe. " How many a one have I known in the pride of vigour and consciousness of manly power smilingly despise the warning thus seriously given — The sun hurt him ! nonsense — has he not often ridden in the meridian blaze to sit at the feet of the Colonel's daughter in SikeraguUy, or been out in the full glare of day shooting snipe through the open paddy-grounds of Wussemor- I i.id ? Did the sun of India, rage as it might, ever affect him ? Was he ever sick or fearful of the sun during a long sojourn in Mauritius or Trinidad ? " So be it — but, cxpcrto crcdc Roberto^ belie\'e an experience of many yeais, there is something peculiar in the Sun of Hong- kong — Observe the careless in this matter, and what is too often the result ? — It may be that like the child of the Shunammite he feels pained about the head, — or he experiences a sickness at the stomach — he is rallied for looking perhaps flushed, perhaps pale — his brain may be touched, or his liver affected — it may be that unable to account for his depression he has resort to a stimulant, or faintly conscious of his danger he retires and seeks medical advice — or, again, it may be, as I have known it more than once, that he is struck down suddenly on the hill-side and borne home THE SUN OF HONGKONG. 55 in others', aims, his heavy stertorous breathing the sole index to life !— "But whatever the mode in which the fatal stroke be dealt, there he lies on the bed from which he rose in health this morn- ing, motionless, insensate, dead — and there group his friends around, gazing in the sorrow of silence on his quickly fading form, and shaping variously to their inward selves the fact, un- doubted at last, that the final life-scene is finished, and that he has fallen before the enemy that could never hurt him. " Now stand aside there and throw back the curtain — let the garish beams of day fall full upon that couch — ^let the rutilant rays of that branding sun flicker in triumph over the corpse — ^let them dance tremulously on the blackening features — what matters it? it don't hurt him — ^true at last — it does not hurt him — not now /" J AM the Sun of Hongkong — Who is there that knows not my power ? When I dart forth my rays I set brains in a blaze, And then mortals dread the death-hour. They sicken, they fall, and they die. No skill can their being prolong. And I laugh in my heart, As I watch their vain art. For I am the Sun of Hongkong ! What sword shall be put in their hands ? What armour the fated ones wear ? No armour — no sword — Shall a refuge afford, When I in my might shall appear. 56 THE SUN OF HONGKONG. Let them bow to my death dealing stroke, Can the weak hope to baffle the strong ? Let them throw down the shield And prepare them to yield, Ay— yield to the Sun of Hongkong ! And when in the earth they are laid, And hushed their wails and their groans, Rich banquet the worms Shall have on their forms. And house in their marrowless bones ; And the beetle shall clatter his wing. And drone forth the funeral song. And in triumph I'll wave My beams o'er the grave. The beams of the Sun of Hongkong ! LINES WRITTEN ON A SICK BED IN HONGKONG. 'YY^HY sing me no sweet songs to-day, Dull bird, from yon old leafless bough ? All nature 'neath the sun's bright ray Is glad, and why not thou ? Is it that thy maternal breast Sorrows to know thy younglings torn Rudely from out their secret nest Within the sheltering thorn ? Or is it that the fowler's gun Has scared thee with a harsh affright ? Say, whence the cause, thou voiceless one, Thy notes no more delight ? Remember 'tis an ancient say, And I but speak it for thy good, That he who sings not when he may Shall sing not when he would.* * He that wold not when he mighte He shall not when he wold-a — The Baffled knight — old ballad. — (See Percy Reliques). 58 ON A SICK-BED IN HONGKONG, Still silent ! let me fancy why — Mayhap the land is not thine own, And thou from some more genial sky Fate-borne art hither flown. Ha, dost thou roll the conscious eye ? Do I thine inward grief divine ? With thee and me dwells sympathy, Sad bird, thy care is mine ! I cannot sing in foreign clime — Slave to the unchanging heart's command. My tuneless tongue but ill can rhyme Far from my native land. I would not hear thee sing again, Sweet bird, the songs that made me glad, Kind memory brings a soothing pain, And bids my soul be sad. 1850. GOD'S ACRE. Death rides in every passing breeze He lurks in every flower ; Each season has its own disease, Its peril every hour ! Our eyes have seen the rosy light Of youth's soft cheek decay, And fate descend in sudden night On manhood's middle day. ***** Turn, mortal, turn, thy danger know, Where'er thy foot can tread, The earth rings hollow from below. And warns thee of her dead ! Heber. " ' I LIKE,' says Longfellow, ' the ancient Saxon phrase that calls the Burial Ground ' God's Acre,' and it is of our God's Acre in the valley of the Wongnaichong that I am thinking now ; that spot to which, sometimes with the Dead March in Saul sounding in my ears, sometimes in solemn silence, as sacred, as impressive, I have so frequently accompanied the slow fimeral procession that paid the last honours to some valued friend, snatched from us on earth, and ' taken ' In his fair and glorious prime.' 6o GOB'S AC-RE. " Vet the subject is no new one, and the less so to a hardened inhabitant of the Colony. 'Tis no wonder,' says Lucian of Samosata, 'if being man, I died.' 'We and ours are due to death,' said one before him, but why seek to prove the common truism ? — no need to go to Greek or Roman, Poet or Philosopher, to be told the old, old story that men are dying around us every day. ' ' The peculiarity of Death amongst us in Hongkong is its frequency considered with reference to the comparative scantiness of the European population, and still more the fad of that popu- lation being either yuung or in the full strength of manhood, for th'. Ncstors in our camp are few. * * * * » "But not mine the intention to homilize over 'the sacred store-house ' — and still, still less to bid cry with plump and graceless Jack over the wine-cup at East Cheap, ' Do not speak like a death's head, do not bid me remember mine end.' — " There lie so many in the Wongnaichong with whom I have eaten and drunk, and lived and journeyed, been gi'ave and merry, and read and wrought, that my pen will linger over the memory of what has been and shall be no more. " One lies there* in his 'wormy bed' who travelled hither wdth me, and young, hopeful, loving and earnest, thought the world at his feet. Things moved LA-ccesshdly and his affianced joined him. His, little more than two years of wedded happiness — matrimony — paternity — and then ' God's finger touched him and he slept' — "And another, t than for « horn no purer sorrow ever welled up in human breast, or pour'd its unchecked course from human eye- - ' ' Aye, the young and old lie there ! the sturdily working father and the mother's feeble frame — the bride but shortly landed on the shore — the prosperous man late planning a return to tlie early home where loving arms are vainly stretched to fold him — the old sailor whose thin thread of life would hold no longer — * See the Sonnet, t Sue the Stanzas. GOD'S ACRE. 6 1 the young soldier stricken and shattered in his worli of duty — tlie learned in the healing art, powerless to heal himself — the trader, having piled his treasures and left them to his heir — the basely murdered, and more basely slandered after death — the little child too tender for life's battle in a land like this — the debauched driveller that abused God's gifts to his own hurt — the strong man called from a generous pastime in his pride of power and fulness of lustihood — and that singular scholar who passed from his missions, his manuscripts, and his monies, n paradox and a mystery to all." SONNET ON J. P., BURIED IN THE AATONG- NAICHONG. T KNEW him when his honest soul was sway'd By one chief ruling power — that power was love — I saw him when in sight of God above With her the sacred, solemn vow was made That bound them to each other^I survey'd With a friend's joy the perfect happiness That shone around his daily path of bliss ; And then — I watch'd him in the grave-yard laid ! And as I strew'd the dust upon his bier, Through me the shock of conscious frailty ran, And I could not repress the rising tear, For since, methought, when first his life began, How short the time until Death stretch'd him here ! Oh, in thy mercy. Lord, do thou remember man ! Dec, 1847. 62 GOnS ACRE. STANZAS ON ONE BURIED IN THE WONG- NAICHONG CEMETERY. TyEEP not for her — for she is gone Unto a holier, happier land, Where angels round the heavenly throne Enrol her of their sacred band ; Where all with radiant smiles is bright, And every tear-drop chas'd away, There in the flood of living light 'Tis hers thro' bowers of bliss to stray — Weep not for her — though she has left The friends that saw and lov'd her worth, And think not of her as bereft Of all the joys she knew on earth ; Earth has no j oys to mete with those That now are hers in realms above, She wins, in place of earthly woes. The earnest of a father's love — Weep not for her — but rather strive To follow in the path she trod, So may thy soul at death revive Within the bosom of thy God. — Then be this end thy constant care, Nor still the glorious course defer. And thus shalt thou hereafter share Her bliss — but, oh, weep not for her ! June, 1 85 2. "HODIE MIHI, CMS TIBI/' INSCRIBED OVER THE GATE-WAY OF A BURIAL GROUND IN HONGKONG. "The mystic scroll above his head Is seen by each one passing by, And some, in gentle lore unread. May mark the line, unknowing why — Pause whosoe'er thou art, tho' late. Yet late, a wholesome thought to borrow From the words big with human fate, To-day for me— -for thee to-morrow ! For thee, as who his hidden lot Shall tell in this unequal clime ? Where now we are — and now are not ! Haply for thee, before thy time — Man ! take it to that heart of thine, Warning alike in joy and sorrow ; Act, act upon the solemn sign, To-day for me— for thee to-morrow ! 1856. THE TEA BALLAD. I here endeavour to serve up in an Engliph dress a Ballad " on picking Tea in the Gardens in spring time, " of vf hich the origi- nal was obtained by a writer in the Chinese Repository (August 1S39) from one of the traders fi'om the Green Tea country. It was prettily printed on a square piece of paper with a flowered red border. It consists of thirty Stanzas, each of which, in the original a single column, is composed of four lines, the first, second, and fourth of which rhyme with each other, and each line contains seven A\"ords. These points I have put aside, and used roughly enough our Ballad Stanza ; but the piece lays no claim to any merit beyond simplicity. "\iyHERE thousand hills the vale enclose, Our little hut is there, And on the sloping sides around The tea grows everyivhere ; And I must rise at early dawn As doth the busy bee, To get my daily labour done, And pluck the leafy tea. THE TEA BALLAD. 65 At early dawn I seize my crate, And sighing, oh, for rest, Through the thick mist I pass the door With sloven hair half-drest ; The dames and maidens call to me. As hand in hand they go, What steep do you. Miss, climb to-day ? What steep of high Sunglo ? III. Dark is the sky — the dusky light Still on the hills is set. The dewy leaves and cloudy buds May not be gather'd yet ; Oh, who are they, the thirsty ones. For whom this work we do — For whom we sweat our daily toil In bands of two and two ? Like fellows we each other aid And to each other say — As down we pull the yielding twigs — Sweet sister, don't delay ; For now the buds are growing old Even on the boughs a top, And then to-morrow- — who can tell ? The drizzling rain may drop. 66 THE TEA BALLAD. V. We've pick'd enow— the topmost bough Is bare of leaves, and so, We Uft our brimming baskets, and By the homeward path we go ; In merry laughter by the pool. The lotus pool we hie, When hark ! up rise the mallard pair And away in fright they fly! Limpid and clear the pool, and there How broad the lotus grows ! And only half its little leaves Round as the coins it shows — I bend me o'er the jutting brink And to myself I say, I marvel in the glassy stream How looks my face to-day ? My face is dirty — out of curl INIy hair is, and awry — Oh, tell me where's the little girl So ugly now as I ? And it's all because whole weary hours I'm forc'd to pick the tea. And the driving winds and soaking showers Have made me what you see. THE TEA BALLAD. 67 VIII. With morn again come wind and rain, And though so fierce and strong, With my basket big and little hat I wend my way along — And home once more when the leaves are pick'd, • And everybody sees How muddy all our dresses are And dabbled to the knees ! IX. I saw this morning thro' the door A pleasant day set in — Be sure I quickly dress'd my hair. And neatly fix'd my pin ; And featly sped I down the path To gain the wonted spot, But never thinking of the mire, My working shoes forgot. X. The gardens reach'd — my bow-shap'd shoes Are soaking through and through — And the sky is chang'd — -the thunder rolls — And I don't know what to do — I'll call my comrades on the hill To pass the word with speed, And fetch my green umbrella hat To help me in my need. 5—2 68 THE TEA BALLAD. XI.. But my little hat does little good, My plight is very sad, I stand with clothes all dripping wet, Like some poor fisher-lad ! Like him I have a basket too Of meshes woven fine, I'm the fisher-lad if I only had His fishing-rod and line. XII. The rain is o'er — the outer leaves Their grassy fibres show \ Shake down the branch and the fragrant scent About us 'gins to blow ; Gather the yellow golden threads That high and low are found — Ah ! what a precious odour now . Is wafted all around ! XIII. No sweeter perfume does the wild And fair Aglaia shed. Throughout all Wooyiien my tea The choicest will be said. When all are pick'd we'll leave the shoots To bud again in spring. But for this morning we have done The last third gathering. THE TEA BALLAD. 69 XIV. Oh, weary is our picking, yet Do I my toil withhold ? My maiden curls are all askew, My pearly fingers cold. Only our tea I wish to be Superior over all, O'er this man's sparrow-tongue, and o'er That other's dragon-ball.* Oh, for a month I weary To find a leisure day ; ' I go to pick at early dawn. And unto dusk I stay. At the firing pan till midnight, ' I hold my irksome place : But may not labour hard as this Ruin my pretty face ? XVI. But if my face be somewhat lank, More firm shall be my mind, I'll fire my tea, that all shall be My golden buds behind ! And yet the thought arises, who Shall the pretty maiden be To put the leaves in her jewell'd cup. From that cup to drink my tea ? Two particular kinds of tea-leaves, known in the district. 70 THE TEA BALLAD. XVII. Her griefs all flee, as she makes the tea, And she is glad, but, oh ! Whence shall she learn the toils of us Who labour for her so ? And shall she know of the winds that blow And the rains that pour their wrath. And drench and soak us through as tho' We were plunged into a bath ? XVIII. In driving rains and howling winds The birds forsake the nest, Yet many a loving pair are seen Even on the boughs to rest ; Oh ! wherefore, loved one, with light look Didst thou drive me away ? I cannot, grieving as I grieve, AVork my d !e work to-day. XIX. But though my bosom rise and fall, Like bucket in a well, Patient and toiling as I am. My care I'll never tell. My thoughts shall be to have my tea Fired to a tender brown. And to get the flag and the awl* well-roU'd And show their whiten'd down. * The C. R. contributor in explanation of these terms has THE TEA BALLAD. 71 XX. Ha, for my toil ! ho ! for my steps — Aweary though I be, In our poor house for working folk There's lots of work, I see — When the firing and the drying's done Off at the call I go— And once again this very mom I climb the high Sunglo. XXI. My wicker basket slung in arm, And my hair entwin'd with flowers. To the slopes I go of the high Sunglo, And pick the tea for hours- How laugh we, sister, on the road ! What a merry turn we've got ! I giggle and say — as I point down the way — There — look — there lies our cot. Yes, masters, in the sweet green shade Your humble maid abides. And the weeping willow droops above And the grassy dwelling hides ; given this note : — " The /Iffl or 'flag' is the term by which tlie leaflets are called, when they just begin to unrol ; the tseang or ' awl' designates those leaves which are still wrapp'd up, and some- what sharp." THE TEA BALLAD. To-morrow, if you wish it so, My guests I beg you'll be, The 'door you'll know by the fragrant scent, The scent of the firing tea. A while 'tis cold — and then 'tis warm — ^Vhen I want to fire my tea. The sky is sure to shift and change And all to worry me ! When the sun goes down o'er the western hills On the eastern there is rain, And however fair he promises, His promises are vain. XXIV. To-day the tint of the western hills Is looking bright and fair, And I bear my crate to the stile* and wait My fellow-toiler there — A little tender lass is she. She leans upon the rail. And sleeps, and tho' I hail her She answers not my hail. * The tin;^ is not exactly a stile, being a kind of shed, or four ])osts supporting a roof, which is often erected by tlie villager^ for the convenience of wayfarers. THE TEA BALLAD. 73 I call again — with eyes half oped She gazes down the road, And staggers oddly to and fro, Like one beneath a load ; Up starts she, quite bewildered, And along the path she's gone, She brings her basket, but forgets To put the cover on. XXVI. Together trudge we, and we pass The lodge of the southern bowers. Where the beautiful sea-pomegranate Waves all its yellow flowers, Fain would we stop and pluck a few To deck our tresses gay. But the tree is high, and it's vain to try To reach the tempting spray. The pretty birds upon the bough 1 Sing songs so sweet to hear, And the sky is so delicious now Half cloudy and half clear, While bending o'er our work, each maid Will prattle of her woe, And we talk till our hearts are sorely hurt And tears begin to flow. 74 THE TEA BALLAD. Our time is done, and yet not full Our baskets to the mouth — The twigs a-north are throughly search'd, Let's seek them in the south — Hei yah ! just then I snapp'd a twig Whose leaves grew sweet a-pair — See with my taper fingers I fix it in my hair. XXIX. Oh, various are the kinds of tea There's bitter and there's sweet ; Whoever has a fancy, For him I'll find a treat ! But who it is shall drink them. As bitter or sweet they be, I know not, friend, but the pearly end Of my fingers only see ! Ye, twitt'ring swallows, rise and fall In your flight around the hill — But when next I go to the high Sunglo, I'll have a new gown — I will — And I'll roll up the cuff And show arm enough, For my arm is fair to see, Oh, if ever there were a beautiful arm, THE TEA BALLAD. 75 If ever a round and slender arm, That arm belongs to me — Heiglio ! That arm belongs to me ! Written by Le Yih-tsing, also called Yih-hing, a. native of Hae-yang. ^»fW^ o ,(■- PROLOGUE To the Hongkong Garrison Amateur Theatricals, on behalf of the widowrs of the soldiers of H.M.'s 95th Reglnent, -who died during the summer of 1848.* CiNCE the true children of the Thespian art Hold that a prologue acts a useful part, And may with all propriety be made Even f/ieir experience and t/mr skill to aid, We wretched amateurs may seek indeed A like assistance in the hour of need ; Ere then this curtain we presume to raise And show our scenes to your expectant gaze. To you, fair ladies, — gentlemen, to you, I fain would say a simple word or two. When from our home with all its pleasures torn, Say, have we nothing left us but to mourn ? Because our lot is cast on this rude isle. Shall gloom possess us and forbid to smile ? Spoken on 25th of March, i8 PROLOGUE. 77 No — if we yield to melancholy's reign, We ne'er deserve to see that home again ; Perish the thought then ! and in care's despite Let us be cheerful for at least to-night But be indulgent, friends, we know you'll find How many faults ! oh, to those faults be kind ! Your criticisms for pity's sake forbear. Praise our few hits, and all our failings spare, Thus the same mercy that to us you give. May you in turn, when plac'd like us receive. If yoTl should chance the mantling blush to trace Marring the scowl of some grim hero's face ; Or should his tongue his nerveless state betray, Withhold your laughter — 'tis his first essay — Or should the voices of our ladies prove Too hoarse to lisp the tender notes of love — Not theirs the fault — oh, then, repress the sneer — Stolberg's voice lozenges are not sold here. But above all, we have a right to ask Your kind forbearance in our arduous task. In that we come not here i' the hope of gain. Nor that our minds — God save the mark ! — are vain, Our humble efforts boast a higher source. Of which your hearts, good friends, will own the force, We act to-night from each mean motive free, And in the sacred cause of charity ! EPILOGUE To the Hongkong Garrison Amateur Theatricals on tlie Departure of the 95tli Regiment for Kng- land.* (^OOD friends, though Epilogues are out of date, And our Colonial muse but second-rate, Still to go hence -without one word to you. One wish at parting, or one fond adieu, ^Vere graceless — and we would not so be thought For all the cloth from looms of England brought, For all the herb grown in celestial fields, Or all the gold that California yields. A year is gone since first we strove to gain Your kind applause — nor did we strive in vain — Our trembling actors often ere to-night Have dra^vn new confidence from your dehght. * Spoken 25th Febraary, 1850. EPILOGUE. 79 Have heard th' approval of your kidded palms, And risen superior to their nervous qualms ; Oft when we plum'd the bold but feeble wing For drama— comedy — or anything — You gave applause to help us o'er the stile, And, where you could not laugh, vouchsaf'd to smile: For this our warmest thanks are justly due. Ladies and gentlemen — and given — to you. Not now your future kindness to implore We speak, nor hope for favours yet in store ; Fate and the Horse-Guards, to whose power we bow, Have given the word, and we must quit you now, Must quit you with the wish that you may find In those gay warriors that we leave behind Friends ready as our humble selves to show They prize the sweet rewards that you bestow, And better able on the Thespian cart " To w;ake the soul by tender strokes of art," Or raise the laugh that speaks the cheerful heart ! And now for home ! the bark,* those friends that_bore Safely — though slowly — to this farthest shore. Now spreads aloft for us the swelling sail, And woos — for luck must change — the fav'ring gale, Ready to cleave thro' ocean's yielding foam Her welcome voyage to our English home, Our home that has a charm all charms above. And holds its place the firmest in our love, * H.M.S. "Apollo." 8o EPILOGUE. Our home, to thoughts of which such powers belong That they can cheer an exile in Hongkong ! Oh, be it yours, and at no distant time To bend your steps to that more genial clime, There — should kind Fortune give the chance again, AVe'll meet with pleasure, as we part with pain. UNDER THE PEAK. II. PROMISCUA. THE POWER OF LOVEj OR, THK SHKPHERD'S DECISION. (Unaque cum regnum, belli daret altera laudem, Tyndaridis conjux tertia dixit eriii — Ovid, Heroid: xvii. Ii8, ' ARGUMENT. At the maniage of Peleus and Thetis the goddess of Dis- cord, who had not been invited to partake of the entertainment, showed her displeasure by throwing into an assembly of the gods who were celebrating the nuptials a golden apple on which were written the words " Detur pulchriori" — All the goddesses claimed it as their own ; the contention at first became general, but at last only three — ^Jimo, Venus, and Minerva — vrished to dispute their respective rights to beauty. The gods unwilling to become arbiters in an affair of so tender and delicate a nature appointed Paris to adjudge the prize of beauty to the fairest of the goddesses, and indeed the shepherd seemed properly qualified to decide the contest, as his wisdom was so well established and his taste and prudence so well known. The goddesses appeared before their judge without any covering or ornament, and each tried by promises to gain the attention of Paris, and to influence his judgment — Jimo promised him a kingdom, Minerva military glory, and Venus the fairest woman in the world for his wife. After he had heard their several claims and promises Paris ad- judged the prize to Venus, and gave her the golden apple, to which perhaps she seemed entitled as the goddess of beauty, &c. , &c., &c. Vide Lemp. Class. Diet, sub voce " Paris. " 6—2 84 THE POWER OF LOVE. ^^'hen immortal beauty open'd All its grace to mortal sight. AytozLfCs Buried Flcnucr. Qn the mountain's height, neath the clear blue sky "W'hat witching group invites mine eye ? What fairy forms are those that now Stand upon Ida's shaded brow ? No Tyrian robes, no purple vests Are girt about their snowy breasts, No garments of more generous kind Shield them from the rustling wind. And round their slender waists no zone Of bashful modesty is thrown — ^\'hat mortal eye on a lovelier band Hath ever chanced to rest ? Each by her look of proud command A goddess is confest ; And goddesses in truth were they A\'ho sought the Idaean hills that day — But who is she, The foremost of the company ? See ye not the stately grace And dignity that shrouds her face — Well I know her noble mien, 'Tis Juno, Great Olympus' queen, THE POWER OF LOVE. 85 The ruler of the realms above, The spouse of sceptre-bearing Jove ! And whose the dauntless form That speaks the battle storm ? Mark it — mark it well, and say Tells it not of the savage fray ! Of faulchion keen and scythed car, Destroying implements of war ? Oh, who is she that takes delight In the rude combat and the deadly fight ? 'Tis Pallas, she who when the head was riven Of Saturn's labouring son was born to heaven ! And who the last ? The ambrosial odor that is cast From her long dishevell'd hair Speaks the inhabitant of upper air — Those tresses falling loose behind And gently fluttering in the wind — The chisell'd arm — the marbl'd side — The bosom heaving in her beauty's pride — The sparkling eye that throws its lustre round — The tiny foot that scarcely prints the ground — The unbuskin'd leg — the polish'd thigh — all prove 'Tis Cyprian Venus, Queen of love ! — What do they there, Those heavenly fair ? Why leave the bright Immortal seat. To visit Ida's lone retreat ? 6 THE POWER OF LOVE. Why shun the company of Gods ? Why seek these mountainous abodes ? And why with winning looks and coy Stand they before that blushing boy ? 11. Xnnc est bibendum, nunc pede libero Pulsanda tellus — Horace. 'T^wAS at the marriage feast when Peleus led The sea-born Thetis to the nuptial bed, Within the bridal halls th' Immortals join In the swift dance and thread the mazy line ; The King of heaven and his sister Queen Mix with the throng and grace the mirthful scene. And all the godlike guests that night are gay, Resolv'd like gods to drive dull care away. Here peals of laughter loud prevail Where old Silenus tells the tale How Bacchus once with nectar ripe Tried at the pump to light his pipe, And Bacchus in his turn declares He's seen his daddy fall down stairs, Lay on the stony step his head And praise the softness of the bed ! There crowds of wond'ring gods admire As Phoebus sweeps the sounding lyre, And roll the tender notes along THE PO WER OF LO VE. 87 Where Erato pours forth her song ; Now gallant Mars with winning glance Invites Idalia to the dance, Old Saturn claims Minerva's hand, Terpsichore directs the band ; Fresh numbers flock from every side. And down the Parian floor they glide. They leap — they spring — they beat the ground — Responsive to the music's sound. None deigns a moment's rest to court. But stUl pursues the stirring sport — III. The abominable that uninvited came Into the fair Peleian Banquet hall And cast the golden fruit upon the board- Tennyson. "^HOSE furious eye Is seen to pry Upon the merry company ? Who in yon portal's darksome shade Her secret lurking place has made ? Her ghastly look — -her garment torn — The dagger in her bosom borne — It is — it is — I see it all — Who knows what danger may befall ? 'Tis Discord — loathsome to the sight — Foul hideous daughter of the night — 88 THE POWER OF LOVE. Of all the Immortals she hath been Alone unbidden to the festive scene ! See — round her vengeful head The hissing serpent's coil is spread, Gods, how my aching heart doth bleed ! She meditates some fearful deed ! What holds she in her hand ? Is it a snake, whose venom'd tongue. Shall dart dismay yon group among, Or noxious poison to be flung Amid the laughing band ? Her arm is lifted — she has thrown The deadly weapon — she is gone — Nor stays with foes to grapple — Lo ! Mars has rais'd that missile dread And holds it high above his head, 'Tis but an apple ! — An apple, doubtless for the bride. But upon its mellow side What characters are trac'd ? Great God of war, appease the crowd. And read the mystic words aloud, Read them — aye — read in haste — The God obeyed — oh, then, I ween, A wondrous change came o'er the scene, No nuptial song was graven there, . No blessing on the wedded pair. No poesy, nor oratory, 'Twas simply " Detur pulchriori." THE POWER OF LOVE. 89 IV. But disputes sic as aft arise Fell oot in sharin' o' the prize. Allan Ramsay. " ''pis mine !" the vain Minerva cries, " 'Tis mine !" the Queen of heaven replies, Quoth Venus, " It is mine alone, " As Queen of Beauty I am known ;" Diana flaunts in high disdain. Young Hebe strives the award to gain, And all the heavenly host begin To raise a most ungodlike din ; But Momus stalks amongst the fair, Puts on a mock judicial air, And " Silence in the court," says he, " Let all attend to my decree ; " Women, withdraw, ye graceless crew, " The prize belongs to none of you ; " Make way — ^behind ye stands a youth " So very modest, that forsooth, " He will not claim his due ! " Observe his skin of snowy white, " His form so slender, eye so bright, " Does any one my judgment call " Erroneous ? speak — ^what ! silent all ? " Let Vulcan then the apple have^ — " Provided he gohome and shave !" 90 THE POWER OF LOVE. Loud roars of merry laughter broke From all the throng as Momus spoke, And Vulcan, boiling o'er with wrath, AVent limping on his homeward path — But still the storm had not blown o'er. It soon waxed fiercer than before, Tin Jove at length uprais'd his voice. And cried : " Stop that disgraceful noise, " Minerva, silence, hold your peace, " Hush Venus ! — Wife, your jabbering cease, " Or I'll impale ye on the spot, " Say, am I king of heaven or not ? " Hand me the fruit — wait — let me see — " Ha ! by my beard it seems to be " Intended for my private feast — " (Here Juno mutter'd " ugly beast") — " But still I'll not be over-hard, " So as 'tis mine to give the award, " Stand forth in order, rival belles, " I'll give the palm where justice tells." V. I can't advise, upon my soul I can't. — BombastiS Fiirioso. T^HOSE m.ighty three were all that stood In strifeful row before the God ; The rest from the ordeal shrunk, They were not favourites at Court, And said moreover Jove was drunk, And of the whole affair made sport ; THE POWER OF LOVE. 91 There then they stood, those godlike three, Arrayed in all their majesty ! First Venus 'gins with soft persuasion, Then Juno tries intimidation. She darts a look, as if to say, " Give me the prize, or rue the day,'' While Pallas openly avers If the prize be not quickly hers. As once before she split his brain. So by the Styx, she'll do't again. Jove now begins too late to see He's fixed himself unpleasantly ; Truth doubtless whispers in his ear ' That Venus should the trophy bear, But Pallas can give plaguy knocks. And Juno's lately learnt to box ; So after musing for a while, Endeav'ring some device to find, He smooths his features with a smile, And thus declares his godlike mind : " Oh, ladies, 'tis no task of ease " The fairest form to single out, " Though one of you I'm sure to please, " The other two are sure to pout ; " But hold — a plan I think I've hit " To meet your wishes — say shall I " In pieces three the apple slit " And give to each of ye a bit ?" — " The whole or nothing," is the cry — 92 THE POWER OF LOVE. " Well, then, that no one may owe me a grudge " I'll hand ye over to another judge — " On Ida's hill not far from Troy " There dwells a royal shepherd boy, " Well skill'd, as men report, to trace " The beauty of the female face ; " Amongst the laughing nymphs that dwell " On river's bank, or flowery dell, " His word has long been Beauty's guide, " This contest then let him decide ; " Enough, begone, 'tis my decree " That Paris shall the umpire be." 'Twas hence those rival three were led To visit Ida's leafy head, Hence 'twas with winning looks and coy They stood before that shepherd boy. VI. That not to be corrupted is the shame. — Pope. J^ARD by the base of yon huge rock All heedless of his browzing flock. Young Paris sits and cons with care The beauties of those heavenly fair ; At first he seem'd to shrink with awe Soon as each naked form he saw. And o'er his face the blushing red Of modesty was deeply spread, THE POWER OF LOVE. 93 But now recover'd from the amaze He 'gins with bolder eye to gaze, And (for he was of easy mind, Rather to forwardness inclin'd, One of your reckless dashing sparks) He thus commences his remarks — " Such charms as these I've rarely seen ; " Pallas, I like your haughty mien, " Juno, I swear you've splendid eyes, " And Venus, yours are taper thighs. " You all are beautiful, but ere I " Decide upon this case, I crave " Your answers to one simple query, " Pray — what reward am I to have ? " I'm not of the fastidious tribe " But open to receive a bribe, " Speak then in turn and let me know " What each is willing to bestow." VII. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power. — Gray. piRST Juno Steps from forth the band And with an air of proud command In eager hope to guide the choice. Raises aloft her royal voice : — "Yes, Paris, 'tis the Thund'rer's queen " 'Tis Juno's self thine eyes have seen, , 94 THE POWER OF LOVE. " Not often I converse with men, " Or come within a mortal's ken, " Yet now I've left my dread abode " And this high favour have bestow'd " On thee that thou mayst grant my suit " And let me grasp the wish'd-for fruit. " But not the sight of form divine "Alone, my Paris, shall be thine; " Oh then give ear, while I proclaim " The honours that await thy name — " No longer slialt thou tend these flocks " That browze beneath the beetling rocks, " No longer shall beneath the shade " To awkward nymphs thy pipe be played, " No longer with the boorish throng " Shalt thou enjoy the vulgar song, " Small fame such rude companions bring, " My Paris ! thou shalt be a king ! — " Far and wide shall be thy sway, " Millions shall thy power obey, " The high, the rich, the proud, the great " Crowd around thy palace-gate, " Princes on the bended knee " Pay the homage due to thee, " Noble ladies to thy court " In their loyalty resort, "And at thy benign command " Stoop to kiss thy sceptr'd hand — THE POWER OF LOVE. 95 " Gods ! methinks I see thee now " With the crown above thy brow, " And the diamond's lustre shed " Bright around thy kingly head ; " There — upon thy throne elate, " In the pride of regal state, " High-bom dames and fair before thee " Subjects ready to adore thee, " There thou look'st with flashing eye " On that brilliant company ! — " Say, my shepherd, is not this • " The very full of earthly bHss ? " And such the fate prepared for thee, " If thou give the prize to me !" VIII. Arma virumque. — Virgil. 'pHE goddess ended her address. When Pallas hopeful of success Thus loftily bespoke the swain. And strove his wav'ring mind to gain : " Oh ! what avails a crown, my son, " If not in deadly combat won ? " What honour lies in kingly chair •' If ^martial glory be not there ? — " Thy meanest subject will deride " Thy gorgeous pomp and regal pride, 96 THE POWER OF LOVE. " If fame of deeds acliiev'd in war, " Like a halo-casting star, " Pour not forth its spendour round " Thy brow with sparkling jewels bound ; " A peace-thron'd king I would not be " For all the wealth of Araby ; " Far other fortune shall be thine, " If thou grant the fruit be mine. " I see thee on the battle-plain " Raging mid the heaps of slain ! " Lo ! thy fury-darting eye " Hails the fray nor fears to die ! " Well it speaks the stem delight " Which thou foundest in the fight ! " I see thee urge thy panting horse, " Check yon squadron's frantic force, " Rush upon the forward foe " Bearing man and charger low ! — " Ha, the adverse armies reel " And thy blood-besprinkl'd steel " In the foeman's bosom thrust " Hurls him bleeding in the dust ; " Again thy blade is brandish'd high " And another learns to die, " Again — again — thy conqu'ring path " Is strewn with victims of thy wrath, " And all retreat in dread alarm " From thy slaughter-dealing arm. " The fight is done ! THE PO WER OF LO VE. 97 " And victory hails her favour'd son ; ' ' " Let the warlike music sound, " Chaunt the grateful song, " The conqueror from the battle-ground " Proudly moves along ; " Raise the high triumphal arch, " Deck it with the foeman's spoil, " Let the envied Paris march " 'Neath the trophy of his toil ; " Let the millions he has saved " With his praises rend the air, " Tell the dangers he has braved, " And the laurel wreath prepare ; " Let every voice aloud proclaim " To Heaven and Earth the warrior's fame !" IX. For Love shall still be Lord of all. Scott. 'P'hus Pallas said — each glowing word With listless ear the youth had heard. But soon as Venus 'gan to speak. Bright was his eye and fiush'd his cheek : " What is Life unblest of Love ? " 'Tis a dreary pilgrimage, " Reft of the joy all joys above " 'Tis a wide blank upon creation's page, " 'Tis a spacious palace, where 7 98 THE POWER OF LOVE. " The walls are ruin'd and the chambers bare, " 'Tis the canvas on whose face " The painter has delay'd to trace " Those glorious efforts of his art " That would have spoken to the heart ; " Scom'd by even the brutal kind, " Lying neath my withering ban, " 'Tis the slavery of the mind, " A state unworthy man ! " The sceptred king " Is a mean and abject thing " If his bosom invious prove " To the force of gentle love ; " The warrior bold, " If love no influence o'er him hold, " Stead of envy of his deeds " Pity's smile the rather needs. " Not such, my Paris, shalt thou be, " Not thine such splendid misery — " Round thee is my magic thrown — " The Queen of Love has mark'd thee for her own ! " From ancient Sparta's palace-halls " Hark, the voice of beauty calls ! " Love's low murmurings meet mine ear, " Wafted o'er the Ocean-spray, " These the whisper'd sounds I hear, " ' Dearest Paris ! come away !' " Wouldst thou know the lips that move " To the mystic power of Love ? THE PO WER OF LO VE. " Wouldst know what peerless one I see " Fondly calling upon thee ? " There on yonder couch of gold " Carelessly reclines the dame, " She whom secret love has told " Sweetly to breathe forth thy name ; " No offspring of the sons of earth, " Her look declares her heavenly birth, " 'Twas Jove himself in Leda's arms " That stamp'd those soul-subduing charms : " Something there is in that fair face " Passes the limner's art to trace, '■ The choicest words would fail t' express " That form's bewitching loveliness : " Lustrous the hue of yon dark eye " That throws its melting glance around, " She views thee in the boundless sky, " She hears thy step in every sound, " Love rushes on without control, " And pours his mighty force, " The tide o'erflows her swelling soul, " Resistless in its course ! " Oh haste thee, then, to Sparta fly — " No longer mid these wilds delay — " Again I hear her gently sigh, " ' Dearest Paris, come away !' — " Haste thee, toil yon Ocean o'er, " Dare the North wind's threatening roar, 7—2 99 100 THE POWER OF LOVE. " Soon upon thy Helen's breast " Thou shalt softly sink to rest. " Lo I see thee by the side " Of thy fond, thy beauteous bride, " There thy roving hand entwin'd " Mid those tresses unconfin'd, " Tresses of the raven's glow " Falling o'er a neck of snow ; " Dost thou wish for Monarch's crown " As thou view'st the blushing fair ? " See the loose robe sinking down " Lays her heaving bosom bare ! " Gods ! and as those glowing charms " To thy warm caresses yield, " Wouldst thou quit thy Helen's arms " For the gory battle-field ? "Paris — no — thy purer mind " Love's superior pleasure 0"\vns, " Heeds not things of meaner kind, " Savage fights and troublous thrones ! " Watch the smile on Helen's face, " Revel in her close embrace, " 'Stead of blow for blow be this " The kindlier combat — kiss for kiss — " The only weapon brandish'd high " Be the fair one's piercing eye, " And the sole wound inflicted be " The passion'd print of ecstasy ! " Paris — haste — and linger not — THE PO WER OF LO VE. " Dost thou value happiness ? " Rush then to that welcome spot " Where thou shalt be blest and bless- " Fly to Sparta's palace-halls] " And the voice of love obey, " Hark ! again thy Helen calls " ' Dearest Paris ! come away !' " X. Sub judice lis est. Horace, 'Phus Venus said. And strove to touch the Shepherd's heart ; Soon with eager joy she read The triumph of her winning art. For Paris rose right speedily TVnd thus proclaimed his high decree : •'' Men say 'tis happiness to own " The splendours of a royal throne, " For me I can remember well " The stories that old records tell, " How Monarchs in their pride of state " From rebel hands have met their fate, " Dishonour'd, drawn their latest breath, " Unwept, unpitied, even in death ! =:= * For heaven's sake let us sit upon the ground, And tell sad stories of the death of kings : How some have been deposed, some slain in war, 02 ThE POWER OF LOVE. " Thus QEdipus and Theseus died, " Thus fell the haughty Creon's pride, " And thus was Laius' hoary head " Ennumber'd with the mighty dead ; " Since then from crowns misfortune springs, " Enough — I'll keep aloof from kings ! — " Nor in the rude and savage fight " Shall it be mine to take delight ; " Of what avail is martial fame ? " What boots the warrior's sounding name ? " If one of the opposing foe " Deal on your skull a deadly blow, " Or thro' your ribs his weapon thrust, " Your ribs recumbent in the dust ! " \\'ould martial glory spread a plaister " To cure ye of the sad disaster ? " Or if your jugular were cut in twain " Would martial glory sew it up again ? " No — I wish not so soon to die, " So let me shun the deadly strife — " And to my Helen's arms I fly, " I come, I come, my soul ! my life ! " Nor great care I to be, nor brave, " I'd rather far be Cupid's slave. Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed. Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd, .VU murdered ! Shakspeave, Rich. II., Act 3, Sc. THE POWER OF LOVE. 103 " And give my future life to prove " Myself the votary of love ! — " Then, Juno since you've miss'd your aim, " You may return to whence you came, " Pallas, I need not your assistance, " So keep, my fighting lass, your distance, " If only love's sweet fount I dip in, " I care not — Venus, yours the pippin i" LOVE'S VISION. For all my former search in deep philosophy, Not knowing thee was a mere dream of life : But love in one soft moment taught me more Than all the volumes of tire learned could reach, Gave me the proof, when Nature's birth began. To what great end th' Eternal form'd a man. Cibbcr — Lcrde Makes a Man. Why should we love ? When Adam In the glory of his powers, Jloamed at Creation's da\vning Through Eden's happy bowers, Though he knew his proud dominion O'er every thing confest, A secret care was warring On the fulness of his rest ; And God spake— It is meet not That man should be alone — Then at the word Almighty The smile of woman shone, LOVE'S VISION. los And straight from Heaven's cresset Pour'd the star-light of her eyes, And Earth became with woman then The perfect paradise. Hence I would love ! — Where shall I love ? I'll seek me An isle mid Southern seas, Where the tall lithe palms are flaunting Their shadows to the breeze, And the dark-hued birds sing ever By the wimpling brook that flows, Meandering o'er the woodland From the cool fount where it rose ; Where the god of day is spreading His brightness o'er the land. And Nature joys to scatter All the bounty of her hand, ' And never robes her beauty In the mantle of a frown. Save when to glad the weary earth The rain-cloud droppeth down — There should I love ! When shall I love ? when evening Steals softly from the West, And the world is hush'd in welcome And woos her to its breast, When the faint and drooping flow'rets. Their life-hood to renew, io6 LOVE'S VISION. Are taking to their bosoms The freshness of the dew, And the shrill cicada chirrupeth A farewell to the sun, As he sinks in parting glory When the day of toil is done. Then — when a sacred spirit Fills the created whole, And all Man's purer yearnings Are gushing in his soul. Then would I love ! How should I love ? with braveness ? And mouthing of the name? With loud outspoken rapture, And the vaunting of a claim ? Oh, for me the spirit's murmur. Heard thro' unwilling sighs, The true hand's gentle pressure. And the pleading of the eyes — And the words that I would whisper Should be such as Paris spake, When he sued to fair CEnone In Ida's lonely brake, When their souls were wound together, And the stillness of the grove Seemed the tribute-gift of nature To the innocence of love. So would I love ! — LOVE'S VISION. 107 Whom shall I love ? I see her ! A flood of dazzling light Is welling forth around her As she floats into my sight — I see her, fair as when erewhile On earth I saw her fair, And she woke a heart within me, And I trembling blest her there ; When I trill'd a silent blessing From forth my secret mind. And she pass'd unwitting onward. And left a drear behind. Oh, fond and precious vision. Oh, turn not now away, As knowing not thy mystic power On that first happy day ! Rest, dear and lovely lady. Oh, rest thee kindly here, While all my hope and all my pain I pour into thine ear — Rest thee — I would bear much of ill, Sweet lady, for thy sake, But love will force its utterance Or the poor heart will break. And I must speak that heart to thee, Though I know my words are vain, And thy form that gleams before me But a fashion of the brain. Yet hear me — I would tell thee The charm that thou hast given io8 LOVES VISION. Unto my life, as though a light ' Had shone on me from heaven, A light that glows within me With the radiance of a star. And from before my troubled soul The darkness drives afar ! — • I would tell thee how my being Flowed still in quiet ways, And never burned beneath the flame That love knows well to raise, Felt never the high passion In love that has its birth. And bids Man's spirit soar above The common things of earth, Till that fair day that never yet Has faded in my mind, "When thou camest forth in beauty, And I knew that all behind \Vas gloom of space and wholly vile, And through my pulses ran A flood of newborn gladness And another life began — A life that shall not wither. For though thou mayst never know The joys that even from musing And dreaming of thee flow. For all the good the world can give I would not change away The power to fill my memory still ^\'itll that one happy day ; LOVE'S VISION. 109 But long as He, who ruleth all, Ordains that here below My earthly life shall yet endure. Be it in joy or woe, I swear by all things that may hold Man's soul in solemn thrall. And by — a vow shall rest with me The gravest vow of all — By the pure chain unseen that binds Thine image to my heart, A chain of hallowed brightness That only death may part — I swear that thou thus moving me. And like the rising ray Of yonder god that gleams on high. Turning my night to day, Thou ever — while the Earth is ours, The ocean-waters roll, The seasons keep their circling course, Bride, chosen of my soul. Thou art my love ! SACRA, Long years have passed, pale flowers, since you Were culled and given in brightest bloom ll\' one whose eyes eclipsed their blue, Whose breath was like their own perfume. And. Incog, vide A'. i5^ Q. 2d S. ix. 247. pLo\\'ERS that She gave me flowers that once bloom'd so fair, Breathing your sweetness on the glad summer air, Where now your beauty ? your sweet perfume where ? Lo, ye are faded ! your rich glory gone, Gone the bright freshness that late around ye shone, Lost all that made ye pleasant to look upon. SACRA. III. Flowers, ye are like Her, like Her in your doom. Growing in joyaunce, drooping then in gloom, Passing so briefly to the silent tomb. IV. But not to perish, and fall as meaner things. Still to your blossoms mystic odour clings. Still from your leaflets heavenly fragrance springs. V. Flowers, are ye worthless ? shall I throw ye by ? Never — ye precious founts of sad memory ! Always be with me till the hour I die. VI. Ever be near me, ye. Her last bequest, Still let me tend ye and fold ye in my breast. There to lull my sorrow into gentle rest ! 1859. STANZAS 'Written 30th May, 1849, on a Matriculation Cer- tificate, dated 30th May, 1839. This poor rhyme Is but an adumbration of my life. A Life Drama {A. Smith). Tt is so then — ten years are gone Since first into the broader life Earnest and trusting I was tlirofloi, And Fancy stirr'd a busy strife AVithin the war-field of my mind, Bidding me hope for evermore, Spreading a pleasant shade behind And brightening all before. Oh, were those years to find a voice And utter all the truth they know, Say, should 1 hear them and rejoice, Or shudder at the faults they show ? STANZAS. Hark ! now their secret murmurings, Borne softly on the evening air, Recall how many varied things, And fill my breast with care ! III. They tell of fond hopes to be wrought As chance should fall with ripening Time, They tell of fame and honours sought, And of resolves that soar'd sublime ; But ah, those hopes, how rudely rent ! Those honours still how dim remain ! And those resolves of fair intent How valueless and vain ! IV. Speak out then with the trumpet tongue. Sad years, speak out nor spare me now. But let your sharp reproach be flung For many a sworn and broken vow, For many a guilty action done, For duties left to cold neglect. At times a worthless object won, At times a friendship wrecked. V. For kinsmen by the anguish torn Of disappointment unreveal'd. And for a heart that once could mourn. But now to softer feeling steel'd ; , 114 STANZAS. For God's all-holy law forgot, For His commandment heard and broken, Aye, sad years, memory fails ye not. Ye have too truly spoken. VI. ^ es, it is so — ten circling years Have led the white-mark'd day again, When my bark, toss'd by hopes and fears, AVas launch'd upon the world's wide main ; And Oxford was the port in view, 'Twas gain'd and I was join'd with men. And hopes were high, and fears were few. And I was happy then. VII. Thoughts, Rhedycina, thoughts of thee Come o'er me now, though years are past Since through thy ways I wander'd free, And care was to the breezes cast. And Pleasure's cup was wildly drain'd, And laughter sped the fleeting day, And Prudence ne'er our sport profan'd. And Thought was driven away. Learning's pale lamp for others shone — Lately we lov'd the letter'd page — But why for ever dwell upon The darken'd Greek or Roman asre ? STANZAS. IIS Wise were we then — its load to bear Tlie wayward will was not content ; We reck'd not of our mission there, Nor of our time misspent. IX. And yet grave things become the grave, Meek caution mates with hairs of gray. And would the moralist enslave Bright youth to dull discretion's sway ? Better the young and frolic heart At Pleasure's flame the torch should light. Than play the cold ungenial part Of the sour anchorite. X. Aye — years have vanish' d, since I knew, Old Exeter, thine honour'd hall, But still at times to memory true My mind will former scenes recall. And earlier feelings warm my breast, And in my sunny dreams I see The well-known haunts, and am possess'd With mine old love for thee ! XI. Here in a far and deadly clime The ruder storms of busy life Move sweet remembrance of the time, Whence youth was free from manhood's strife, 8—2 ir6 STANZAS. And when Death's dark and fatal night His shadow o'er the isle has cast, Then graver memory glows with light That hallows all the past. XII. Tet has my' life but idly sped, Dear Oxford, since I left thy bowers ; It has, alas ! been mine to tread A checquer'd path of thorns and flowers ; Not that I 'gainst my lot rebel, For conscience thus the truth lays bare, " What thorns upon thy pathway fell Thyself hast scatter'd there." XIII. Not all ! not mine the fault that I Draw the cold look from one I knew, Knew as a brother once — then why Has Friendship cleft her bond in two ? Sworn before God to speak the truth, Shall I not speak, however loth ? Or shall I lie, like some, forsooth. And vilify my oath ? XIV. " Nay, hold now — for thou knowest well His coldness ruffles not thy breast — Is't honest on this thorn to dwell, This scape-goat thorn, and pass the rest ? STANZAS. 117 Thou little heedest that poor him, Thou knowest well his feeble brain — Hearts changing with the upward whim Can give but fancied pain." XV. Well — it is true — time was I car'd For the mean griefs that vex the mind, But now indifference is my guard, And the world's teaching has inclin'd My heart to trust itself alone, To know and wear its proper pride, To have regard but for its own, And scoff at all beside. XVI. And so I live — what sorrows rise I hold as lightly as I may, But learn from them the more to prize The flowers that happen on my way ; For on my way some flowers are cast, And while a name on earth I bear, The brightness of their hues shall last, Nor fade their fragrance rare. XVII. For setting ties of kin aside — What need to reckon kindred here ? Can aught a brother's care divide. Or make a sister's name less dear ? I S STANZAS. Beats there the heart that would not glow High reverence for a sire to prove, Or, holiest of all sense below, Return a mother's love ? Then setting ties of kin apart. Some trusty friends 'tis mine to boast. Friends, prompt to show the kindly heart, AVhen kindly hearts are wanted most : And oftentimes their soothing aid Has, when the weight of care opprest, Driven the dark cloud away, and made Sweet sunshine in my breast. Let benefits be traced on sand, And Avrongs be graven deep on stone* — Such is the callous world's command — I follow part, and part disown ; Shame on the ingrate would deny A friend through fear or hope of gain, God send him evermore to lie Whelm'd 'neath his selfdisdain. * Men's evil manners live in brass ; their virtues We write in water — Shakcsfean\ Hen. VIII. Act 4, Sc. STANZAS. 119 But who in malice injures me, I care not what his wealth or power, I mark the churl where'er he be, And then when comes the grateful hour — How sweet Revenge ! and oh may yet The drivelling day be absent long When I a benefit forget, Or I forgive a wrong !* XXI. Life is a mystic stream that flows Obedient to the eternal will, Now rufiled by the wind that blows. Now placid in its course and still ; The gentle brook may scarce divide Its waters as it onward sweeps. But rushing down the mountain-side The torrent stirs its deeps ; Some sunny plains it wanders through, And dance its ripples in the beam, And then deep shades of sombre hue O'ercast the dark and gloomy stream. * The Scots, whose native temper is not easily to forgive an injury. — Defoe, Memoirs of a Cavalier. An si quis atro dente me petiverit, Inultus ut flebo puer ? Horace, Epod. vi. 16. 120 STANZAS. Thus speeds our various life — its doom Still bears it to the parent sea, And gulphs it in the ocean-tomb Of dread eternity ! XXIII. And at this doom which alters not For us to cavil would be vain ; Shall man's weak murmur change his lot ? God's will be tum'd when we complain ? Let us in tranquil mind enjoy The good it pleases Him to send, And though the ills of life annoy Be patient to the end. XXIV. For me, with every fate content, Raised by success or crushed by cares, Incurious of the fortune sent, I bear it as the Stoic bears, ^Vho sees life's shifting currents flow To cheer or pain poor human kind, Laughs at their self-inflicted woe. And wears an equal mind. I ask not wealth, nor rank, nor power, — Be my good name my only care — And unto Life's last closing hour That name shall ever flourish fair ! STANZAS. 121 And Love may chill and Envy frown — Man changes with the changing year- But those my soul has truly known My memory shall revere !* * Extinctus amabitur idem. Hm-ace, Ep. JI. 1.14. WRITTEN IN A COPY OF TENNYSON'S $n ^emoriam. ' ' And loiter'd in the master's field And darken'd sanctities with song." — In Mi'iiioriain XXX PVI. 'Fhe sorrows of the master mind I follow on the living page, The living to all after age And shedding hallowed light behind — And though o'er this my sullened heart Has fortune cast her darker hue, And some I trusted proved untrue, And vice and folly dealt their smart, And left me cold and spirit-dead, I hold withal one little spot May still be found where withered not Sleeps Virtue in her secret bed ; " IN MEAIORIAMr 1 23 For even to me brings sweet relief This flow of full-toned utterance, Exert the spirit to entrance, This measured rhapsody of grief; And as I read within my breast The wicked passions seem to fall And lose their power at Virtue's call, And troubled fancies sink to rest. Oh, such pure threnode ne'er before Sprung from the dust-bom brain of man. Nor poet, since our world began. High notes as these had strength to pour. Here men shall learn, till time be done, The true nobility of woe. And souls in sympathy shall glow With the lament of Tennyson ! Hongkong, Innocents' Day, 1851. THE LAMENT OF KATHARINE OF BRAGANZA. ' ' From the calm sphere that enclosed me Thou hast dragged me to this throne." Maid of Orleans. " 'Phe monarch exil'd from his throne And forc'd a rival's power to o^vn — The warrior-chief, untaught to yield, And lying gasping on the field. His latest fear that breath of shame May taint the glory of his name — The sailor wrecked upon the wave, And settling to his ocean-grave — The patriot thrust by envious hand An outcast from his father-land — The trader when he hears the tale Of his rich galliots by the gale In ruin sunk — these, these may know The crushing stroke of bitter woe — KATHARINE OF BRAGANZA. 125 But ah ! their woe can never prove ' In hopeless misery above The rack of unrequited love !* " They cannot tell what 'tis to brook The coldness of a husband's look, To see him woo another's smile And hide an aching heart the while, To hear him murmur in his sleep The name of her whose beauty stole The heart a wedded wife should keep — Ah ! this is anguish to the soul Feeling that life had pass'd in bliss An 'twere not for a blow like this ! " Oh memory ! though oft thou art A joy and solace to the heart — Some though there be that fancy well On scenes of former days to dwell. With these my mind now glancing back In sorrow o'er its darken'd track. And brooding on the ills gone by May own but little sympathy ! " For dreary thoughts and sad arise And tears unbidden dim mine eyes, When I remember the glad hours I pass'd among the orange bowers, * "But unrequited love, thy dart Plung'd deepest its envenom'd smart. " Scott's Lady of the Lake. T26 THE LAMENT OF That wav'd round Lisbon's royal dome — I was a child — and that my home — I knew a friend in every tree, In every bird and beast that stray'd Adown the path, or through the glade, In every flower and grassy blade — All Nature wore a smile for me. And Belem's grim and frowning fort Look'd down upon me in my sport. And to a youthful dreamer's eye Approv'd my giddy revelry. Oh, had I wist the cruel fate Doom'd on my future years to fall, I had refus'd a Queen's high state And never left my father's hall ! " What lur'd me thence? the wish to wear A queenly circlet ? to be known In History's living page ? to share The splendour of a Saxon throne ? Scarce this — Braganza's royal name Gave in itself enough of fame — Beneath the arching dome of Hea\'en No prouder title could be given Than that I claim'd already mine, The daughter of Braganza's line ! The courtly train were waiting still. Still at my feet the legate sued. Parent and priest spake down my will, And I submitted to be wooed — KATHARINE OF BRAGANZA. 127 Ah, luckless hour ! ah, hapless fate ! Let the low envy not the great — Search through the hovels of the poor, The hut where vilest serfs frequent The toiling wife of meanest boor, Shrivell'd by want, by labour bent. Has higher, happier, lot than I, Whose heart has lost its liberty. " Sire, let my plaining voice be heard — One word from thee — but one brave word AVould heal, would soothe my wandering brain, And give me life and joy again — Throw off the wantons of the Court, Back with the slavish venal train. That make thy Queen their secret sport, And thee, the wallet whence they drain For vilest use unworthy gain ; Let England's palace be no more The den where vice holds gorgeous state, And humble virtue cowers before Her flaunting pride, and flies the gate — One word from thee, and here again Shall white-rob'd virtue hold her reign — One word from thee, and yet thy name Shall live upon the scroll of fame — One word — and oh, a faithful heart From the dark gloom of grief shall start Into the light of joy — of heaven — And, all forgotten, all forgiven, THE LAMENT OF The sun of happiness shall shine On the now wretched Katherine !" So moum'd she ; but her plaint was vain, Nought reck'd the husband of the wife, She saw him end his idle reign. She saw him close his fruitless life ; Then as the dove, that left the ark. Flew back unto the welcome bark, Or as the soul, its earthly frame To dust returning whence it came, Spreads the free wing and soars on high. And seeks its Maker in the sky,* So tum'd she from that foreign strand And sought her own lov'd southern land ; There mid her Lusitanian bowers At ease she pass'd the peaceful hours, Or at her suffering country's call With wisdom's hand she seized the helm. And roused to arms a sinking realm, Crush'd the proud Spaniard's threaten'd thrall, And prov'd the might of Portugal ! So living, died she ! and where rears Yon royal fane its holy head. She rests beside the lov'd one dead, The brother of her early years— So when the soule finds here no true contente. And, like Noah's dove, can no sure footinge take. She doth returne from "whence she first was sente, And flyes to him that first her wings did make. Sir John Davies — Immortalitie of the Sonic. KATHARINE OF BRAGANZA. 129 And still within that grateful clime Her name outlasts the flight of Time, And still till Time shall be no more, As there, so on our English shore, May the sweet memory flourish green Of her, the unhappy English Queen ! Macao, 1853. GERTRUDE AND LAUNCELOT. pj E laid him down upon the mossy bank, Drooping his head in his own Gertrude's lap, And with the speaking eyes of perfect love Gazed into hers that spoke his love again ; She the while dallied with his raven curls, And in Ihem playful intertwined the flowers That rais'd their many colour'd cups around ; The \ ine leaves rustling in the noontide air AVove a cool foliage from the sunbeam's heat ] Beneath reclined the lovers, and the place So breathed the spirit of all happiness. That who had seen them in their sweet repose Had turned aside, nor with insensate step Profaned the wrapt communion of their souls — " I will not sport to-day, — my purpose was To seek the marsh, and from the wild fowl's wing Pluck the gay feather for my Gertrude's hair. But thus my arms I throw aside, and lie A willing captive at my tyrant's feet. Look ever on me thus, my dearer self. True love reads throughly, and thy conscious eyes GERTRUDE AND LAUNCELOT. 131 Now silent mete the promptings of my soul, Even as they tell their hidden tale to me, And glance the mirror of thy trusting heart. " Look ever on me thus — all I once held, Doubting, nay scoffing at, a woman's faith. Seems foolish now, but I will err no more ; Another life is moving to my view, Opening its portals wide and beckoning in. And I will onward, for within the dome, Plotting a welcome for her absent love, Fearing, yet hopeful of, the promis'd greeting, And knowing herself happy in her fear. Waits one whose bosom throbs in wild accord With the tumultuous beating of my own. Passed be the portals then — the priceless prize Is ready to the hand — is reached — is won — And Gertrude rests for ever in my arms ! " 'Tis a fair vision, darling, nor a vain ; I count the past of nothing — not to me The part inane and void of life gone by Is pleasing now — I marvel how I lived — Men say that age gets knowledge, 'tis that age Chances on Love and hence true knowledge springs.'^ In sooth 'tis marvel I have lived my life Even to this manhood and unreasoning joy'd In things but suited to the common mind. * " It is a beautiful feature in the angelical hierarchy of the Jews that the seraphs rank first, and the cherubs after — that is to say — Love before knowledge." — Leigh Hunt. 9—2 1 3 2 GERTR UDE AND LA UNCELOT. Once was I loved to listen to the birds Pouring their throats the sombre thickets thro'. And thought their music the supreme of sound, Passing all else in Nature's perfect reign — I had not heard thy voice ! " I have seen Queens Tread the mean earth in stateliness of gait, And wonder seized on me — I had not seen Thy pride of movement then ! " I have, entranced, Stood 'neath the starry radiance of the skies. And deemed no more of brightness could appear Within the bounded ken of human sight — I knew not then, my sweetest love, thy smile ! " Thy smile ! that in the glory of its sheen Is to the bright sky as yon blushing rose Unto the flowers less choice that blossom near. Thy smile ! that beams the lode-star of my being, And checks the full-charged channels of the breath, Lulls me in outward calm, yet fires my soul A\'ith all the dear delirium of love — That makes me all forget the world around, And the world's troubles and its meaner joys. Circling me, heedless of all else, within A world itself creates for us alone. Thy poAverful smile ! beneath its magic force I rise to higher, happier, holier state Than ever glittered round the Kings of earth. Thy sacred smile ! for which the prisoner's cell A\'ould lose its shame and be a heaven to me ! GERTRUDE AND LAUNCELOT. 133 " And in a few short days, yet seeming long, At the pure altar of the village church, ^^'ell known from earliest days of infancy. Together shall our hands be joined, while stand Our parents and our many friends around. Then mid their words of gratulation true What transport mine to whisper in thine ear The hallowed name of wife ! and thou shalt smile, Much trembling, yet all happy, even as now — Oh, my heart's pride, smile ever on me thus !" So Launcelot, then Gertrude yet more near Bringing the dark effulgence of her eyes. And bending o'er him, while with raptured sense He saw the large affection of her soul Gleam in its fulness : " More, my Launcelot, Why ceasest thou, sweet life ? for I could hang Upon the flowing honey of thy tongue. Nor ever weary — not the flattery wins me — That pleases but in showing thou art pleased — But there is somewhat in the lov'd one's voice That holds and trances all a woman's heart, Fixes her every thought, fills her whole mind. And makes her careless of the passing scene — A dear enjoyment — such was mine but now. Speak more then, Launcelot, of what I heed not. Tell of .thy dreams, thy rambles, or thy books. Tell of thy field sports — of the marsh where nest The wild fowl doom'd, good need ! to deck my hair. Is this thy fusil charged ? nay ? harmless then ! 134 GERTRUDE AND LAUNCELOT. 'Tis well, my own, that love has taught thee caution. And yet death's instruments at best beseem not 'Weak woman's presence." " Nay," laughed Launcelot, " Uncharged why fear it ? I will show thee proof — There — thus I point it at thee — now harsh tyrant — Repent thee of thy deeds of murder done, Of all the killing glances of thine eye, Of all the treachery of thy luring smile, Of all the falsehoods of thy siren tongue, And all the deaths that blossom on thy cheek ! Repent thee speedily — for thou shalt die, And by the hand of him thou hast enslaved " — A heavenly smile passed o'er the face of Gertrude, "(live fire," she said — and fell ! ***** ***** ***** And did he shriek and rave in his despair ? Did he send up thro' air the cry of grief? Did he kneel wildly by that lifeless form, And with his withering anguish rend the heavens ? He spoke not — moved not — he was still as death — There are some woes too deep for utterance, That burst not into glare, but burn in gloom ; Such woe was Launcelot's, the surface calm, But oh, how awful was the depth below ! How ten'ible the speechless, silent pain, That bound his nerveless limbs, yet gave his sense The power to think and feel — and rack'd his soul. GERTRUDE AND LAUNCELOT. 135 Helpless, yet burning with the will to do — Anon he charged his weapon yet again, Else motionless, nor speaking — yet again Rang death, and Launcelot self-slaughtered fell ! ***** ***** In yon lone corner of the old churchyard Beneath the shade which the light feathery willow With the gaunt C)rpress intermingled weaves, Are laid the ashes of the unhappy pair. A stone of clearest marble marks the spot ; On it no pompous story is engraved, No tedious tribute to the unhearkening dead ; The grief-struck gazer — and who gazing grieves not?- Draws near and reads at length the mournful tale Told by the words — **®ertru3)e attto a,atmttlot." LINES TO LAURA. Suggested by the following from Grosier, quoted by Moore in his Lalla Rookh ; — " Among the birds of Tonquin is a species of goldfinch, which sings so melodiously that it is called the Ce- lestial Bird. Its wings when it is perched appear variegated with beautiful colours, but when it flies they lose all their splen- dour." 'J'here is a bird that roams within, The orange-groves of far Tonquin, And such melodious music pours The fragrance-breathing bowers among, That all who seek yon sunny shores Harken and wonder at the song ; So soft, so rich the strain that all The Bird of Heaven the warbler call. My Laura, like this bird thou art, Thy winning ways entrance each heart, And who may chance thy charms to see Forsake all else to worship thee ; Thy power resistless all declare. And hail thee matchless 'mong the fair. LINES TO LAVRA. 137 Oh, glorious is the colour spread Along that bird's refulgent wings, Aye, and a brighter radiance shed Than ever graced the robes of kings ; The tints are rare as those that show On Iris' various-painted bow, And none of mortal race may view A plumage of a richer hue — But, lo, his wings are spread, and now He flies from off his leafy bough. He goes o'er other groves to soar. And see— his beauty is no more ! His loveliness apace is faded. His splendour withers in his flight. Those feathers late so softly shaded No longer dart their gemmy light — Oh, Laura, let my verse be heard, Scorn not to learn of this sweet bird, Like him, believe me, shalt thou be Whenever thou forsakest me. If e'er thou spread thy wing to fly, And fickle seek another's arms, Dim then shall grow thy lustrous eye And perish all thy peerless charms. III. Oh, shouldst thou ever roam from me, How grieved one faithful heart would be, LINES TO LA URA. A\'hat pain and sorrow would be mine, And ah, what ruined beauty thine ? Hear, Laura, hear thy lover true His \'Ows of love once more renew. And thou, as oft before, confess That life with him were happiness — One willing word — and we will prove This world for us a world of love — Secure shall be thy beauty's pride, And blissful shall the moments glide In such a pure Elysian stream As ne'er was pictured in a dream — Thus sweet shall pass our lives away. But if thou quit thy place of rest. Then shall thy loveliness decay. And mine shall be an aching breast ! THE SLAVE-FRIEND'S SENTENCE. "You committed the offence of aiding a slave to run away ' ' and depart from his master's service — and you are now to die ■'for it." Sentence pronounced on John Broivn at Ntiu Orleans — Vide Spectator, 2nd March, 1S44, T^EATH on the gallows ! a felon's doom ! Death on the gallows ! great God ! for whom ? For the man who stretch'd his hand to save From the tyrant's scourge the suffering slave ? For the man who burst the galling chain, And gave to the captive her freedom, again ? For him in whom yon poor one knew A friend ? — and the first, since a lawless crew Her from her mother's bosom tore ; And mocking her prayers for mercy bore In their woe-fraught ship to a distant shore ! Gallows for him ! a palace raise — There bid him pass his honour'd days — And let the poet's verses flow, High reverence for his name to show, 140 THE SLAVE-FRIENDS SENTENCE. And to the judge, yon fiend of hell, The scorn of honest men to tell ! Let voice and type with lyre and lute Proclaim aloud the ermin'd brute ! Let them imprint with a damning brand That godless deed in a godless land ! THE PLAGUE OF LONDON. " The pestilence that walketh in darkness — " the destruction that wasteth at noon day" — Psalm XCI. 6. " And Death triumphant rides the tainted gale." Lord Carlisle's Ox. Pr. Poem. ■^yHY over London's towers to-day Hovers a dark and threatening gloom ? Why in her halls so lately gay Reigns now the silence of the tomb ? Why drear and vacant is each street, And whither fled the frequent throng That trod the way with hurried feet, Or strolled in idleness along ? Oh, will no sound the stillness break, That chills with awe the gazer's soul? And from his mind will nothing make The sickening film of horror roll ? — There is a sound — but 'twill not cheer — There is a cry — a cry of dread — Hark how it swells upon the ear — Bring out your dead ! bring out your dead ! 142 THE PLAGUE OF LONDON. The demon of the noisome pest Uprises in his loathsome lair, Throws off the torpid folds of rest, And hies him through the lurid air ; No thunder tells his stealthy course, No lightnings show him in his flight. And the deep venom of his force Is mark'd not by the tempest's might ! Thro' the dark, heavy, stagnant air He breathes upon the fated scene, And lo, a deadly blight hangs there AMiere hope and joy and love have been 1 None may a living city know, Save where the sullen bedrel's tread Keeps cadence with the words of woe. Bring out your dead ! bring out your dead The mother with heart-broken cries j\Iourns her unhappy infant's death. And eagerly though vainly tries Each art to stay the fleeting breath, The maid exhausts her tender care To comfort him she loves the best. And in the madness of despair Clasps the foul lazar to her breast ! The father wails his dying son, Unmann'd to think the manly form iSIust ere the day's sad course be run Be junket-forage for the worm ; THE PLAGUE OF LONDON. 143 With bursting sob and flowing eye He watches by the doom'd one's bed, And starts to hear the warning cry, Bring out your dead ! bring out your dead ! Never since ancient Edward's reign Has London known such awful day, And never may her sons again See death thus fiercely grasp his prey — The wretch with plague-spots cover'd o'er, Scarce able in his feeble state To tell the sickening pains that bore Sure impress of the coming fate — The livid hue that went and came. The burning skin, the swimming eye, The writhing of the tortur'd frame. The death throe, and its agony — • And never more thro' London's ways Be that sepulchral chorus spread. That strikes into his soul, and stays The listener's step — Bring out your dead ! THE CARES OF CHILDHOOD. " Si quis Deus mihi largiatur ut ex hac tetate repuerescam, et in cunis vagiam, valde reciiscviy Cicero de Seiicctute. " So numerous are the follies that annoy, The mind and heart of every sprightly boy." Ccnitper. "There are who think that childhood does not share "With age the cup, the bitter cup, of care ; Alas ! they know not this unhappy truth — That every age and rank is bom to ruth. '' Kirkc mite. " He maintained that a boy at school was the happiest of hu- man beings. I supported a different opinion from which I have ne^er yet varied, that a man is happier, and I enlarged upon the anxiety and sufferings that are endured at school. " BoswcWs Life of Johnson. * T HAVE heard them say that our childhood's hours are the happiest time of our earthly race ; and they speak with regret of their summer-bowers, and * These verses were contributed to i\^otes and Queries fifteen years ago, and printed designedly in the form here given. THE CARES OF CHILDHOOD. 145 the mirth they knew in the butterfly chase ; and they sorrow to think that those days are past, when their young hearts bounded with Hghtsome glee, when by none of the clouds of care o'ercast, the sun of their joy shone cheerily. But oh ! they surely forget that the boy may have grief of his own that strikes deep in his heart ; that an angry frown, or a broken toy, may inflict for a time a cureless smart ; and that little pain is as great to him as a weightier woe to an older mind ! Aye ! the harsh reproof, the unfavour'd whim, may be sharp as a pang of a graver kind ! Then how dimsighted and thoughtless are those who would they were frolicsome children and free ; they should rather rejoice to have fled from the woes that hung o'er them once so heavily. In misfortune's rude shocks the practis'd art of the man may perchance disclose relief, but the child in his innocence of heart will bow 'neath the stroke of a trifling grief ^y-^*=^ THE THREE SHIPWRECKS. AN ALLKGORY. J DREAMT me wrecked in the stormy Frith That receives the winding Forth, And dark was the sky, And the waves leapt high. And the wind blew fierce from the north ; I shrieked aloud in my wild despair, And looked madly for help around O'er the raging main, But I looked in vain, No sign of help was found ! At length meUiought come floating on I saw a welcome plank, T made for it soon — But the plank was none, And ia the deep surge I sank. THE THREE SHIPWRECKS. 147 'Y'hat night I dreamt me wrecked again, 'Tvvas mid the southern seas, With Italia's shore Our prow before, And a calm and favouring breeze ; But our bark went down, and I seized in haste A plank that was drifted by, 'Twas a goodly board, And might well afford Stout aid in my agony ; But 'twas cumbered with lead and 'twas pierced witli holes. And vain was its power to save, And though all despite I clung to it tight, I fell to my watery grave. Qnce more the dream — off England's coast I seized my plank as it passed, Though old and rough, 'Twas of right good stuff. And we gallantly braved the blast. Though the loud winds howled, And the dark heavens scowled. And the waves sung their hoarse deep song. Now low, now high, My plank and I Were cheerily borne along. 148 THE THREE SHIPWRECKS. And soon the haven appeared in view, And the wished-for land I trod, Then my plank, I knew, Was firm and true, And I owned it sent from God I 1844. SONNET ACROSTIC For the Fourteenth September. June has pass'd onward with its humid heat, , Onward July has march'd in muggy guise, August in showers has sounded a retreat. Now comes September, and our hopes arise. Now comes the month that says cool nights are near ; Evoe, let us shout, but it shall claim Sublimer honours ! in a long-past year A man was born, and consecrate to fame. Under September's rule— would'st know his name ? Down this mild sonnet let thy glance be flung, Inspect th' initial of each leading word. Then from its mantle of the Latin tongue Unwrap the product, and unless I've err'd, So shall the honour'd name appear,— 'tis thine, J H ! Hongkong, i860. SONG. Qo, false lover, I abjure thee, Go, and woo another's smile. Let thy traitor tongue procure thee Other puppet of thy guile ; Use thine art, be gentle ever. All thy winning power be sho^v^, Tell her thou'lt forget her never, Hers till death, and hers alone. Say her will shall be thy pleasure. And her happiness thy pride, Say her love's a dearer treasure Than the world can give beside ; Swear thou never wilt forsake her Till the sun shall cease to shine. Win her— cast her off— and break her Heart, as thou hast broken mine ! SERENADE. Me tuo longas pereunte noctes, Lydia, donnis. Horace, Carm, i,, 25 ; 7. ^Y^AKE, Lydia, wake, the morning light Is breaking forth on tree and flower, And the pale shades of sullen night Fly back as dawns the joyous hour ; But not to me is light or joy Upon the laughing suntide borne ; Wake, ladye, wake, and hear me sigh — Ah, I am all amort and lorn ! Wake, cruel Lydia, all is gloom Where beauty's lamp delays to shine. One glance from thee, love, shall illume This dark and rayless heart of mine. And dost thou sleep when he is near, He who with thee would cease to mourn ? Wake, ladye, wake, my sighs to hear — Ah, I am all amort and lorn ! THY PRAYER IS HEARD, St, LuKr,, i., ij T CROSSED the aisle the shrine to gain, And unobserved to catch the strain — I saw her, on her bended knee Gazing with fervent piety Upon the A'irgin — loose her hair Floated adown her bosom bare. Oh she was heavenly, passing fair — I saw her, and I thought to stay, I could not drag my steps away. And so I listened while her song Flowed thus in dulcet tones along : Ave Maria ! heal my grief, And deign a suppliant's prayer to hear, Oh, give my bursting heart relief From pain and sorrow, doubt and fear ! THY PR A YER IS HEARD. 153 When in temptation's path I stray, Guard me from every treacherous snare, And guide me in the heavenly way, Ave Maria ! hear my prayer ! Ave Maria ! grant that I My future days may pass in peace. And tUl the welcome hour I die That all my earthly troubles cease ; Or if it were to me but given That while I kneel before thy shrine, My soul might wing its way to heaven, Oh, what a glorious part were mine ! Ave Maria ! 'mong the blest My grateful voice I'd gladly raise. And while the tuneful chords I pressed. Each note should syllable thy praise ; Take, take my spirit unto thee, Place me with angels bright and fair, From earth to heaven how sweet to flee, Ave Maria ! hear my prayer ! Ave Maria ! queen of love. Look down upon me in my woe. Bear me from here to heaven above. And teach me angels' bliss to know. Ave ! thou Virgin Mother, hail ! With pity now thy bosom warms. 154 THY PR A YER IS HEARD. I feel my earthly senses fail, I see thee stretch thy guardian arms ! Hushed was the hymn — and at its close, 'Twas strange, not yet the maiden rose : Still, still she knelt in beauty there, Her hands upraised as if in prayer ; Sudden around her form it seemed A bright and holy radiance gleamed, She sank against the pillar's base — Forward I sprung — that lovely face An ashy paleness overspread — The prayer was heard — the maid was dead. A ELLE. " Oh, love, love, what sport dost thou make with us ! Yet who would not for the moment submit to be sported with, for the joy, though imaginary, which attends the illusion?" Sterling. " Lips which I never kissed, and never shall." Peter Pindar. JJiS gladsome rays when Phoebus pours O'er earth and sea, And lightens up our island shores, I think of thee : Aye, and when men are lulled in sleep And Nature seems Wrapt in a silence soft and deep, Thou fiU'st my dreams ! II. Oft when by weight of ill oppressed, A healing balm Thine image sheds, and fills my breast With holy calm ; iS6 A ELLE. When joy and gladness hold their reign, ' Thine then it is To teach my ravished soul to attain The full of bliss! III. On me what though thou little know'st The blessings rare That thou, unconscious all, bestow'st, Thou witching fair. What though to thee thy wondrous power Is all unknown, I love to live life's every hour On thee alone ! IV. One nearer step I dare not move My prize to gain, Lest the dear prize perchance should prove Beloved in vain ! And should I happier be even then, Or happier thou ? Let me not dare the thought again — I'm happy now. FOR MUSIC. 'They told me thou wert false, my love, Whom I believed divine. They said though I might constant prove, Thou never couldst be mine. That soon thy father's halls would be A gay and festive spot. When he, the blest one, wedded thee, But I believed it not. I thought of happy days gone by When dallying by thy side, Each glance I worshipped of thine eye, And wooed thee for my bride. I think of this — and ne'er by me Those days shall be forgot. So when they tell this tale of thee. Love, I believe it not. JESSIE. "WTe a' luv'd puir Jessie, The pride o' the toon, And the thochts o' her noo Bring the tears rinnin' doon, For but lately we saw har ' Sae gude and sae fair, And noo she'll come back To Glenalmon' nae mair. II. Her smile was the sunshine, Her words the saft de^v, And 'neath them the flowrets (.)' luve for her grew; O, the day was a sad ane When Death struck her sair, For noo she'll come back To Glenalmon' nae mair. JESSIE. 159 Her feyther and mither Sit greetin' their lane, O, wlia can be to them Like her that is gane ? A' thing boot their housie Looks dreary and bare, For Jessie is noo , In Glenalmon' nae mair. IV. But Jessie was spotless An' pure, an' we trust Her hame is in heaven Wi' the true and the just, An' 'gin we live like her, We'll a' meet her there. And come back, save in thoclit. To Glenalmon' nae mair. GRIEF, THE RECLAIMER. J 'vE seen a gentle youth and gay His thoughtless course pursuing, And seeking in the crooked way Of vice his own undoing. When ah ! grim Death that knows not ruth, And little cares for Beauty, Struck down a loved one, and the youth Uproused him to his duty. Wisdom, by pleasure softly fanned. Is oft by sleep o'ertaken. But at the touch of sorrow's hand Shall soon again awaken. SONNET DEDICATORY^ -WRITTEN IN A LADY'S ALBUM. J^ow hard the part, dear ladie, 'tis to write Lines to inaugurate this gift to thee, Not the great master's fancy could indite' A fitting eulogy— aye, even he Of worthy language might lament the dearth, For, weave the fairest wreath of poesy CuU'd from all tongues and ages of the earth. Poor in thy presence would the tribute be ! And what am I that I should hope to gain Success in striving where the world must fail ? So let me rather own the endeavour vain, And hold myself content if these avail To ward reproof from my allotted task — Approval, ladie, is far more than I can ask. II ISAIAH XXVI,, 4, PARAPHRASED. ') ^! "^RUST in the Lord for aye ! Eternal is his power, His dwelling place in heaven on liigh Is strength's and wisdom's tower ; Proud cities at his word Are levelled with the dust, Then give all reverence to the Lord, And in Jehovah trust. Trust in the Lord for aye ! The poor and needy foot Shall when the cities lowly lie Upon their pride be put ; Then walk ye in the way, The pathway of the just, To God your humble homage pay, And in Jehovah trust. ^^^ ^1 ^^RIDE^ SI SAPIS." (Martial). Ji^OT always falls the gloomy shower, Not always do the dark clouds lower On man's uncertain day, But sometimes gleams the cheerful sun And glories as in triumph won, Calling aloud to every one, Shine, while you may ! II. Then forth to healthy pastime go, Pursue the fox or chase the roe, Or hook your finny prey ; Go, seek the wild fowl in his lair, And on the hill-tops let the air Blow health around your flowing hair — Sport, while you may ! 1 64 " RIDE, SI SAPIS." In revel on the grassy plain Scorn not to join the dancing train, But frolic blithe as they ; Mix in the mirthful rigadoon, And as your twinkling feet keep tune Beneath the flood-light of the moon, Prank, while you may ! IV. Command blue devils to the rear, Bid grim despondence disappear, The ghosts Trophonian lay ; " Ride, si sapis /" let the sound Of mirth and jollity abound. And nothing else be heard around — Laugh, while you may ! v. A merry heart, we know withal. Is a continual festival, 'Twas his, the sage's say.* So take the wise man at his word, And spread the junkets on the board, And be the wine-cup freely pour'd ; Feast, while you may ! * Pro\-erbs, xv. 15. " HIDE, SI SAPIS." 165 VI. But ever through your earthly span, Deal justly with your fellow-man Of homogeneous clay. Man cannot hold a nobler creed, Nor one more fram'd to serve his need — Act upon this — and then, indeed, , Live, as you may ! And when death comes, as come he must, With boding whisper — dust to dust — And beckons you away, Point to the past, and through the gloom That shrouds the mystery of the tomb. Smile calmly on th' approaching doom. Smile, for you may ! "fSmmmssy^"'^'^^'^ ir^ r_,-i>^A- SONG. J STROLLED thro' the garden, and saw a sweet flow'ret Rejoicing its beauty and youth to display, And with his gay beams 'gan the sun to o'erpower it. It opened its leaves, and admitted the ray. But the god in his splendour too fiercely was shining, His beam was too warm for the bud and too bright, tor alas ! in the stillness of rapture reclining. It suddenly fell 'neath his withering light ! Lo ! yonder the heavens that in darkness are loAvering Their waters refreshing on earth's bosom pour, And while the mild flood o'er the petals is showering, The flow'ret gains strength and blooms forth as before. I've seen the young maiden appear in her beauty. And listen entranc'd to the words of the youth, And while he sigh'd forth his affection and duty. She fondly reposed in his love and his truth. SONG. 167 But then came the hour that brought shame and dis- honour, The trusting one knew she was basely undone. She cursed the false heart that wrought misery on her, And droop'd as the flower at the glance of the sun ! While in sadness she pin'd, tho' her kindred reprov'd her; They wept o'er her wrongs, and they softened her grief, They showed her that they, and they only, had lov'd her, And she in their sympathy found her relief Oh, thus is it ever ! our life may be grievous, But the sun-stroke is heal'd by the shower-drop of rain ; And tho' it may chance that the world shall deceive us, The tears of our friends shall revive us again. CHORAL DIRGE OVER THK REMAINS OF HANNIBAL. E JFragmeitt. [Onuies.) (^ARTHAGE ! the mde earth around Let the notes of woe be spread, On the tuneful lyre resound Thy hero dead. Warriors, strike the mournful string. Damsels, strains of sorrow sing, Let not the cithern's chord be mute, Strike the tabor, sound the lute ; For he is gone, his race is run — From the light of day He is borne away — Weep, Carthage, for thy fallen son ! {Strophe.) He, who erst the bolt of thunder O'er the plains of Latium hurl'd, CHORAL DIRGE. 169 He, who smote with fear and wonder Rome, the mistress of the world. (Antistrophe!) He, to whom the Alpine mountains Nought of terror could impart, Rushing streams were gentle fountains. Powerless to dismay his heart. {Strbphe:) He, whose sword of haughty foemen Deeply drank the purple blood. And who made the vanquish'd Roman Bend the knee by Trebia's flood. (Antistrophe.) Of his deathless fame and glory 'Neath which nations prostrate fell, Cannae's field, renown'd in story, And Lake Thrasymene shall tell. l^Omnes.) Strike, warriors, strike the mournful string. Damsels, strains of sorrow sing. Let not the harp's sad chord be mute. Strike the tabor, sound the lute ; He is gone — his race is run — From the light of day He is borne away — Carthage, weep thy fallen son ! I70 CHORAL DIRGE. {Strophe.) Well might he thy fear upbraid, Driven by thee to seek for aid A foreign strand — By thee of every hope bereft, The wanderer for ever left His native land ! Sound, Carthage, sound the notes of woe, And let the tear-drop of repentance flow. [Auiistrophe.) See he lifts the poisoned chalice. And the treacherous darts of malice Thus nobly flies ; Now on high he raises up. Now he drains the deadly cup. He sinks — he dies ! Oh, Carthage, let the tear of sorrow fall. And honour thus the shade of Hannibal ! {Ointics.) Ye warriors, strike the mournful string, Ve damsels, strains of sorrow sing. Let not the l}Te's sad chord be mute Strike the tabor, sound the lute ; For he is gone — his race is run — From the light of day He is borne a^vay — Weep, Carthage, weep thy iallen son ! UNDER THE PEAK. III. ANGLICE REDDITA. THE FORTUNES OF ARIST^US. FROM THE FOURTH GEORGIC OF VIRGIL, V. 317, AD FINEM. ■^HEN Aristseus fled fair Tempe's land, His hives destroy'd by famine's hostile hand, Mournful at Peneus' sacred source he stood. And call'd his parent from the rising flood : " Mother Cyrene ! throned these waves among. Why am I, as thou sayst, of Phoebus sprung ? If of the race of gods thy son be bom, Wherefore thus all forgotten and forlorn ? Whither from me are thine affections driven ? Why didst thou order me to hope for heaven ? Behold me now of earthly fame bereft, Late the sole produce of my labour left — But come with thine own hand my groves upturn. With vengeful flame my stalls and harvests burn, Destroy my seedlings, and my vines erase. Since thou, alas, art weary of my praise !" 174 THE FORTUNES OF ARIST.EUS. 'Neath yon deep river's bed the mournful sound The mother heard ; her busy nymphs around Were spinning fleeces of rich colours dyed, ^^'hich famed Miletus for their use supplied ; Drymo and beauteous Xantho both were there, Ligea and Phyllodoce the fair, Adown whose marble necks soft fell the golden hair ; Nesaee and Cymodoce between AVere Spio and the young Thalia seen, Cydippe and Lycorias — this a maid, And that but once had sought Lucina's aid — In garments cloth'd of rude embroidery Clio and Beroe, daughters of the sea, And fairy Opis and glad Ephyre, AA'ith Deiopeia of an Asian race, And Arethusa, eager in the chace ; 'Mongst these did Clymene the tale repeat Of Vulcan's fruitless care and Mars' deceit, And all the loves of all the gods she told From father Chaos in the days of old. A\'hilst all enchanted with the pleasing theme Pursued their tasks beneath the crystal stream, Loud cries again alarm'd the mother's ear, hxvA all the nymphs around were struck with fear. At length from out the river's watery bed Fair Arethusa raised her graceful head. And cried " My sister ! Aristaeus stands, Thy fondest care, on father Peneus' sands. He weeps beneath our fountain's sacred shades, And in harsh words thy cruelty upbraids" — THE FORTUNES OF ARIST.^US. 175 From such new cause for fear the mother sighed, And " bring, oh bring him to my arms'' she cried, " Let him draw near unto our dread abodes, And cross for once the threshold of the gods,'' She said ; and bade the river part his streams, When either side a lofty mountain seems. Thus did the youth thro' towering billows go. And join the expectant crowd that dwelt below — But as he went, he view'd with wond'ring eyes His mother's kingdom and her mansion's size. The groves, whence issued many a pleasing sound. And the vast lakes, within their caverns bound ; There too he saw the rivers of the earth. Each flowing from the fount that gave him birth, He saw whence Phasis and whence Lycus rose, And whence the deep Enipeus onward flows. Whence Anio sends his billows to the main. And whence Caicus laves the Mysian plain, Whence Tyberinus all his waters pours. And Hypanis that down the mountain roars. And last Eridanus, whose golden horn Is wont his savage features to adorn. Than whom no fiercer river pours his floods To the empurpled sea through verdant woods — When he had passed these secret chambers thro', And when Cyrene his vain murmurs knew, Her nymphs place water from the crystal spring Before th' astonished youth and napkins bring ; They load the board, the goblet raise on high. And for the shrines Panchsan flames supply ; 1 7 6 THE FOR TUNES OF ARISTAE US. Then thus exclaims the mother : " Let us pour " In Ocean's honour this Meeonian shower"^ By prayers old Ocean and the nymphs she moves Who rule an hundred streams, an hundred groves ; The nectar thrice she sprinkles on the fire, Thrice to the roof the strengthen'd flames aspire ; That the glad omen the youth's hope renew'd Cyrene saw, and thus her tale pursued : " In the Carpathian gulf old Proteus dwells Who each event or past or future tells, Yoked to his car the biped steed he guides. And on the monsters of the Ocean rides. Now to Emathia's port he wends his way. Eager to see his own Pallene's bay ; Him aged Nereus and we nymphs adore, To him 'tis given the future to explore By fav'ring Neptune, for he tends Anth care The unwieldy sea-calf in his rocky lair. AVhen firmly bound with chains he shall disclose To thee the secret causes of thy woes ; Use force, my son, or nothing shalt thou learn. Tears and entreaties 'tis his wont to spurn. But when a captive in the circling chain The god must yield, for thence escape is vain. " Soon as the sun has gain'd his utmost power. And the parch'd herbage courts the friendly shower, Soon as the cattle fly the scorching heat, I shaU conduct thee to the seer's retreat, "Where oft he loves, when weary, to recline, And there with chains shalt thou his limbs confine. THE FORTUNES OF ARISTA US. 177 Then many an artifice shall he devise, And forms of various beasts shall mock thine eyes, In turn shall he become a tigress dire, A furious dragon armed with scales of fire, And next a bristly boar shall meet thy view, Or savage lioness of tawny hue, Or he shall bellow forth the flames' dread sound. Glide from his bonds, and flow along the ground ; But thou, my son, compress the hamp'ring chain. And let him aye transform himself in vain ; He sHall at length resume the shape once more, In which thou foundst him sleeping on the shore." Thus spake Gyrene and around the head Of her lov'd son ambrosial odours shed. Ethereal fragrance his fair limbs bedew'd, Inspir'd his frame, and all his powers renew'd. Beneath a time-worn cliff there lies a cave. Whither the winds oft drive th' advancing wave. The beetling rocks a spacious inlet form Where frequent barks find shelter from the storm. Here lay old Proteus to their sight reveal'd. And here the anxious nymph her son conceal'd Amongst the crags ; she then retir'd from view. And in a veil of misty clouds withdrew. Now o'er the Indian plains had S)rrius burst, And the bright sun had quench'd but half his thirst. His rays had drained the flowing rivers dry, And parched the herbage 'neath the sultry sky, 1 7 8 THE FOR TUNES OF ARISTAE US. When Proteus rising from the watery bay llnto the well-known grotto took his way ; Him follow all the ocean-race and throw The briny shower around them as they go, While the huge sea-calves on the beach recline, iVnd unto sleep their weary limbs resign. Now, as a shepherd, when bright vesper calls The pastur'd heifers to their mountain-stalls, And when the lambs' loud bleatings from afar Call on the hungry wolves to tempt the war, So Proteus lay within his rocky hold. And of his playful herds the number told. Scarce had the aged prophet sought repose, When Aristseus from the crags arose. With a loud shout he onward rush'd, and cast The griping fetter round, and held him fast. But Proteus, mindful of his power to change, Tried every form or horrible or strange, Now as the roaring flames of fire he glowed, Now as a beast appeared, and now as water flowed. At length he found 'twere vain to hope escape. Owned himself conquered and resumed his shape ; " Bold youth," he said, "incapable of fear ! " U'ho sent thee hither, and Avhat seekst thou here ?" " Proteus, thou knowst," Cyrene's son raphes, '•Thou knowst, for nought eludes thy searching eyes, Cease then to practise these thy wiles on me, For in obedience to a God's decree, I enter thine abodes and supplicate Th}- powerful aid to raise my ruined state" — THE FORTUNES OF AHISTJSUS. 179 He said ; the prophet then with giant might Shot from his eyeballs streams of azure light, Gnash'd his huge teeth, and was at last constrained To show his victor what the Fates ordained : " Vengeance on thee no powerless god demands For crime committed by thy lawless hands ! Orpheus the sad on thee these bitter woes, Yet not proportioned to thy guilt bestows. On thee these sufferings — and just Fate allows — He sends, and fiercely mourns his ravish'd spouse. For when in dread of thy desires unchaste Along the river's marge she fled in haste. The lady, doom'd a hapless death to meet, ' Saw not the serpent coiled beneath her feet. Which on the bank, and eager for its prey. Mid the tall herbage in concealment lay. " The sister-choir of Dryads wailed around, And the high mountains caught the plaintive sound. In tears the rocks of Rhodope deplored. And streams of grief down sorrowing Hebrus poured, Pangseus wept, and Rhoesus' martial plain. The Getae echoed back their shrieks again, And Actian Orithyia joined the mournful strain. " Orpheus himself to soothe love's burning fire Sought consolation from the gladsome l)Te, Apart from men, and by the boisterous sea. Of thee, his beauteous bride, and aye of thee. He sang, when first shone forth the morning light, And when all nature hail'd the approach of night. i8o THE FORTUNES OF ARIST^US. For thee he entered the Tsenarian straits, And passed undaunted Pluto's lofty gates, For thee he dared Hell's dark and gloomy glades, Sought the dread mansions of the paly shades, And saw the god, whose heart 'gainst mercy steel'd To human prayers was never known to yield. " Lo ! as the magic notes through Hades spread Advanced the shadowy' phantoms of the dead — Thus birds by thousands to the grove resort AVhen evening drives them from their mountain-sport — The ghosts of matrons and of heroes slain. Of youths and virgins fill'd yon crowded plain, ^^'^th many an infant, whose confiding smile Had hailed the parent from the funeral pile ; All gathered there round whom Cocytus flows, Whom the dread lake and winding Styx enclose ; Even death's profoundest dungeons were amazed. And the fell Furies' snakes in wonder gazed. For once Ixion's wheel was seen to pause, And Cerberus to close his triple jaws. " Now Orpheus joyfully his steps retraced. And journeyed upward to the earth in haste, Him followed his Eurydice regained — For thus had royal Proserpine ordained — ■\Mien lo ! a sudden phrenzy seiz'd his mind, ('Twas to be pardoned, had the shades inclin'd) Scarce was it theirs the light of day to see Ere he look'd back on his Eurydice ! " Incautious youth ! what shouts were heard to break From the still waters of the Avernian lake. THE FORTUNES OF ARISTjEUS. i8i Soon as with joy the attendant spirits saw The lover violate the tyrant's law ! ' Orpheus, alas !' Eurydice begun, ' Say by what madness are we thus undone ? ' Me to the depths of hell the Fates recall ' And o'er my sight death throws his darkening pall, ' Farewell, farewell, behold me borne away ' For ever from the cheerful light of day, ' Behold me thus my piteous lot deplore, ' And stretch towards thee my feeble hands, ah, thine no more !' " She said, and as through air the smoke-wreath flies Suddenly vanished from his wondering eyes ; He grasped the air and struggled to accost Hapless Eurydice for ever lost ! Hell's grisly guardian he besought in vain To bear him o'er the opposing lake again ; Where should he turn ? what power was his to move The shades to grant him his twice-ravished love ? Her, whom the Stygian boat already bore A lifeless captive to the adverse shore. " For seven long months they say that OqDheus wept Where the bleak rocks by howling blasts are swept, For seven long months where lonely Strymon flows, He brooded o'er his melancholy woes, And by the harmonious music of his lyre Led oaks along and soothed the tiger's ire — — So Philomela, when her nest she finds Of her lov'd offspring robbed by heartless hinds. 1 82 THE FORTUNES OF ARISTEUS. Sits on a bough the shady groves among And through the night renews her doleful song, Loudly she wails, and echo far around The neighbouring woodlands with the plaintive sound- — No hymeneal joys his soul could bend, 'Twas his through northern lands alone to wend. To see where Tanais rolls his waves of snow, And o'er Riphaaan hills of ice to go. But aye his lost Eurydice to sing And the vain favours of the infernal king. " For this neglect the fierce Ciconian dames. Their passions fired by Bacchus' nightly flames, Th' unhappy lover seized in savage mood, Rent his fair limbs and o'er the mountain strew'd ; His head from off the marble neck was torn. And down the stream of rapid Hebrus borne, But even then he cried with faltering breath ' Eurydice,' as closed his life in death, And as he swept along, on either side ' Eurydice' the vocal banks replied" — Thus Proteus spoke and sought his ocean-home, And where he sank, uprose the circling foam ; Not so Cyrene : for in accents mild She thus essayed to calm her sorrowing child ; " My son, all thought of misery now forego. Such is the pregnant source of this thy woe ; The nymphs with whom she joined in mirthful play Hence have thy hives remorseless swept away. Of them seek peace, and with a suppliant air Gifts for these guardians of the woods prepare, THE FORTUNES OF ARISTA US. 183 Then shall they slack their wrath, and grant thy prayer. " But first my son it shall be mine to explain How thou must hope thine object to attain : Select four beauteous bulls that may be seen Grazing for thee Lycaeus' pastures green, With four fair heifers, yet untaught to bow Their virgin necks beneath the weighty plough, For these on high four goodly shrines uprear Where the tall temples of the nymphs appear. Next, from their veins emit the sacred blood And leave the bodies in the shady wood. When the ninth morn her rising beams shall spread, Appease with Lethe's poppies Orpheus dead. Then with a calf and lamb fresh-slaughtered move Eurydice, and hie thee to the grove." Thus said Cyrene : nor her son delays To seek the temple and the shrines upraise, The four fair bulls that cropped the flowery meads. And the four heifers to the fane he leads ; Soon as the ninth Aurora darts her light, Orpheus he honours with the appointed rite. Then quickly to the shady grove he flies — • When lo ! a wonder meets his doubting eyes ! From out the entrails of the victims slain Bees swarm on bees and fill the neighbouring plain ; Sportive they hum the ruptured sides among. Or roll in vast and darkening clouds along, Now flutter round the tree's high top, and now Hang in thick clusters from the bending bough. FROM VIRGIL CONCLUSION OF THE GEORGICS. 'PREES, fields, and cattle thus have been my theme, "W^hilst mighty Cssar at Euphrates' stream Thunders in war, makes willing nations bow. And seeks victorious high Olympus' brow. I, Virgil, then to pleasure's service trained, In Naples' soft voluptuous bowers remained, I, who a youth the pastoral verse essay'd. And sang thee, Tityrus, 'neath the beechen shade. .^NEID, vi., 872—886. ""l Y^HAT groans of men that field shall bear afar To the great city of the God of war. And oh, what funeral pomp it is thy doom, Tiber, to see, as past the recent tomb Thou glidest ! for on none of Trojan line So brightly shall the hopes of Latium shine, FROM VIRGIL. 185 And ne'er with heart so proud another son The land of Romulus shall gaze upon. Alas ! for piety your voices raise, Alas ! and for the faith of ancient days, And that right hand that never knew to yield Mid the red carnage of the battle-field ! AVhere was the foeman that intact of harm 'Scaped from the terrors of the hero's arm, Whether on foot he fought among the ranks. Or pressed with steel the horse's foaming flanks ? Oh, youth, lamented of the good and great, If thou may burst the adverse bonds of fate, Marcellus thou shalt be ! Haste, haste and shower From the full hand the lily's fragrant flower ! It shall be mine above his grave to strew Chaplets and garlands of the purple hue ; Such gifts as these I may at least employ To soothe the spirit of the kinsman boy. And the sad task, though fruitless, still enjoy ! .^NKID, vi., 893, AD FINEM. 'Pwo gates hath sleep, of horn the one is made. And gives free egress to the faithful shade. While through the other which in ivory gleams The gods below send up deceitful dreams. i86 FROM VIRGIL. AVhen old Anchises' tale was at an end He bade his offspring and the sibyl wend Forth from the ivory gate — ^neas then Made for his ships and straight rejoined his men : Along the coast upon his right that lay Into Caieta's port he shapes his way,^ From the high prows the anchors forth are cast, And on the beach the vessels moored at last. FROM SOPHOCLES. 1.— FROM THE CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. V. 151. ']"hou oracle of Jove ! with sound so sweet Say, for what purpose hast thou journeyed here ? Why hast thou left thy treasure-laden seat, The costly temple of the Pythian seer ? I tremble, and my mind is racked with fear — Then Delias, Psean, or whate'er thy name. To me, who aye thy sacred power revere. What new event thou plannest, oh proclaim Say, golden child of hope, imperishable Fame ! Divine Minerva, progeny of Jove, Save us, oh save us, by thy powerful hand. And thou, too, queen Diana, from above Come to our aid, protectress of our land. Who in our forum tak'st thine honoured stand, Upraised aloft on thy resplendent car. Form ye with Phoebus a resistless band. i88 FROM SOPHOCLES. Oh Phoebus, skilled to hurl the dart afar, Lend as of yore thine aid in this destroying war ! Alas, ye Gods ! I bear unnumbered woes, ]\Iy hapless progeny struck down I see, Nor can my troubled spirit aught propose That from our misery may set us free ; The produce of the earth dies wretchedly, The mother at the mournful birth is lost, Many as birds together madly flee, Fiercer than flames they rush a countless host, i Unto the gloomy god that sways the western coast. By these sad deaths our land a loss sustains, AVhole generations still unburied lie Upon yon hateful and disastrous plains Without due honour to their memory ; Widows and aged mothers onward hie To where yon altars grace the rising ground, Imploring with one voice the Deity To expel the woes that compass them around. And ever and anon is heard the Psan's sound. Oh therefore, child of Jove, fair Rescue send, And drive this grievous pestilence away, Compel him hence his ruthless steps to bend. For now, his shield cast off, he seeks the affray. And armed with cries of terror and dismay. FROM SOPHOCLES. 189 At mom destroys what night to Hfe has given ; Then let him to the boisterous Thracian bay, Or Amphitrite's ocean bowers be driven, Or with thy dreaded hghtning whelm him, king of Heaven. Thee too, oh Lycius, fain would I behold On our behalf employ thy deadly bow, And Artemis the shafts with which of old She thro' the Arcadian hills was wont to go, Lord of the golden crown ! remove our woe, Friend of the Msnades, and god of wine. To whom the surname of our land we owe. Flourish aloft thy glaring torch of pine. And drive away the god unworthy seats divine. V. 453. "VyHO is the man whom the Delphian god Declares to have done an unspeakable deed ? 'Tis time that he leave his accursed abode, And rival the swift-footed courser in speed ; For upon him in ire. And brandishing fire. The Thunderer's offspring prepares to descend, While against whom nor wails. Nor entreaty prevails, The Fates their assistance are ready to lend. I go FROM SOPHOCLES. From snowy Parnassus a voice is departed Commanding each mortal to aid the endeavour, For lonely the murderer roams broken-hearted, And brute-like abides in the caverns for ever. Thus the voice that hath birth In the centre of earth Hath aye been unable to whelm him with ill. But with all its dread power In every long hour It hovers around him and threatens him still. Oh, fearfully by his ambiguous words Yon infallible augur hath troubled my mind, So that nought which assent or denial affords, Can I in my dreadful uncertainty iind. In doubt as I rest I hope for the best, No relief can the past or the future propose. Nor does rumour assign Any quarrel of thine ^Vith the people, my king, as the source of our woes The foul breath of calumny hath not as yet Of QSdipus tarnished the glory and fame, \\\\o the perishing Thebans from mystery's net To free in the time of necessity came ; Though Apollo and Jove From their mansions above FROM SOPHOCLES. 191 The actions of mortals are able to scan, I shall ever deny- That greater than I A prophet exists in the judgment of man. Though one than another more skilful may be, I care not, and till this dark tale be displayed In the colours of truth, I shall never agree With those who on him their suspicion have laid ; Wise was he, and bold In that contest of old. When the Sphynx in confusion abandoned her place ; Aye, then did he prove For our country his love. And shall never by me be regarded as base. V. 853. (~)h that it were my daily fate To support the hallowed state Of words and deeds that have on high Their stabHshed dwelling in the sky ! Each law that rules them comes from heaven. And great Olympus for their sire is given — To the nature of man They owe not their birth. Oblivion shall never O'erwhelm them on earth. 192 FROM SOPHOCLES. Within them a deity Dwelleth subhme, And they shall be ever Uninjured by time — The hated tyrant springs from pride, And pride, when filled with wantonness. Oft dashes o'er the mountain-side, And falls to darkness and distress ; But oh, may Heaven guide rightly now This strife to benefit the land, Then ever more be this my vow To hold the gods my guardian band ; And these if any one proceed To injure or by word or deed, Unawed by justice, or the might That frowns from dread Olympus' height. Bear, venging Fates, the wretch away, And thus his insolence repay, Save he resume an honoured part, Practise no more unhallowed art. And set not on forbidden things his heart — If deeds as these be known to thrive, AVhat mortal man mil care to strive 'Gainst passion's darts of fire ? If deeds as these be once esteemed Holy, and honorable deemed. Why need I lead the choir ? Never indeed shall I again Visit the sacred Delphic fane, FROM SOPHOCLES. 193 Or Aba's oracle divine, Or the far-famed Olympic shrine, Until the truth made known I see Of this deep hidden mystery — Oh Jove, if thou, as men suppose. Art king and lord supreme on high. We pray thee, let not these our woes Escape tliine all observing eye ; Thy prophecies declared of yore Concerning Laius are no more, Apollo's honours sink into decay. And all things great and heavenly fade away ! v. 1076. Tf aught of prescience dwell in me. If 'tis mine to guess aright, Thou, Cithsron, shalt not be By to-morrow's favoured light Unhonoured in the choral song by us. Mother, protectress, friend of CEdipus ! Since unto our much loved lord Once Cithaeron brought relief. Do thou thy favour now accord, Phoebus, healer of our grief ! My king, no humble habitant of earth E'er called thee son — a goddess gave thee birth ! 13 194 FROM SOPHOCLES. Some virgin daughter of the gods, Or celestial nymph, I ween, In his mountainous abodes Dallying with Pan hath been — Haply the honour of thy birth sustains iVpoUo, guardian of the rural plains ! Was it Mercury, who sways High Cyllene's rocky steep ? Or Bacchus, who his festal days On the upland loves to keep ? Say, did he mould thee with some lovely one Of the fair nymphs that sport on Helicon ? V. 1176. A LAS, the hapless race of men While yet in life I hold as nought — What wretched man could ever gain More of enjoyment than the thought ? I call none happy here below, Warned, CEdipus, by thy dread fate. For bitter care and grief and woe Shall alway vex thy future state. With the triumphant archer's skill Thou bor'st away the bhssful prize, Thy part it was, successful still, To slay the Sphinx of monstrous size'; IE. SONNET TO GAMMER GURTON. _^H, Gammer Gurton, what a wytte hast thou ! In soothe a ladye of a propere wytte — Yflowne thoe chyldhoode's years I heare thee yet Nowe syngynge of ye syxpence songe, and nowe Of babye fallynge from ye brokenne boughe, Or blacke, woolle cladde, dyscrymynatynge sheepe, Or hym whoe loste hys flocke, ye small Bopeepe, Or Tomme whoe stole ye offe-shoote of ye sowe. Jacke Homerre, too quaynte chylde of gluttonye, ' My fancye pleasethe welle, bot I confesse Me moste contente when I recalle wyth glee Thy keene replye, and couchedde in happye dresse, Touchynge ye herrynges in ye woode that be ; Marrye ! thou soldest there hym of ye Wyldemesse ! SONNET TO MY OWN EYEBROW. T ET fools their smoothly gliding verses write, And praise the eyebrow of their ladie fair, No ladie's eyebrow claims my love-bom care, So to my own a Sonnet I indite — An arch that overhangs an eye so bright. Of such a dazzling radiance and rare, That he on whom I chance in wrath to stare Averts in terror his bewildered sight ! Aye, I believe 'tis even in my power To draw the cork from out the bottled wine, So potent is my gaze, and if I lower Upon the milk-jug with these eyes of mine, That instant doth the stricken milk turn sour, Then, haU, thou eyebrow, covering eye divine ! WHO BREAKS A BUTTERFLY UPON. A WHEEL? Pope. 5 HALL I 'gainst lying Codms bring A suit because with slanderous sting He fails my heart to vex ? Forth should the creature scatheless go ! And why ? because " curat" you know, " De minimis non lex." ** H-'UiK ! the lark at heaven's gate sings" — Thus Shakspeare told of yore, And the brief line before us brings. A fact unknown before ; The fast ones who in sprees embark To piety are given, For when they're out upon a lark. They're very near to heaven ! ENIGMA. pAST flowed the blood In a purple flood, From the wound all reeking and iiesh, On the fatal day AMien we tore him away From the folds of his parent flesh ; And little did we in our merriment heed ^\^lat anguish we gave by the murderous deed. Unto the rippling brook we bore Our victim, and cleansed of the staining gore, And we held him down in the sandy bed, And the foaming stream dashed over his head ; And when in the beam of the mid-day sun. We held him on high, his form to see, 'Twas a pure clear skin that we looked upon, And soft as a newly-bath'd babe may be. Then we raised to our lips that glassy skin, And the rushing of winds was heard within, ENIGMA. 271 For we blew (though not with the breath of scorn In triumph over his state forlorn) — • W^ blew, and we watch'd each wandering vein Till it well nigh burst with the swelling strain, And yet no cry of pain gave he, Not once did he writhe in his agony. Then we call'd for a cord, and we drew it tight Around his neck with relentless might, In a cold dank prison we forc'd him away, And forbade him the light of the cheerful day. And then o'er our captive long and loud We laughed, as he lay in his humid shroud. For our toils were o'er, and our work was done, And our sport was only now begun. We toss'd him to, and we toss'd him fro. We dash'd him here, and we kick'd him there. Now on the earth he was lying low, ' And now he was whirling aloft in air ; Yet still of his pain Would he not complain. For perchance he knew that we, Though shouts of joy We rais'd on high. Were suffering more than he ; For we'd many a bruised and battered limb. And blood was drawn, though not from him. But all earthly things must end at last. And so when the goal of our game was past, 272 ENldMA. We halted in our play ; And our ill-used friend in a corner thrown We left o'er his varied fate to moan, Until another day Shall find us once more in a sportive vein, When'we'U bid him come forth and ill-use him again. CHARADES. T Trg'd by my first. Sir Fitz is gone To win a name in arms, And earn the kindly smile of one, Whose beauty when he thinks upon, His heart within him warms. Yet, ah ! disastrous is the fight. For soon unto the ground From his good steed the luckless knight Is borne, and in his valor's spite Is in my second bound. But see amid th' exulting foe The rallied squadrons pour ; Swift is the pace, and sure the blow, The late victorious are laid low. Sir Fitz is free once more ! CHARADES. Then speeds he home, for chivalry No longer fires his soul , He weds— so let us hope that he Thro' long and happy years may bi Encircled by my whole. CHARADES. 275 IL TJnder the depths of the ocean wave My first long hidden lay, Till man in his dauntless daring gave The gem to the light of day ; And he valued the gains of his bold emprise, And unto his ladie fair He bore it, an offering to her bright eyes. And it shone in her raven hair. Not lying in ocean, but rooted in earth Ye must for my second look ; In the woodland soil it boasts its'birth. And its place by the rippling brook ; And its tresses droop graceful the waters o'er. And rustle a mournful strain ; And poets have sung it in days of yore. And poets shall sing it again. More lowly than these is my whole and mean;. But its form is unknown to me. Yet it brightens what was before unclean And is prized in its degree ; 18—2 276 CHARADES. Of the wondrous powers within it that dwell It is not mine to say, But tho' I may not its virtues tell, Perchance there be those that may, Oh, yes, if we may not its virtues tell, Our washerwoman may. CHARADES. 277 III. J CLIMBED the rugged mountain side And journeyed thro' my first. From the break of day I had held my way An hungered and athirst ; But tho' a-weary and much foot-sore, One thought would my soul sustain, I should see my native land once more, And loving friends again. Oh, happy chance ! oh, lucky hour ! My second was by my side. And soon I felt by its cheering power New life, new hope supplied ; And I recked but little of toils before. And of past toils nothing then, For I cried : I shall see my home once more. And loving friends again. I reached the distant city's gate. And joy'd in my inmost soul. When — curses deep on my bitter fate-^ They asked me for iny whole! 278 CHARADES. I had it not — the dungeon floor Resounds to my clanking chain — And I sigh I shall ne'er see my country more, Nor loving friends again ! CHARADES. 279 IV. J N the rude old days' now long gone by From the regions of the North, Where snow-clad mountains pierce the sky, I pour'd my legions forth ; And my band was firmly knit as my name, For my first and my second are one and the same. Over the hill and over the plain AVe march'd to far Cathay, And the foeman fought, but, ha ! 'twas vain To resist our brave array ! For not in our ranks shone dissension's flame- - Like my two parts we were one and the same. The Seric troops in their terror fled. We were left in our triumph alone, And my warriors plac'd a crown on my head, And I sat on a royal throne ; Our union won us the daring game, For like my two parts we were one and the same ! 280 CHARADES. And what is my first l the mariner sees Its power to his bark applied, And then by the planks is the whistling breeze And the roaring wave defied; And if ye should seek for its humble name, Then know that it is — as my second the same. CHARADES. V. '^[x first to all the bright and fair Who cheer our gloomy life below, ' Smoothe the deep-furrowed brow of care, And teach us purest joys to know ! And should a sorry wretch be found The merits of those fair to scorn, May he, upon my second bound, Unpitied, limb from limb be torn. When morning o'er the mountain steals, And health is borne upon the blast, Man then the call of hunger feels. And hastens to the sweet repast ; Oh, give 7ny whole to him, and mark The joy that glistens in his eyes. Soon as the flame-dried food and dark He sees within that whole that lies. . CHARADES. VL 'Trusty art thou Of the honest brow, And faithful all friends above, Hardly my first My infancy nurs'd With a fonder and purer love. And now thou art old Shall I prove a-cold, And spurn thee from my door ? No — heaven forbid That ever I did Ingratitude so sore ! I'll make thee a feast Of the richest and best. And give thee thy full desire ; Not on the cold stones Shalt lay thy bones, But beside the blazing fire. CHARADES. 283 If poem or song Could thy days prolong, Thou shouldst ne'er be without an hymn, And lyric and ode Should be freely bestow'd, With a sonnet to every limb. The goblet I'll raise. And I'll chant thy praise, And drink, my old friend, to thee ; And every draught. Reverentially quaff' d. My second and strong shall be ! And when thou art laid In the home of the dead. Oh, freely the tear shall fall On the stone that records The mysterious words : Here lies what was truly my all! 284 CHARADES. VII. Qh, sad was the heart of the ladie bright, And her grief was wearie to bear ! She shrunk from the sun-beam's flaunting light, And the day's ungenial glare. But when the moon on her lonelie bower In balmie radiance burst, And breath'd around a softening power. How welcome \Yas, -my first .' And then would she think of the fickle knight ' Who had left her weeping there, While he bask'd in the shine of a smile more bright And worshipp'd a face more fair. And then would she make much bitter moan. And many a tear would shed. For she was, alas, in my second thrown, And her joy in life was fled ! CHARADES. 285 Love brooks not slight ; that ladie fair Bethought her of my whole, And to free her from earthHe pain and care She drank of the deadhe bowl ! 'Twas told to the knight, and he laughed outright, And wink'd with his wicked eye : " 'Tis flattering, I ween — but the maid was green " For the love of me to die !" 286 CHARADES. VIII. In -which is contained the diverting and instructive history of the feud t)etween a gallant Knight and a Baron bold. I. — YE PREPARATION. 'pHE castle gates are open wide, And 'midst a warrior throng, A gallant knight, Sir Ronald hight. Steps fearlesslie along. Pride ye may spy in Sir Ronald's eye. His foot is firm and firee, And he looks uncommonly like what he is, A knight of high degree ! And well liketh he that day to see Such sign of his lordlie state, As he wendeth along before the throng, And forth from the castle gate. Upon the plain a goodlie train Is marshalled in array, And faulchions beam, and halberts gleam In the glorious light of day ; CHARADES. 287 For a baron bold from his castle-hold My second hath sent to say That he bears in spite that gallant knight, And dares him to the fray. And merrilie beats Sir Ronald's heart, And he joys that news to hear, And he calls straightway for his war-array, Helmet, and shield, and spear. 2. — YE WAITING. He leads his men to the rookie glen In the earlie morning time. To meet the foe when the hour of ten Shall go by the abbey chime. And the time flies by, and none may spy A sign of the Baron's power, And all is still on the neighbouring hill. And wearilie lags the hour. Now haste thee, haste thee, my henchman good. And run as a henchman may. And bear thee hence to the distant wood, And all the land survey ; And my little foot-page, a boy of your age, Can run with the speed of Hght, So haste and try if ye may spy A sign of the coming fight. ; CHARADES. Ride, ride, my squire, at my desire, And, an thou bring to me The news that his band is near at hand, The spurs shall thy guerdon be. On the faith of his sword he hath pass'd his word, And yet, though the hour be noon, I may not be told that a Baron bold Shall prove a coward loon. 3. YE MEETING. Hark ! thro' the dell o'er the mountain fell The sounds of the trumpet roll. And striking clear on the startled ear High rises aloft my whole! And shields are grasp'd, and hilts are clasp'd, And each the welcome fray ■With savage glee awaits, yet he His arm perforce must stay, For TOth trusty brand in good right hand The chiefs with dauntless air Step forth to stand before that band. And win or perish there. Again is heard the trumpet-sound, And then the warriors twain ■\Vith a terrible clash together dash, And the blows fall down like rain. CHARADES. 289 So have we seen two mountain bulls With furious front engage, While all around the woods resound Their madding cries of rage ; Or as two ancient beldames when Each other they assail, In her good cause each plies her claws, And goes it tooth and nail. 4. YE APOSTROPHE. Oh, my ^dA first ! thou art the proof Of man's degraded state ; The savage fight is a sorrie sight Of human strength and hate. Thou art a pain and mortal bane. All evils spring from thee, The widow's groans, the orphan's moans And the mother's misery. The father rank'd against the son. The brother 'gainst the brother. As gold or pride the heart may guide, Or envy of another. The woodland shorn, the purpl'd brook. All fairest things defac'd, And the corn-field, ripe for reaping-hook. By reaping-sword laid waste, 19 zgo CHARADES. The batter'd walls, the roofless halls, The blood-besprinkled keep — Till the blazing town comes rattling down And lies a formless heap. Yet my sSid Jirsf, we may not say Thou art not wiselie sent. For join'd in thee at once we see The crime and punishment ! 5. YE CATASTROPHE. Oh, fiercelie fought the chieftains twain, And waxed the combat warm, Till the Baron's brand from his failing hand Was forc'd by Sir Ronald's arm ; And the knight laid low his lordlie foe Y-stricken on the crown, And just as Crib has been seen to fib. He fibbed him when he was down ! And greater yet was the Baron's dismay, For Sir Ronald did nothing by halves ; He dusted him well about mid-way 'Twixt his lordship's shoulders and calves ; And as for his bellows, I've heard the fellows Lying sub ciiltro at Guy's, But I'm ready to swear never rung thro' the air Such arch-dKmoniacal cries ! CHARADES. The brawl was sped, the Baron ne'er From that unluckie day, Though still in spite he holds the knight, Has dared him to the fray ; And when friend or foe a hint may throw Of the fight in the rockie glen, The Baron's chagrin is palpably seen. And he sits uneasilie then. 291 19- =92 CHARADES. IX. By a Cavalier. "Rv right divine he ruled the land As ruled his sires before, Till thro' the realm a crop-ear'd band Rebellion's standard bore ; For evil men in evil day Drew forth the godless sword ' And \owed the impious vow to slay The Anointed of the Lord ! They have conquer'd in the bloody storm That band of men accurs'd — And they have seiz'd his kingly form And led him to my first ; My second they have sworn shall be No longer his to wear, And bidden him (foul impiety !) To kneel him down in prayer. CHARADES. 293 Oh ! tho' his cheek with grief is wan, No woman-fear he knows : He kneels and he prays with the holy man For mercy on his foes ; " Remember" — 'twas in solemn tone — The latest word he said — And he who own'd a royal throne Was number'd with the dead ! Repentance follows in the track Of brute misguided force, And tho' we may call not his spirit back Nor heal that mangled corse. Who makes not his voice indignant heard To mark the sorrowing soul. Like him who fails to guess my word, I brand him as my whole .' ^0-1 CHARADES. X. At the Suggestion of Mrs. H., for Solution by Mrs. S. (~)h dear, how very comforting without a letter more, My first would be When the wind blows free. And whistles cold and frore ; I'd \vrap my hands within its folds to keep them snug and warm. And laugh right out, Nor care about The raging of the storm. Oh dear, how very pleasant if it had a letter more. My second Would be reckon'd ; \\^hen I gain'd the friendly door, ^ I'd bid them bring the cheering leaf within its china bowl, And to complete The cosy treat, I'd swallow down my •whole. CHARADES. 295 XL At the Suggestion of Mrs. S., for Solution by Mrs. H. T LOVED, and loving, resolved to pop,^ As I sate with my ladie dear. In a snug little corner of Gunter's shop, And whispered my first in her ear. She blushed, and my second was dropp'd from her clutch, — She was eager upon it before — But the word I had spoken bewilder'd her much. And she thought of my second no more. Two loving hearts were that day made fast, Two beings bound soul to soul,] And ere thro' the door of that shop we pass'd An order we gave for my whole. 296 CHARADES. XII. IWfY whole a nobler strain demands Than it is mine to give, And yet with me its memory Shall aye, tho' songless, live ; 'Twas there my childhood's moments flew, There sped my boyhood's days. There Nature's beauty first I knew, And sang my earliest lays. Time's sand rolls on — I love it still, For never to my heart Can other soil in Britain's isle An equal sense impart. — ■ And though, dear spot, a lofty strain Thou mayst not win from me. Here from afar the cup I'll drain, And waft a thought to thee. Fill, fill again — the tropic flame Makes suffering man athirst, Or, what's in other phrase the same, He ever is my first ! CHARADES. 297 Oh, when I wandered at my will Thro' rippling bum, o'er lawn and hill. And eager would tho' vainly try To ensnare the painted butterfly, Or mark'd the perch's serrate form, And strove to tempt him with a worm, Or watch'd the wasp's bink in the dyke, ' As they " bizz'd oot wi' angry fyke," And waited till within their nest They'd taken to their evening rest, When Merrick's powder blew them high. Combs, cells, and honey to the sky. Or when amid the covert rocks We hid in ambush for the fox. Who, conscious of our hostile plan, Lurk'd in my second, and began The crafty Fabian game to play. And conquer us by long delay. Till we in sour despondent mood Left with slow steps the ungrateful wood ; Or when with comrades now forgot. Or whom the long, long seas divide, I joined in many an urchin plot, A woodland walk, or highway ride. Then — happiness was mine — and now ! But stay — what boots it to reflect On vanish'd hope and slighted vow. On weak resolve and purpose wreck'd ? For thoughts as these not this the time When I would weave the idle rhyme, 298 CHARADES. The rhyme that seeks its only meed In the brief smile of those that read. Enough — yet ere my pen I throw Aside, I would that ye should know My whole once had another form — A man in whom life's blood was warm, Whose lyre was tuned to sweeter lays Than sound in these degenerate days. Who sang of music, war, and love, Whose song BcEOtian souls might move. Who made a Roman poet's name Shine brighter on the scroll of fame, And knew unto a Briton's heart The patriot's virtue to impart. Oh ! had he flourish'd in these times. In place of my incondite rhymes, His verse had given the "groves of oak"* A higher fame than those that spoke With the prophetic voice of Jove Whilom in deep Dodona's Grove. * Scott, Lay of the Last Minstrel, vi, 23. EPIGRAM Of which the source will be found in the Blue Book, giving the evidence taken before the Parliamentary Committee that sat on China affairs in 1847. "VyHAT makes the Holy City increase, And depresses the Island town ? Says the great Lucullus — the marriage fees, And other inventions — but chiefly these Keep a suffering colony down. How many an amorous pair have I known For gentle dalliance ripe, When Government down on its fees has flown. And tried an extortionate game of its own, And put out the bridegroom's pipe. " Gadzooks ! there shall be no marrying here," The Governor wrathfully said, " I shall put on a fee to make marrying dear, " And the swain must away with his bridal fere To Macao, an he wish to be wed." 30O EPIGRAM. 'Tis hard to believe — says the chief — but I vow The marriage fee ruins the town ; May I never tell truth, if I don't tell it now ! It is this that causes the rise of Macao, And keeps the Colony down. \Exit ingenuous witness — with his to7igue in hit cheek — and lene susurrmis: It is this that causes the rise of Macao, And keeps our Colony down.] A FRENCH EPIGRAM. An energetic Father took forcible possession of a Temple on Chusan, and turned it into a dwelling-place for himself. The proceeding naturally caused remonstrance and discussion, but the French Consul at Shanghai supported the Padre. The Chan- cellor, a man of letters, shook his head, but being a subordinate, shook it vainly. He made, however, a merry thrust at the soldier of the Church in the following epigram : "Monsieur Damien" — the priest was a native of Picardy — " ]\/[oNSiEUR Damien, il suit le meilleur des methodes, " II convertit peu de pagans, mais il convertit leur pagodes" Which may be thus rendered : It isn't too much to assert Our priest's a superlative plan : If pagans he cannot convert, Oh, their pagodas he can ! ^^m ^^%-^ mM ^^M EPIGRAM On Chun Aling, the second chief of the rebels who held. Shanghai in 1853 — 4. He had been employed in the stables of a well-known English merchant, and hence was always spoken of among foreigners as " Skinner's horse-boy.'' P^ow odd to find both far and near Strange union oft effected 'Twixt things that quite incongruous are ! We've here, for instance, horse and war ^Vith Skinner's name connected. Nor here alone — point we our course To India — 'twould appear The chance remark has double force — In India we have Skiniitr's Horse, And Skinner's horse-boy here ! ON AN INKSTAND, Made of the hoof of the celebrated Buckstone ; a horse bred by Mr. Merry of Belladrum, and wuiner of the Ascot Gold Cup 1863, after a dead heat with Tim WhifBer. He ran third for the Derby, and second for the St. Leger 1862, winning a /500 match against Kjiowsley at the Newmarket 2nd October meeting of that year. He also won the Claret Stakes at Newmarket 1863, with the Stewards' Cup at Chester, and a sweepstakes (w.o.) at Goodwood in the same year. He was by Voltigeur out of Burlesque, by Touchstone out of Maid of Honor. Exported to Hongkong he made no further appearance, but died there in 1865. Who late on heaths and upland plains Dared fortune's smiles or frowns, After his early death attains To other ups and downs; In many a noble contest matched, The pet of sporting men, He aids, tho' now for ever scratched, The scratchings of the pen ; 304 ON AN INKSTAND. The horse, that once out-vied the wind, And pride of place could boast, Still from his foot leaves marks behind That bear them to the post ; Free as the air the prize he sought, And bounded o'er the lea, And fitly now promotes the thought Of others to run free ; His litter left, and come to grief. He still assumes a part — Named from a literary chief — In literary art. The breath of slander could not touch This equine Man of Ross, Who yet — the turns of fate are such — Assists to make a cross ; And hangers-on, who won their stake And hook'd their pot, would vow 'Twere sad to see him brought to make Pot-hooks and hangers now. Yes, famous steed, it must stir up Pain in the breasts of some. To think of him who won The Cup, A cup himself become ! ON AN INKSTAND. 305 Time was when loud huzza and hip Foretold thy victoria, When heading Knowsley in the dip — The dip is now in thee ! Thou that thro' very pluck didst win To change of luck must yield, By turf thou'rt laid on, not agin, But underneath the field; Once fools at thee would set their cap To lose thereby— or gain, But now, alas ! 'tis thy mishap 'Y\\Q. foolscap fair to stain ; But possibly thy spirit now Is roaming with the Gods — If man to beast a soul allow — So Buckstone, uihafs the odds ! And on this relic, honest horse, , Who is not proud to look ? Whilst thou shalt, having run thy course. Still help to make a book ! to %mU, Speeches on Public AfFairs of the last Twentj' Years. By the Right Hon. John Bright, M. P. 390 pages, beautifully printed, is. 4d. ; in cloth, IJ'. lod. [A singularly cheap Book. *** SECOND EDITION, this day, containing Mr. Bright's recent famous Speech oji the Irish Churchy Artemus "Ward's Lecture at the Egyptian Hall. With 36 Pictures from the Panorama. Edited \>y T. W. Robertson (Author of 'Caste,' 'Ours,' 'School,' 'Society,' &c.) and E. P,. Kingston (Author of ' The Genial Showman '). 4to. gilt edges, ts. *^* A most entertaining hooTt. The Genial Showman : being Reftiiniscences of a Showman's Career in the Western World. By E. P. Kingston. 2 vols. 8vo. [Immediately. A Tale for a Chimney Corner, and other Essays. By Leigh Kunt. 350 pages, beautifully printed, price is. 4^/. j in cloth, IJ. lod. On the Choice of Books : an Address to Young Men. By Thomas Carlyle. Price is, ; in cloth, is. dd. %* A new edition, very much enlarged (with Memoir and Anecdotes of the A uihor) of this tnost interesting work, whiclt slwilld be read and reread by every young man in the three kingdoms. Hans Breitmann's Barty, and other Droll Ballads. 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