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 Cornell University Library 
 PR 5519.S25 1883 
 
 Poems, chiefly composed during 1882-83. 
 
 3 1924 013 556 836 
 
PR 
 
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/cu31924013556836 
 
POEMS. 
 
POEMS : 
 
 CHIEFLY COMPOSED DURING 1882-83. 
 
 JOSEPH SYKES. 
 
 (JULIO). 
 
 BRIGHTON : 
 Pkinted by J. G. Bishop, "Hbeaid" Office. 
 
 1883. 
 
^.^')^•s■oO! 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 Page. 
 
 I. 
 
 Conception of Death 
 
 I 
 
 2. 
 
 Detached Thoughts 
 
 15 
 
 3- 
 
 Love's Dawning 
 
 21 
 
 4- 
 
 Youthful Ambition 
 
 24 
 
 5- 
 
 New Year, 1882 
 
 26 
 
 6. 
 
 On Baudelaire's Fleurs du Mal- 
 
 29 
 
 7- 
 
 Reverie 
 
 33 
 
 8. 
 
 Struggles 
 
 34 
 
 9- 
 
 Tyranny of Inclination 
 
 36 
 
 lO. 
 
 Classical Views of Age 
 
 38 
 
 II. 
 
 The Modern Politician 
 
 42 
 
 12. 
 
 Cup of Tea 
 
 44 
 
 13- 
 
 Excitement 
 
 47 
 
 14. 
 
 Looking Back 
 
 50 
 
 15- 
 
 Contrasts 
 
 52 
 
 16. 
 
 Spring 
 
 54 
 
 17- 
 
 To Victor Hugo 
 
 56 
 
 18. 
 
 Wishes 
 
 59 
 
 19. 
 
 Providence 
 
 62 
 
IV. CONTENTS 
 
 Page. 
 
 20. Law of Kindness - 64 
 
 21. Eligiacs - - 67 
 
 22. The New Year, 1883 75 
 
 23. On the Birth of a Daughter - 78 
 
 24. Day of Baptism 81 
 
 25. On the Death of a Young Girl - 84 
 
 26. Meditations on Death (i, 2, 3, 4)- 89 
 
 27. First Hour of a New Year 95 
 27. On Hearing a Lady Sing 98 
 
 Translations. 
 
 29. L'Ange et l' Enfant (from the 
 
 French of Reboul) loi 
 
 30. La Mort (from Madame Tastu) 103 
 
 31. King of the Seven Mountains 
 
 (from the German) 106 
 
 32. A Vision of Repose (from the 
 
 Spanish of Espronceda) 109 
 
FOEMS. 
 
 THE CONCEPTION OF DEATH AND 
 ITS INFLUENCE ON THOUGHT. 
 
 I. The Classical Epoch, 
 
 'TJ\ I RST lesson to mankind ! that fleeting breath 
 
 Must yield to the extinguisher of death ! 
 Unwelcome, doubtless, for each instinct gives 
 Joy in the present that so brightly lives. 
 Ages rolled on, and high philosophy 
 Aspired the hidden cause of all to see. 
 In mortal issues principles it sought 
 And wide experience to that centre brought. 
 Vain was the search, for e'en the wisest mind 
 Is to the mist-enshrouded future blind — 
 Better to leave poetic fancy's play 
 Enwreath with flowers of mortal steps the way. 
 If all that charms must cease, ^Aen, to enjoy 
 Is wiser than with cares our peace destroy. 
 
2 POEMS. 
 
 Then to this picture accessories came : 
 Life's torch exhaled its fragrant breathing flame ; 
 The classic porch, the temple's faultless shrine, 
 Made man's existence vividly to shine ; 
 The athlete's struggle ; mimic war's alarm ; 
 All that could sense indulge or fancy charm. 
 The courtesan, with her accomplished art, 
 In classic Greece formed of man's life a part ; 
 The palm of eloquence, the poet's crown, 
 The victor's triumph, whilst applause rained 
 down. 
 
 Thought travelled onwards, and an emblem 
 
 showed 
 How all that lives must bear its destined load. 
 A youth, with torch extinguished, gave the sign 
 That each, in turn, must vital force resign ; 
 And yet again, by Nature's power renewed. 
 That torch, relighted, burns still unsubdued. 
 The myth had beauty, 'twas a symbol rare 
 Of those dread forces which no mortal spare ; 
 Yet which, with vigour's sap renewed, shall rise, 
 And struggle onwards to ambition's prize. 
 
CONCEPTION OF DEATH. 3 
 
 Climb wisdom's pinnacle, or joyous play 
 In grove where Syrens wile the hours away ! 
 From out mortality fresh life will start, 
 And thus renewed will play its destined part. 
 Great scheme of being, heralding the way 
 To progress, flashing into brighter day ! 
 And many, doubtless, happy were, who saw 
 Life bloom beneath great Nature's flexile law. 
 Theirs was the Temple, and the Forum's life, 
 And all th' exciting turns of party strife ! 
 Closed by a night of calm and solemn sleep, 
 Where no obtrusive echoes vigil keep, 
 And then Elysian fields for good and great, 
 From Pluto's darksome realms redeemed by 
 Fate. 
 
 Go back to Athens, 'neath a southern sky, 
 Gazing on temples' faultless symmetry, 
 Whilst Oratory's triumphs thrilled the ear. 
 And fateful Drama's lines resounded clear, 
 Life rolled its course in waves of sunny light, 
 Though death's cloud hovered like impending 
 night — 
 
4 POEMS. 
 
 For none escape the stern decree of Fate, 
 That power above the gods, immaculate ! 
 Survey the Roman, with his sterner mould 
 And tougher fibre ; enterprising, bold ; 
 Death's shadow is to him an enemy 
 To dare in combat, nor ignoble flee. 
 Virtue is courage ; he the noblest man 
 Who meets his fate with constancy of plan ; 
 His aim, a mind that knows no trace of fear, 
 E'en when the dreaded image hovers near. 
 Hellenic intellect refined the theme, 
 Investing death with attributes that seem 
 Like olives' foliage in their sombre grace. 
 Whilst sun-set glories lights and shadows trace. 
 Each through the medium of his feelings sought 
 To teach the mind to reason as it ought ; 
 Life's gifts to prize, and, when the moment 
 
 came, 
 All to resign — as sinks the expiring flame. 
 " Ask for a soul that knows not fear of death." 
 A noble prayer ; for the mind cherisheth 
 Regrets too oft for pleasure that deceives. 
 Or for some fancied good unwisely grieves. 
 
CONCEPTION OF DEATH. 5 
 
 Make man immortal. Say, what should we find ? 
 A stunted race, degenerately blind 
 To progress — evil dominant, and nought 
 Of new-born energy to graft on thought — 
 Impunity of selfishness, and all 
 The ills increased which higher natures thrall. 
 No strong, fresh current, sweeping weeds away, 
 No darkness vanquished by the new-born day ; 
 For some, th' epicurean's paradise, 
 Crowded with all a worldly taste finds nice — 
 Sense ever treading in the same dull round, 
 By circle of its dim perceptions bound — 
 But for the many, labour, care, and pain. 
 And toil for bread, so often sought in vain ! 
 Contempt of life, to serve one's country's cause, 
 Was the ideal aimed at by the laws 
 Of those old classic lands, and fruit it bore, 
 As Codrus proved, and patriot heroes, more 
 Than memory counts, for all had not the lot 
 In deathless record ne'er to be forgot. 
 Yes ! and the feeling still survives— its call 
 Sends forth the thousands who relinquish all 
 Life's pleasures blooming 'neath a sunny sky 
 That their land's banner may victorious fly ; 
 
POEMS. 
 
 The point of honour, too, in many a land, 
 Bids once-joined friends in mortal combat stand. 
 
 To some the term of life seems all too late, 
 Madly they rush nearer to bring its date. 
 Unequal, biting ills or shame to bear, 
 When mis-directed passions bring despair. 
 Disgust will come when pleasure's fruit is pressed 
 Too eagerly, and all its juice expressed. 
 Nought then remains but to desert the scene 
 Where all seems brown, that once was budding 
 
 green. 
 A false philosophy, in truth, yet one 
 That has its specious side when pleasure's gone. 
 It may be well for youthful minds to scan 
 The classic writer's estimate of man. 
 Whose lines, immortal, breathe of sunny skies 
 And that instinctive cheerfulness which lies 
 O'er lapping gloom-fraught estimates of life, 
 Its doubtful future and its present strife ; 
 And so beyond that mist-clad land forlorn, 
 A larger creed insensibly is born. 
 
CONCEPTION OF DEATH. 7 
 
 Survey the past ; how man has left his trace 
 Where erst stretched out but lonely Nature's 
 
 space. 
 The pyramids, the temples of the East, 
 The buried cities, thro' whose streets had ceased 
 For centuries the tread and voice of man, 
 Once so exuberant in Life's daily plan ; 
 We see of time the awful besom sweep, 
 As generations o'er destruction weep. 
 
 2. The Christian Epoch. 
 
 rpHE view is changed — as centuries have 
 
 rolled, 
 A new-born creed its symbol doth unfold ; 
 Simple at first— the human and divine 
 In close embrace their elements combine. 
 But soon, with lapsing years, fresh legends 
 
 came, 
 Engrafted on devotion's purer flame ; 
 For priests oft rule by fear, in place of love, — 
 A surer plan, as facts abundant prove. 
 
8 POEMS. 
 
 The Cross upreared o'er divers nations reigns, 
 And Orthodoxy dooms eternal pains, 
 And tortures dire to minds that will not bend. 
 The mediaeval chieftain, near his end, 
 Bequeaths broad lands to swell the Church's 
 
 power. 
 And claims its pardon for his dying hour ; 
 But bolder spirits compromise disdain 
 Nor care to buy immunity from pain ; 
 So, bit by bit, obstructive barriers fall. 
 A Church, enlarged, grants liberty to all 
 From certain bonds — so Orthodoxy lies 
 Supine — yet in the newer creed will rise 
 Intolerance to limit purer thought, 
 And dogma, somewhat changed, is forward 
 
 brought. 
 All Churches covet influence, and we find 
 Fresh chains are forged to check the enquiring^ 
 
 mind. 
 All do not yield, and many close their life 
 Far from the mists of theologians' strife. 
 The creed of terror, too, was oft received 
 Reluctantly by some who still believed. 
 Be orthodox or lost, one Church had said. 
 Striving conformity around to spread. 
 
CONCEPTION OF DEATH. 
 
 'Tis hard to differ when the law's stern hand 
 Compels obedience from an awe-struck land ; 
 When prison's torture, or the faggots' Hame 
 Form bulwarks that fence in Religion's name. 
 
 See the ascetic in his rugged cell, 
 
 Whilst self-denial's emblems round him dwell — 
 
 The scull — the crucifix — a crust of bread, 
 
 On hardest couch the coarsest raiment spread ; 
 
 Yet throbs his heart with pious ecstacy, 
 
 Longing for death to set his spirit free — 
 
 And realizes, in his lonely life, 
 
 How great the boon that closes mortal strife. 
 
 And thus we find, strange though the problem 
 
 seem. 
 To the same goal those diverse currents stream. 
 The Stoic's pride, he who voluptuous pressed 
 The fruit of pleasure to his glowing breast ; 
 The sturdy Roman, the more changeful Greek ; 
 The Anchorite, whose contemplations seek 
 The mystic essence of all faith to scan ; 
 Each finds, in death, the appointed bourne for 
 
 man. 
 
lO POEMS, 
 
 Yet, as the instincts of the human mind 
 
 Can never to the beautiful be blind, 
 
 The classic legends live, in deathless bloom, 
 
 Environing man's life-path and his tomb ; 
 
 Whilst Art from ancient models takes its spring, 
 
 Associations ceaseless influence bring. 
 
 And thus, to many, Death the emblem wears, 
 
 Which classic lore and students' culture shares. 
 
 Man's cheerful feelings, in spontaneous flow, 
 
 Fly from the picture of unending woe ; 
 
 Impulsively rejecting hopeless doom. 
 
 They cling to classic taste in freshest bloom ; 
 
 Where when, at length, the fated days arrive, 
 
 In life's arena never more to strive. 
 
 The curling smoke from fragrant pyre ascends. 
 
 And with man's ashes choicest perfume blends ! 
 
 A fitting close, when fall the shades of night, 
 
 To many a day of culture, art, and light. 
 
 Cremation ! outcome of enlightened thought, 
 
 Yet with simplicity of purpose fraught. 
 
 Fire that destroys, yet renovates life's plan, — 
 
 When Nature's secrets were revealed to man. 
 
 The fabled Titan, heaven-born flame imparts. 
 
 And kindred sparks flash out from human hearts ; 
 
CONCEPTION OF DEATH. I I 
 
 So, at the close, Death's purifying flame 
 Leaves but some ashes, and perchance a name ! 
 Yet may we venerate that higher law, 
 Which ardent minds in deep abstraction saw, 
 Where mystic love and prescience combine, 
 And faith's unlimited perspectives shine. 
 Where man, the victor of his passions, stands, 
 And silent prays with meek uplifted hands. 
 Shall this be all ? to fix the mighty date, 
 The world's new era calmly contemplate ! 
 Our children teach to count the years that fly. 
 And calculate from Anno Domini ! 
 No ! this is but the husk, the outer rind. 
 Within some pregnant lessons we may find — 
 How changed the world, informed by purer 
 
 breath 
 And hopes of future joys which conquer death ; 
 Yet was the victory but half complete. 
 'Mid changing creeds, the world to some is 
 
 sweet ; 
 Excitement's trumpet sounded far and near. 
 As energy made active purpose clear. 
 Pageants of mediaeval chivalry, 
 With valiant Knights in splendid panoply ; 
 
12 POEMS. 
 
 The solemn portip of sacerdotal reign, 
 From Rome diverging over land and main. 
 All these appealed to pride or pampered sense 
 On life's horizon, glowing and intense ! 
 So Death, the enemy, remains, whose knife 
 Severs the throbbing impulses of life ; 
 Congeals the blood, when in its freest course, 
 Ambition, pleasure, yielding to its force. 
 
 When Art revived, 'twas classic thought which 
 
 gave 
 Its seal to imagery of the grave ; 
 As sculptured features, in their last repose, 
 Looked calmly down on human toil and woes. 
 Sleep had they won at last — Inanimate, 
 Patient they look for final stroke of Fate. 
 From noble monuments exposed to view, 
 The feelings, thus inspired, yet wider grew ; 
 So letters spread at large the classic seed, 
 And Art won triumphs for the ancient creed ! 
 The fear of death full oft its spell has wrought 
 On timid souls, who peace of conscience 
 sought — 
 
CONCEPTION OF DEATH. 1 3 
 
 Not without reason, when the mind surveys 
 The unrolled ribbon of past careless days ; 
 So much of self-indulgence, and so rare 
 The moments owned by virtue's fostering care. 
 When man beholds the spectre of regret 
 Emerge from mists, ere sun of life be set, 
 Round which remorse in serpent coils will lie 
 Stretched on the rugged shore of destiny. 
 And wiser minds for much that's lost may 
 
 mourn. 
 As hopes, like autumn leaves, are onward borne. 
 Health, friends, affection of a child or wife, 
 The hundred forms that people active life ; 
 Labour's proud task, or fancy's lighter play. 
 Binding with silken cords the circling day ; 
 Yet must we feel the justice of a doom. 
 Which metes impartially to all the tomb — 
 Which levels, rectifies man's diverse state, 
 Whether we call it Providence or Fate. 
 This truth, revealed to poet and to sage, 
 Conspicuous shines in many a classic page. 
 
 # * * # * 
 
 Yet still a purer creed will hope inspire, 
 
 As flame bursts from the murky smoke of fire. 
 
14 POEMS. 
 
 All is not finished here — immortal man 
 May enter on a new progressive plan ; 
 Pervading love redeems the human race, 
 As pardon's voice resounds through endless 
 
 space. 
 Creed of the future — mystery sublime, 
 Soaring on radiant wing o'er gulf of time ; 
 Including, not exterminating power, 
 Almighty greatness, crowned with mercy's dower; 
 Disdaining commonplace of verbal strife, 
 That creed adores the sun of light and life ; 
 Whilst hope immortal, of divinest school, 
 Exults in pardon's all-embracing rule. 
 
 c%- 
 
15 
 
 DETACHED THOUGHTS. 
 
 "TTTHEN rich wine bubbles in the quaint- 
 shaped glass, 
 And your fair neighbour some remark may pass, 
 With half a promise in her lustrous eyes, 
 On which you glance with throbbing, glad 
 
 surprise, 
 How sweetly pass the hours! The morrow 
 
 dawns, 
 And then reaction comes with mem'ry's thorns. 
 Where'er you turn, in head or heart, is pain, 
 And occupation yields to languor's reign. 
 
 II, 
 
 Tis a rare gift, when Pleasure's syren voice 
 Is heard, to pause for meditative hour ; 
 
1 6 POEMS. 
 
 And, upward soaring, exercise your choice 
 On toilsome paths where craggy summits 
 tower ; 
 
 Leaving below your feet the mists that cloud 
 The valley, where men's efforts idly stray ; 
 
 Piercing, by force of will, Convention's shroud, 
 From mount of Truth a clearer view survey. 
 
 III. 
 
 Happy the young, who stand on Time's fair slope. 
 
 Hearing the distant murmur of Life's sea ! 
 Happy the old, who realize the scope 
 
 Of sterling work, accomplished faithfully ! 
 Some good for future generations done ; 
 
 A mark affixed above Time's shifting shore ; 
 Where hope is radiant as the mid- day sun, 
 
 With energies renewed in boundless store. 
 
 IV. 
 
 He paused beneath the welcome shade — 
 It was a day of glorious light — 
 
DETACHED THOUGHTS. I 7 
 
 And while his wandering steps were stayed, 
 Below him lay a vista bright. 
 
 And, as he mused, perchance there came 
 
 Voluptuous images, that yield 
 A fragrant, incense-bearing flame 
 
 Of passion lighting up the field ; 
 
 The perfect balance of the mind, 
 When health and temperance unite ; 
 
 And where, on glancing round, we find 
 No jarring contrast mar our sight. 
 
 Too brief such moments : life's dark sea 
 Already curls its waves in foam ; 
 
 Such calm can but a respite be 
 
 For pilgrims who mid tempests roam. 
 
 Quick he descends the sloping hill — 
 A man whom duty's claims enthral ; 
 
 Where higher thoughts the bosom fill 
 With sympathy for each and all ! 
 
1 8 POEMS. 
 
 V. 
 
 How wide, in youth, doth life's horizon seem, 
 Of passion, will, and action, as we dream ! 
 Yet of the view each year some portion's past. 
 Till but a couch and tomb remain at last. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Happy the worker who has won repose. 
 Life's plan fulfilling since his birth-star rose ! 
 Each year to find on higher ground his name, 
 And nearer scent the breeze from mount of fame. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Some seek to win the prize without the strain 
 Which life exacts in toil, renewed again ; 
 These creep along, reposing in the shade. 
 Others are dust-stained, panting, yet afraid. 
 Near though they be, to scale the final hill, 
 Reserved for those whose efforts serve their will. 
 
DETACHED THOUGHTS. 1 9 
 
 With force matured they gain the victor's crown, 
 Whilst quivering hmbs the toils they've passed 
 will own. 
 
 VIIT. 
 
 (rhymed elegiacs.) 
 
 Would you an orator be, and sway men's minds 
 at your pleasure .■' 
 Learn when speaking to feel all that to others 
 you say. 
 Would you as poet excel, and reach art's loftiest 
 measure ? 
 Study the boundary line 'twixt what has been 
 and what may. 
 Men would you lead ? First learn to probe 
 their feelings at leisure, 
 Till all depths of the heart clearly at last you 
 pourtray. 
 
20 POEMS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 'Tis wise to feel that greatness oft is wanting 
 
 In fullest tide and glare of mere success ; 
 Somewhat that lacks of that immortal planting, 
 
 Which fruit will bear when crowds no longer 
 press. 
 Foolish is he who cynically scorns 
 
 The simple pleasures that at hand may be, 
 Or purer feelings which no crown adorns : 
 
 To such the ideal fails in symmetry. 
 Friendship entails a risk too great to try ; 
 
 Affection's harvest will neglected lie. 
 
21 
 
 LOVE'S DAWNING. 
 
 /^FT have we met that girl, yet ne'er till now 
 Did the impression strike upon our sense ; 
 Oft have we gazed upon her ample brow — 
 Serene and free from fashion's vain pretence. 
 
 II. 
 
 She was but one in a parterre of flowers, 
 Of graceful aspect, with a winning charm ; 
 
 In whose glad presence swiftly fled the hours. 
 In heart's content, yet fenced around by calm. 
 
 III. 
 
 Now all is changed, and by a glance revealed. 
 The electric spark of passion strikes the heart. 
 
 No more, by prim convention's mask concealed, 
 Can we with feigned politeness play our part. 
 
2 2 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 All else seems tame ; one star alone doth shine ; 
 
 Desire has come with flutterings of doubt. 
 Can we succeed, or must we inly pine, 
 
 Whilst bolder spirits victory's paean shout ? 
 
 V. 
 
 Much that we lack do these perchance possess — 
 A calm and stately mien, proclaiming force. 
 
 Woman will oft a master's glance confess, 
 And in submission steer her willing course. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Still must we strive to win ! naught else remains ; 
 
 Our being's longings to this task are bound ; 
 For jealousy, with all its racking pains, 
 
 Knaws at our heartstrings in a ceaseless 
 round 
 
 VII. 
 
 Of torture. Rugged, truly, is the road 
 Which natures sensitive must travel o'er ; 
 
LOVE S DAWNING. 23 
 
 Bedewed by tears for days, free from the load 
 Of care — that bright and flower-enamelled 
 shore ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And yet, when age draws near, man ofttimes 
 mourns 
 
 E'en for the stormy shore his course has left. 
 
 Fair were the flowers, though girt around by 
 
 thorns ; 
 
 The view is tame, of passion's crags bereft ! 
 
 Life gives but fragments : Youth a heart that 
 
 quakes ; 
 Age the deep shadow which no sunlight breaks. 
 
24 POEMS. 
 
 YOUTHFUL AMBITION. 
 
 TZrOW bright those dreams of glory and 
 success, 
 
 Glory of chief to victory who leads ; 
 Of orator, whose hearers must confess 
 
 He is the man a nation's crisis needs. 
 
 Of artist, who from Nature culls her best, 
 And all ennobles by the Ideal's power ; 
 
 Of passion paints the strife, or scenes of rest, 
 Steeps in a calm round which no storm-clouds 
 lower. 
 
 Of poet, whose conception moulded lies, 
 Each part dilating into perfect form ; 
 
 Or when the drama's scene is hailed by cries 
 And voices blend into excitement's storm. 
 
 Such is the vision, as the future lies 
 
 Unwrought, yet possible, in Nature's womb ; 
 
YOUTHFUL AMBITION. 25 
 
 Youth muses, lonely, or perchance he flies 
 Hopes to confide in all their vernal bloom. 
 
 Life's struggle comes ; alas ! how poor the scene, 
 How many counter influences jar ; 
 
 Mean the result to what it might have been. 
 The prise so small to what it seemed afar! 
 
 Yet should we ne'er forget how hope adorned 
 Those days with actual and vivid light ; 
 
 That good was ours, and never should be scorned, 
 E'en when our cherished longings fade from 
 sight. 
 
 'Tis false philosophy to count the weeds, 
 
 And pass the flowers that round our path have 
 bloomed ; 
 They did ennoble life ; each hour that speeds 
 Reaps its own harvest though its course be 
 doomed ! 
 
26 POEMS. 
 
 NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1882. 
 
 A N OTHER year! From out Time's mystic 
 urn 
 This ball is sent for human hands to roll ! 
 None may the guerdon negligently spurn ; 
 It comes triumphant over man's control. 
 So, as we calculate the months' return, 
 
 And, wondering, ask what is the final goal ? 
 Once more we enter on the mixed domain 
 Of pleasure and its sterner rival — pain. 
 
 Of both the seeds on mortal path are strewn. 
 
 Just ready to develop into life ; 
 The common lot, some may, reluctant, own. 
 
 Has elements of peace as well as strife ; 
 But the proportions vary, — for, alone. 
 
 Some must confront adversity's sharp knife ; 
 Whilst others drone in luxury and ease, 
 Their daily task — their wayward selves to please. 
 
NEW year's day, 1882. 27 
 
 Yet none escape unscathed ; for black ennui 
 Twin-born with lassitude dark days oppress ; 
 
 They who all work eschew can never see 
 
 Visions of well-earned rest, the mind to bless — 
 
 None can escape from Nature's symmetry, 
 Yet many in their secret thoughts confess 
 
 They'd like more joy and merriment and fun, 
 
 Ere the year's heavy task has well begun. 
 
 I 
 Yet look around — our wandering steps indent 
 Their pathway on Time's vast and silent 
 shore ; 
 If our past years have oft to folly leant, 
 
 Braced for our work, we vacillate no more ; 
 On this bright morn, perchance, is message sent, 
 Warnings which sophistry can ne'er bridge 
 o'er ; 
 So, may the opening of another year, 
 Girt, by hope's rainbow hues, sublime appear. 
 
 Yet of the varied interests of mankind, 
 Who dares to prophesy the ebb and flow ? 
 
 Nations are stirred — of party strife the blind 
 And erring impulse wanders to and fro. 
 
28 POEMS. 
 
 Will faction's rage decline, to peace resigned, 
 
 Nor longer strike for anarchy the blow ? 
 Will Hellas bloom again, as in the age 
 When art and letters shone on history's page ? 
 
 How vain to question that which hidden lies ! 
 
 How futile to explore land bathed in night. 
 We listen to the evening breeze that sighs. 
 
 But what the morn may bring evades our 
 sight. 
 Despair not of the future's glorious prize, 
 
 This year may see the victory of right. 
 No oracle he needs, who'll careful scan 
 Affinities of Nature and of man. 
 
29 
 
 ON READING C. BAUDELAIRE'S 
 FLEURS DU MAL. 
 
 "^/"ES, " flowers of evil," such there are, 
 Produce of man's perverted heart. 
 Which leave life's nobler paths afar, 
 And feel of meaner pains the smart. 
 
 Such flowers in darksome corners bloom, 
 Shunning the rays of heaven-born light ; 
 
 Fit but to deck a nameless tomb. 
 
 When pleasure's sun has sunk in night. 
 
 Some from corruption's relics spring, 
 And lure the wanderer to destroy ; 
 
 Some borne aloft on fancy's wing. 
 Give empty mimicry of joy. 
 
 Some deck themselves with passion's mask. 
 Seeking to grasp the strange and new ; 
 
 Some more degraded can but ask 
 Admittance 'mid the vilest crew. 
 
30 POEMS. 
 
 Ennui, satiety, that calls 
 
 On all creation to supply- 
 That nameless void of sense that palls, 
 
 And naught that's noble can descry. 
 
 Too true the picture, if we seek 
 
 Where foulest thought and action lies, 
 
 When every blush has left the cheek, 
 And man has lost all wish to rise. 
 
 But why, O poet, shouldst thou lead 
 
 Thy readers on such mud-stained track ; 
 
 On garbage foul why make him feed, 
 No warning voice to call him back ? 
 
 Could he be happy, he who wrote 
 Page upon page so drear and sad, 
 
 A mariner in lonely boat. 
 
 On turbid ocean of the bad ? 
 
 The venal love that brings disgust, 
 The thought half sensual, half stern, 
 
 Poor fleeting pleasures laid in dust. 
 Where passion's embers dimly burn. 
 
ON BAUDELAIRE S FLEURS DU MAL. 3 1 
 
 And worse than these, the fell desire 
 
 To labour in the cause of ill, 
 Where flowers of evil girt by fire, 
 
 Make circles ever widening still. 
 
 That conflagration spreads around, 
 
 And charred remains its progress show, 
 
 A patch of desolated ground 
 
 On which no healthy plant can grow. 
 
 Yet near the forest glade extends, 
 Birds, too, are singing in the trees, 
 
 And vegetation's richness blends. 
 Wafting its odours on the breeze. 
 
 All is not bad, as many say. 
 
 Near evil's haunts bright virtue lives. 
 
 And Nature, with benignant sway. 
 
 Her treasured stores of blessings gives. 
 
 The fatalism here we find, 
 
 Grasping of vice the endless chain, 
 Where ever circling instincts blind, 
 
 Ne'er hope their freedom to regain. 
 
32 POEMS. 
 
 Revolt against th' eternal law 
 
 That bids our nature higher rise, 
 Pictured by one who keenly saw 
 
 The haunts where evil's banner flies. 
 
 Talent of sculptor that reveals 
 
 From marble's grain the struggling thought ; 
 Talent of painter's hand that feels 
 
 Bright flame of colour near him brought — 
 
 Are lavished on this hideous theme, 
 
 Of evil the immense domain, 
 Nature and Art, the servants seem 
 
 Of frenzied joys, enwreathed with pain. 
 
 Yet may we hope some purer thought 
 These ghastly visions glanced between, 
 
 And that such fiery struggles wrought, 
 At tempest's close, a sky serene. 
 
33 
 
 REVERIE. 
 
 O PIRITS depressed, mysterious law 
 
 Oft warning, ere the blow may fall. 
 As though our instinct dimly saw, 
 
 Or heard, through gloom, of Fate the call. 
 
 The wiser man accepts the sign, 
 
 Half-furling sail on life's swift barque, 
 
 Exulting hopes their place resign. 
 
 As chastened thoughts their irnpress mark. 
 
 Her flaunting banner joy will drop. 
 To trifling, earnest thoughts succeed, 
 
 From pleasure's tree we branches lop. 
 Calm and content seem all we need. 
 
 And thus when flows life's tide again. 
 And bears us on its crested wave, 
 
 We reap the harvest of our pain, 
 And higher aims from folly save. 
 
34 POEMS. 
 
 STRUGGLES. 
 
 Lji AT and digest, then sleep and see 
 
 If aught more precious life can give ; 
 No struggles then are felt, to free 
 
 The .space where lower interests live. 
 
 Some wakeful night, a warning voice 
 Calls us from fancy's realm to fact ; 
 
 In nearness now is placed the choice, 
 Idly to dream, or earnest act. 
 
 Thenceforth our bark has left the shore, 
 Storm-tossed on many a foaming wave ; 
 
 Life's tranquil haven seen no more. 
 No cliffs from tempest's fury save. 
 
 But, look, sublime there beams a light. 
 Flashing its ray from Truth's far hill ; 
 
 Yet oft it mocks our straining sight, 
 And seems to grow more distant still. 
 
STRUGGLES. 35 
 
 Thousands will never reach that strand, 
 Engulphed 'neath ocean's restless flow. 
 
 Pilgrims are few who touch the land, 
 And stains of toil their aspects show. 
 
 Yet strive we must, if but to leave 
 The rank morass of low desires 
 
 (Whose phantom lights men's hearts deceive) 
 For heights to which the soul aspires. 
 
36, POEMS. 
 
 TYRANNY OF INCLINATION. 
 
 rpHE headstrong boy, who late returns to 
 school, 
 
 Or illness feigns to avoid impending task ; 
 
 The young collegian who will never ask 
 Who burdens bear, so he may play the fool : 
 All such o'er life give inclination rule. 
 
 Whilst they in pleasure's fitful sunshine bask. 
 
 The man mature in love caprice who feels, 
 Or seeks in gambling for excitement's day, 
 Where horses dash past crowds absorbed or 
 
 gay; 
 
 Or where in lamp-lit halls the croupier deals, 
 And spendthrift's brain with mad excitement 
 reels, 
 Careless if his estate his debts can pay. 
 
TYRANNY OF INCLINATION. 37 
 
 All such reverse perspective of life's plan, 
 Where duty 's placed as keystone of the arch, 
 Through which their footsteps should obedient 
 march, 
 Who seek to win the prize proposed to man, 
 And action's motives with discernment scan, 
 Careless of pleasure as for truth they search. 
 
38 POEMS. 
 
 CLASSIC VIEWS OF AGE. 
 
 TTTHEN first, in youth, the enquiring student 
 
 stands 
 In fair domain of ancient classic thought, 
 And claims the glorious privilege that some 
 Deem too unpractical for daily life ; 
 When on the course to fortune's prize we pant, 
 He finds two pictures, shewn by master-hands. 
 Depicting features of declining age — 
 One is the Satirist's ; he* tells us how 
 In age the senses languish, and the mind 
 Hears but the feeble echo of past joys : 
 Whilst varied torments of disease assail 
 The sinking energies of feeble frame, 
 Unapt for throb of love or toil of war. 
 Whilst passions moulder in their grim decay ! 
 Desire surviving execution's power, 
 
 * Juvenal, Sat. 10. 
 
CLASSIC VIEWS OF AGE. 39 
 
 Saddest of all how cherished friends depart, 
 Leaving the pilgrim in his solitude — 
 A picture realistic, stern, and sad. 
 
 But classic student reads not this alone : 
 Another exposition, ample, grand, 
 Sounds like a silver trumpet in his ears ! 
 With noble thoughts enshrined in cadenced 
 
 phrase, 
 Cicero tells us of the charms of age. 
 Crowned with the wreath of high philosophy. 
 Thanks, Roman, for this legacy to all. 
 For thou wert not a contemplative man. 
 Dwelling apart in distant halls of thought, 
 But one who mingled in the busy crowd, 
 And swayed the minds of thousand citizens 
 Of greatest empire that the world hath seen. 
 With eloquence that lives throughout all time. 
 This great philosopher and orator. 
 This man of action. Consul, Senator, 
 Has left this noble eulogy of age, 
 Endowed with calmness and serene content I 
 Yet must we own that thousands lead a life 
 
40 POEMS. 
 
 Ending in age/ meet for the Satirist 
 To vent his cynical contempt upon ; 
 Their manhood passed in crowded haunts where 
 
 few 
 Are wedded to pursuit of worthy ends, 
 But cultivate excitement as their aim, 
 To cheat, as best they can, that fiend ennui. 
 Whether they swell the crowd, where day by day 
 Excited voices, sounding far, proclaim 
 The current odds on every coming race. 
 Or watch, through long-drawn hours, the shift- 
 ing cards, 
 Or haunt some boudoir, where the courtezan, 
 Stamped with the current mark of fashion's seal, 
 Receives admirers in a negligde. 
 Formed to entrance the senses of her slaves ! 
 Some join the revel of intemperance, 
 Where thought is fevered, vague, and indistinct, 
 Like shifting sand-heaps on the desert's waste. 
 Some more correct, meander in the maze 
 Of fashion, all their energies consumed 
 In gaudy temple of frivolity. 
 For such what honourable age can crown 
 The flood of manhood's stormy passions, when 
 
CLASSIC VIEWS OF AGE. 4t 
 
 The hour has sounded for enforced repose ! 
 Their later years, haunted by vain regrets, 
 Whose crape, o'er all suspended, mars the view ; 
 For such the Roman Satirist has launched 
 The scorn that withers, and the truth that burns. 
 
 May we, ere the last scene of life shall close, 
 
 Follow the counsel of Rome's Orator 
 
 With clearer hope drawn from a nobler creed. 
 
 i-.^^ 
 
42 POEMS, 
 
 THE MODERN POLITICIAN. 
 
 In Three Glimpses. 
 
 QTATESMEN are fettered ; Politicians may 
 Cage and retain that fluttering bird To-day, 
 Choosing some party watchword for their cry, 
 Then boldly bid for popularity ! 
 Talent they need of supple, dext'rous kind, 
 To no fresh current of opinion blind ; 
 Topics they plausibly reiterate, 
 Know when to check and when prolong debate ; 
 In short, you want a pretty able man, 
 Who'll work unwearied on determined plan. 
 
 II. 
 
 Go ask that veteran how he climbed to power ? 
 If candid, he may thus reply, "My friend, 
 Success is oft of trifling gifts the dower, 
 Which small apart, harmoniously blend ; 
 
THE MODERN POLITICIAN. 43 
 
 Yet may one strive in vain, if fortune's shower 
 Do not its fertilizing influence lend ; 
 So, bit by bit, an edifice is reared, 
 Which, at the first, impossible appeared." 
 
 III. 
 
 Our Politician says, as party man 
 
 My chief I follow through each mazy plan — 
 
 All I applaud, down to his weakest acts. 
 
 And even fancies I accept as facts ! 
 
 Have you observed, my friend, how in a field, 
 
 Each sheep will to its leader service yield. 
 
 And follow blindly ; so, in party strife, 
 
 Do you accept this model for your life ? 
 
44 POEMS. 
 
 THE CUP OF TEA, WITH A GLANCE 
 AT MOCHA. 
 
 /^ POTENT lever to the struggling thought, 
 When, fumes of yesternight just passed 
 away. 
 Again we welcome the returning day 
 In ceaseless occupation's network caught. 
 
 The sportsman mounts his hack for covert side, 
 Hoping that what has been again may be : 
 A glorious run from every drawback free, 
 
 Good scent, fair fences, men who're bound to 
 ride. 
 
 The merchant leaving his luxurious home, — 
 As his fair wife the fragrant offering pours, — 
 To speculation's glitt'ring summit soars, 
 
 And thoughts, to bold conceptions reaching, 
 roam. 
 
THE CUP OF TEA. 45 
 
 To the desponding lover has the post 
 
 Some hurried lines, then, doubly welcome, 
 
 brought : 
 All is not lost ; an interview is sought ; 
 
 His passion will surmount obstruction's host. 
 
 His tea is sipped ; and hope still brighter grows, 
 And many a weary sufferer, whose pain, 
 Through lengthened hours of night, sought 
 rest in vain, 
 
 Finds in that morning draught a late repose. 
 
 Many a toiler, too, has respite found, 
 
 And hope once more hath shed its healing 
 
 ray,— 
 Refreshed, he starts, less rugged seems the 
 way, 
 His footsteps tread at length on firmer ground. 
 
 Yet none may Mocha's fragrant juice disdain, 
 Wherein the glowing Eastern fancy lives. 
 Which to the Sage deep contemplation gives. 
 
 Or cheers the Arab on the thirsty plain ; 
 
46 POEMS. 
 
 Or when, the splendid banquet's courses o'er, 
 The guests await digestion's magic power, 
 Inspired by thee, how sweetly flows the hour 
 
 In conversation's ever- varied store. 
 
 Yet tea, perchance, embodies subtler force. 
 Bound with so many tender feelings, where 
 Sweet home-born influences fill the air. 
 
 And launch us on our duty's daily course. 
 
47 
 
 EXCITEMENT. 
 
 /?( ODDESS of wild dishevelled hair, 
 With fatal beauty's gifts endowed, 
 In every age men found thee fair, 
 
 And prostrate falls th' admiring crowd. 
 
 II. 
 
 And yet, what ruin hast thou wrought, 
 What high-born hopes eclipsed by night, 
 
 What bold aspiring spirits brought 
 
 To grope their way in flickering light ? 
 
 in. 
 
 For when thy radiant form is veiled, 
 
 How drear the path that man must tread ; 
 
 The light is gone, our hope has failed, 
 In joy no more we raise our head. 
 
48 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The shout that tells of victory 
 
 Of athlete's force or hard-won race ; 
 
 The Syren's glance of witchery, 
 
 From bowers whence few their steps retrace. 
 
 V. 
 
 The hall illumed by vivid light, 
 
 Where heaps of gold symmetric rise ; 
 
 And all seems beautiful and bright, 
 With glances from Hetaira's eyes. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Such are the toils which thou hast spread, 
 For hearts impulsive, when each day 
 
 Makes the blood course in throbbing head, 
 And sober thought is cast away ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Fly then, O youth, from fatal slope, 
 
 So easy to descend, so hard 
 To mount again, bereft of hope, 
 
 With struggling toil, each member scarred ! 
 
EXCITEMENT. 49 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Look up where Duty's temple stands, 
 Though steep the mist-encircled way, 
 
 Though fairer seem those sunny lands, 
 'Mid blooming flowers, where idlers stray. 
 
 IX. 
 
 For here the battle must be won, 
 
 'Mid noble aims of earnest life : 
 Tis here that each revolving sun 
 
 Will brace us for the coming strife. 
 
50 POEMS. 
 
 LOOKING BACK. 
 
 /^FT in his waking dreams there came 
 
 A certain semblance of the past ; 
 Like shadows crossed by tongues of flame, 
 Or misty veil o'er sunshine cast. 
 
 Forms in their outline incomplete, 
 Nor rounded by a workman's hand ; 
 
 Where false perspective's vistas meet, 
 And giant temples rest on sand. 
 
 So 'tis at best a partial view 
 
 Of life's great stage that men obtain ; 
 Around lie fragments of the true, 
 
 And pleasure's light is crossed by pain. 
 
 For man's allotted journey lies 
 Beyond the valley and the hill ; 
 
 And all that meets his eager eyes 
 
 Is vexed by wand'ring phantoms still. 
 
LOOKING BACK. 5 1 
 
 From passion free, the sage may look 
 On shifting cloud and blue expanse ; 
 
 Long has he studied Nature's book, 
 
 Ere that wide prospect meets his glance. 
 
 He looks, but feels his vigour gone, 
 For struggles in the stormy fight ; 
 
 And every prop he leans upon 
 Bears witness to declining might. 
 
 Yet some, in youth's all-conquering hour, 
 The boon of knowledge have obtained ; 
 
 Keen sight is joined to nervous power. 
 And life's stern victory is gained. 
 
52 POEMS. 
 
 CONTRASTS. 
 
 "VTTE oft for new horizons call, 
 
 And never pause to think how all 
 
 Vibrates round central plan — 
 As Time unwinds the mighty chain 
 Of mingled hope and joy and pain, 
 
 That binds the world to man. 
 
 Some are condemned to live alone, 
 And hear of life the undertone, 
 
 In murmurs from afar ; 
 From action all divorced they feel, 
 And watch the turning of the wheel 
 
 That moves the social car. 
 
 And some so busy are, they find 
 Gone the elastic spring of mind 
 
 And dulled perception's glass ! 
 No longer able to enjoy, 
 As cares life's purer gold alloy, 
 
 And gloomy shadows pass ! 
 
CONTRASTS. 53 
 
 Experience will tell us how 
 We best may utilize the Now, 
 
 When, with concentred rays, 
 All that we dream of high and bright 
 Is welded in the vivid light 
 
 Of Wisdom's gathered days. 
 
54 POEMS. 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 "pniRST days of Spring, what bring ye to 
 the heart ? 
 What thoughts from higher spheres our 
 natures cross ? 
 In busy feeling's renovated part, 
 
 What shall we count as gain and what as loss ? 
 
 Restless, we muse, and wand'ring odours, cast 
 From ocean's waves, by secret thoughts are 
 stirred. 
 
 We dream of travel — of the changeful past : 
 Remembrance faintly throbs, like echo heard. 
 
 Yes ! suns as bright our eyes have seen before ; 
 
 Nature was mirrored in as pure a glow ; 
 And Memory points, through Time's half- 
 opened door, 
 
 Where forn's we loved so well as shadows go. 
 
SPRING. 55 
 
 And some are thinking of life's endless rush, 
 When chariots roll, and eager rivals strive : 
 
 Where obstacles the feebler natures crush, 
 But stronger frames at wished-for goal arrive. 
 
 Some think upon the priceless steed that wins 
 Just by a head, and saves a mighty stake ; 
 
 Others of love's entrancing hour, that spins, 
 Down flowery slope, to disappointment's lake. 
 
 Each has his vision ; but in nearly all, 
 Of self the mute gigantic spectre stands ; 
 
 Few pause to feel humanity's great call, 
 Or aid the struggling with assisting hands. 
 
 Yet selfish feelings work for Nature's plan : 
 Each grooves his path that in broad ways. 
 unite ; 
 
 Society absprbs the complex man, 
 
 And narrow purpose tends to wider sight. 
 
56 POEMS. 
 
 TO VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 /^ RE AT Poet, in an age when much is small, 
 And action's meted by self-interest's rule — 
 Great Dramatist, evoking at his call 
 
 Indignant protests 'gainst corruption's school. 
 
 An Orator, whose voice with restless might, 
 Against Oppression's sway o'er act or thought. 
 
 Pleaded for nations' or for classes' right, 
 In accents not to be coerced or bought. 
 
 Artist of highest aim and genial powers, 
 Whether with mediaeval life he deals, 
 
 And passion's struggles round the time-worn 
 towers,* 
 Or of our modern days the purport feels. 
 
 * Notre Dame de Paris. 
 
VICTOR HUGO. 57 
 
 With gen'rous instincts ever on the wing, 
 Apostle of a brighter future's day — 
 
 When ev'ry worker's toil reward shall bring, 
 When Freedom owns no laws' unequal sway. 
 
 His magic pen oft by a word conveys 
 Some vivid outline ne'er to be forgot : 
 
 The courtezan her new-born life pourtrays, 
 And true affection heals corruption's blot.* 
 
 When humble adoration rises till 
 
 A power divine alone its aims express, — 
 
 With fine gradations the Eternal Will 
 
 Bends down from H eaven a mortal love to bless.t 
 
 When, in December's day, so bright and cold, 
 All Paris thronged to see the ashes brought 
 
 Of him whose name was wreathed with glory's fold, 
 The Poet's voice expressed the general 
 thought. X 
 
 * Marion de I'Orme. 
 
 " I'amour a refait ma virginity." 
 
 t " Enfant, si j'etais Dieu." 
 
 ("Rayons et Ombres.) 
 
 X " Le jour fut rayonnant comme ta gloire. 
 
 Et froid, comme ton tombeau ! "-^1840. 
 
58 POEMS. 
 
 And from the tribune when his accents fell, 
 All Europe caught the spark that burst in 
 flame ; 
 Such fiery words 'gainst all who Freedom sell, 
 Such withering scorn for slaves to Order's 
 name. (1849-51.) 
 
 Finer the lesson, when he tells us how 
 
 Man may be rescued from the depths of 
 crime ; 
 When laws before the great hereafter bow, 
 And penal fetters fall in riper time. 
 
 (" Les Miserables.") 
 
 Crowned with an aureole of poetic fire, 
 
 From rocky isle he looked with eagle's glance, 
 
 Till Paris called once more for him whose lyre 
 Immortal glory long had given to France. 
 
 Now, and in age, he stands among the few 
 Who cherish still the flame to genius given, 
 
 A life's perspective seen with clearer view, 
 With thoughts for freedom that have nobly 
 striven. 
 
59 
 
 WISHES. 
 
 "pERCHANCE 'tis good to wish for little, still 
 
 Reposing in the haven of content — 
 No call to feel to climb ambition's hill, 
 
 Or view the world from fame's proud battle- 
 ment. 
 Such longings rarely can our hopes fulfil : 
 
 Phantoms, too oft, by adverse influence sent ; 
 Yet most men wish to live a little longer, 
 Gr richer be, or handsomer, or stronger. 
 
 " Ask for a mind that knows not fear of death." 
 So sang the Roman bard in noble verse, 
 
 And high philosophy would waste its breath 
 In telling us that many choose far worse. 
 
 For prudence, child of sad experience, saith 
 Let each day find, at hand, a well-filled purse. 
 
 Men wish for luck in love, in trade, or sport, 
 
 Some covet titles from a foreign Court. 
 
6o POEMS. 
 
 A wish there is, that oft-times seems to be 
 Th' embodiment of much man should 
 desire ; 
 Old as the world its trite simplicity, 
 
 " If youth but knew," when full of strength 
 and fire. 
 Could one but life's perspective truly see, 
 
 Walk calmly on, with caution mounting 
 higher, 
 Shunned would be many a failure and surprise. 
 Whilst objects in their jusi proportion rise. 
 
 Some wish for leisure. 'Tis a priceless boon. 
 
 If its employment justly be conceived : 
 For chain of irksome task comes all too soon, 
 And fancy droops, of rainbow dreams 
 bereaved. 
 'Neath the bright sun of vigorous manhood's 
 noon, 
 What noble, lasting works may be achieved. 
 Grant but the wish ; how many lounge through 
 
 hours 
 With trifling that corrupts the mind's best 
 powers 1 
 
WISHES. 6 1 
 
 Man, it is true, is lord of every act, 
 
 Like faggots' bulk that grows from day to day, 
 Yet few will pause to estimate each fact, 
 
 When pleasure's rays in coruscations play. 
 Ask, then, for judgment to discern with tact, 
 
 And measure distances on life's broad way, 
 So, from time's mountain we may see more clear, 
 All we can do in outline sharp appear. 
 
 Ask for affection, rather than desire ; 
 
 For competence, than piles of hoarded gold ; 
 For a career that doth not rash aspire 
 
 To wild excitement, but will still unfold 
 Fresh lustre as it burns, with steady fire, 
 
 And firm set principles doth e'er uphold. 
 In short, be satisfied — you know the rest, 
 
 'Tis a trite lesson, moderation's zest. 
 
62 POEMS. 
 
 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 A MID the changes that convulse our earth 
 
 With throes of pain : 
 The earthquake's fearful rent ; the cyclone's 
 
 birth, 
 Or storm-tossed main : 
 
 II. 
 
 Sad were the lot of struggling man below, 
 
 If to his sense 
 Were not revealed, amid this ebb and flow, 
 
 God's Providence. 
 
 III. 
 
 Hard 'tis, in truth, to find destruction's law ; 
 
 Yet each must feel 
 How oft some unexpected turn he saw 
 
 In life's vast wheel. 
 
PROVIDENCE. 63 
 
 IV. 
 
 Let faith then grow, like some wide-spreading 
 tree, 
 
 Whose branches give 
 Repose to wanderers who from tempests flee, 
 
 And learn to live. 
 
 V. 
 
 Then see, of earth, the shadows crossed with light 
 
 Beneath man's feet ; 
 Or upward glance to purer spheres of light. 
 
 Where angels greet. 
 
 VI. 
 
 A rainbow arc of aspirations pure 
 
 Links heaven to earth ; 
 Belief in good conducts by gradients sure 
 
 To higher birth, 
 
 VII. 
 
 And thus a faith in watchful Providence 
 
 Lulls all to rest, 
 And earnest hope replaces flickering sense 
 
 In mortal breast ! 
 
64 POEMS. 
 
 THE LAW OF KINDNESS 
 
 rpHERE is a law which brighter shines 
 
 Than any code compiled by men ; 
 Traced to our sight in heavenly lines, 
 Unwrit by any mortal pen. 
 
 II. 
 
 A law that dates from that great day, 
 
 When on the " Mount" our Lord surveyed 
 The crowds whom He had taught to pray, 
 And to all time blest words conveyed. 
 
 III. 
 
 A law that bids us ceaseless strive 
 To seek the wretched, save the lost. 
 
 To keep the spark of hope alive, 
 Nor count the labour or the cost. 
 
THE LAW OF KINDNESS. 65 
 
 IV. 
 
 'Tis but a little we can do, 
 
 So vast the flood of misery, 
 'Tis but a fragment of the true, 
 
 " Leave all" He said, and " follow Me." 
 
 To smooth all angered feelings down ; 
 
 At home, when jarring currents rise, 
 With smile of hope replace the frown, 
 
 As sunlight clears the clouded skies. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Endowed with prescience sublime, 
 Clearly, to eye of faith, appears, 
 
 Suspended o'er the gulf of time. 
 Millennium of the coming years. 
 
 vn. 
 
 The all-embracing reign of good. 
 And evil banished from the world. 
 
 All kinder feelings understood. 
 
 Whilst Christ's great banner is unfurled. 
 
66 POEMS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 For kindness is the seed that grows, 
 Later to spread a mighty tree ; 
 
 The source from where the river flows 
 Of universal Charity ! 
 
67 
 
 A FEW WORDS on ELEGIAC METRE 
 
 (HEXAMETER and PENTAMETER) 
 
 IN MODERN LANGUAGES. 
 
 "IV /TANY who have received what — notwith- 
 standing dissentients — we must consider 
 the privilege of a classical education, will recall, 
 with delight, their first introduction to elegiac 
 verse. 
 
 The somewhat monotonous roll of the 
 simple Hexameter was so charmingly contrasted 
 with the sharply accentuated fall of the Penta- 
 meter — the union of the two forming so perfect 
 an alliance of masculine vigour with feminine 
 softness — that the ear and sense were alike fully 
 satisfied. Nor can such reproduction of classic 
 models be compared with the rhymed Latin 
 Hexameters so popular in the middle ages, 
 although these may have been unduly depre- 
 ciated by modern critics. 
 
 Within the last century the Germans have 
 
68 POEMS. 
 
 the honour of naturalizing elegiacs in their 
 own language. Klopstock, Voss, Zimmerman, 
 Ruckert, and, above all, Goethe, brought this 
 beautiful classic metre to the most perfect form 
 of which a modern language was capable. Yet 
 many doubt whether the adaptation was com- 
 plete. Accents had to be shifted, and quantities 
 arbitrarily changed. Yet, in spite of drawbacks, 
 the victory was gained, and the modern elegiacs 
 became world-renowned. 
 
 In recent times, Longfellow and the late 
 Arthur Clough produced poems in simple Hexa- 
 meters, which have attained a wide celebrity. 
 And in his headings to the series of sketches, 
 entitled " Amours de Voyage," the latter has 
 given some graceful specimens of elegiac verse. 
 These, indeed, have a sweetness and harmony 
 which Clough' s simple Hexameters do not 
 always possess ; for in his " Bothy " there are 
 some fearfully rugged spondaic lines. 
 
 Enough has been done to show that our 
 language does not impose any insuperable diffi- 
 culty to smoothness and harmony in elegiac 
 metre, and it may probably be more extensively 
 
ELEGIACS. 69 
 
 cultivated in the future. We now give some speci- 
 mens from a contemporary litterateur, remarking 
 that, if it be objected that quantities are arbi- 
 trarily used, the same objection applies, in some 
 degree at least, to such masterpieces as Goethe's 
 " Alexis " and his " Euphrosyne " : — 
 
 Two stars shine on our birth ; when one is 
 
 extinguished the other 
 Dimmer and dimmer will grow, till it is lost to 
 
 our view. 
 When their lustre is gone, man sinks in the 
 
 billows of ocean, — 
 Honours the name of one ; that of the other is 
 
 Truth. 
 
 II. 
 
 Once when a prince demanded what gift he 
 
 should offer the wise man ? 
 " Only," the latter replied, " out of my sunshine 
 
 to go." 
 
yo POEMS. 
 
 True, and the chiefest boon that a State can 
 
 give to the worker, 
 Is when it leaves at his choice freedom to speak 
 
 and to act. 
 
 III. 
 
 Where is the mortal who deems his judgment 
 
 never can falter ? 
 Is he not here at his Club, looking through 
 
 window at life ? 
 Hollow and vain he declares are ardent hopes 
 
 that we cherish ; 
 'Tis so to him, for, in truth, hollow is all in his 
 
 heart. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Wise is the man who feels that wisdom oft may- 
 be wanting 
 
 'Mid full glare of success, but thai it higher 
 remains. 
 
 Foolish he who seeks to scorn the natural 
 pleasures, 
 
 Holding glory a dream, love a delusion and 
 snare ; 
 
ELEGIACS. 7 1 
 
 Friendship, too costly a thing for prudent men 
 
 to invest in ; 
 Woman's affection, a ware that can be purchased 
 
 at will. 
 
 "When wine sparkles in glass, and your neighbour 
 
 is specially charming, 
 Launching sparks from her eye, that in the fancy 
 
 remain, 
 Happy the moments will pass ; but, sure as the 
 
 sun of to-morrow 
 Rises, reaction will come — pain of the head or 
 
 the heart. 
 Shall we, then, fly from the halls where Bacchus 
 
 the rosy is worshipped, 
 Or where the Paphian Queen kindles the flame 
 
 of desire ? 
 No ! for 'tis better to smart than to pine in a 
 
 mouldering cloister, 
 Where no wine-cup invites, nor the sweet lips 
 
 of the fair. 
 
72 POEMS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Great is of Nature the gift to enjoy and reflect 
 
 on enjoyment, 
 Climb some steps of the stair to the ideal that 
 
 leads, 
 Leaving below the mists that cloud the valley 
 
 of effort. 
 Clearer feeling the air wafted from mountain of 
 
 Truth. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Death is the shadow of life, but shadows wait 
 
 upon sunshine ; 
 Why, if we bask in the one, shall we the other 
 
 decry ? 
 Each forms part of a plan which gives to mortals 
 
 endeavour, 
 Will, and passions, and then limits the term of 
 
 their sway. 
 Travel the wise enjoy, but, viewing the end of 
 
 the journey, 
 Calmly await their time under the hill to repose. 
 
ELEGIACS. 73 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Happy is he who works, and after working re- 
 poses. 
 
 Thus fulfiUing the plan given to man at his birth, 
 
 Every year to feel he's reached to a level that's 
 higher, 
 
 Nearer scenting the breeze blowing from hill-top 
 of Fame. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Wide as the circle may seem of passion, will, 
 
 and endeavour. 
 When we in youth survey all the horizon of life : 
 Older, the space contracts with each ripe year 
 
 that is passing, 
 Till there remains at the last only a couch and a 
 
 grave. 
 
 After all, these experiments are but tenta- 
 tive. They may be welcomed as such by those 
 who believe that the combinations of language 
 are, like notes in music, susceptible of infinite 
 variety and change. In the vast and gorgeous 
 
74 POEMS. 
 
 temple of the world's poesy, such tiny mosaics 
 may, in some retired nook, excite a sympathetic 
 feeling among the crowd of worshippers at the 
 greater shrines. 
 
75 
 
 THE NEW YEAR, 1883. 
 
 A GAIN another year has fled, 
 
 The seasons varied gifts have shed 
 Their balm on man's career ; 
 Passions have struggled, parties fought, 
 And rival chiefs in turn have sought 
 The Nation's bark to steer. 
 
 Life trickles on, in countless rills, 
 Down to that urn immense, which fills 
 
 Of man the destiny. 
 Beyond there lies the magic haze 
 That veils the slope of future days. 
 
 Whose limits none can see. 
 
 For death is there with aspect pale, 
 Armed with the darts that never fail, 
 
 Indubitable fact : 
 All else may change, that cloud remains, 
 The Monarch's crown, the captive's chains, 
 
 Prelude the final act. 
 
76 POEMS. 
 
 Yet, still, the coming year shall meet. 
 The interests that, converging, greet 
 
 The wanderer on his way ; 
 Joy, sorrow, tears, or laughter seem 
 Like visions of a passing dream. 
 
 Or moonbeams, lustrous play. 
 
 When gone each fragrant season's bloom, 
 When falls December's gathered gloom, 
 
 'Mid fog, or snow, or rain ; 
 May memories of a brighter past, 
 Like summer's sunshine onward cast, 
 
 Lead us to hope again. 
 
 Yet eddies still the careless throng, 
 And mirth and jest are passed along, 
 
 Joy lights its torch to-night ; 
 The ball-room holds its whirling crowd. 
 The drama wakens plaudits loud, 
 
 Gems flash upon the sight. 
 
 Still presses on the ardent youth. 
 For him is caged, in simple truth, 
 
THE NEW YEAR, 1 883. 'J'] 
 
 That fluttering bird, To-day. 
 The older man has seen it fly, 
 Glancing perchance with tear-dimmed eye, 
 
 And watched it course away. 
 
 Strong beats the pulse, resolve is set, 
 And will by will conflicting met, 
 
 Closes in party strife ; 
 Yet as they struggle in the fray, 
 But few, beyond the smoke, survey 
 
 The inmost core of life. 
 
78 POEMS. 
 
 ON THE BIRTH OF A DAUGHTER, 
 THE 5TH JULY, 1883. 
 
 r\ CHOICEST of bright summer days, 
 When Nature all her wealth displays, 
 
 Poured on the grateful earth ; 
 What vision girt with purest light, 
 Descends to bless our anxious sight ? 
 
 An infant's longed-for birth. 
 
 II. 
 
 This tiny barque shall floated be. 
 On life's unfathomable sea. 
 
 Ne'er to regain the shore ; 
 And, as we hail its onward course, 
 We ask a blessing at the source 
 
 Of Nature's boundless store ! 
 
ON THE BIRTH OF A DAUGHTER. 79 
 
 III. 
 
 The ancients brought their offerings rare 
 Gods to propitiate, who share 
 
 I'he balanced scales of Fate ; 
 And many a bust with wreaths was crowned, 
 What time the wine cup circled round, 
 
 While friends expectant wait. 
 
 IV. 
 
 We ask not dazzling fortune's crown, 
 Or beauty such as few can own, 
 
 To mortal features given ; 
 Rather a sweet content of mind, 
 A heart to others' failings blind, 
 
 Thoughts that have upwards striven ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Oh ! may this blossom bloom a flower, 
 Nourished by light, refreshed by shower. 
 
 In life's fair garden placed ; 
 May its expanding form recall 
 Visions that soft at eve-tide fall, 
 
 Hopes on Time's ground plan traced ! 
 
80 POEMS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Child, girl, or woman, may her life 
 Flow onwards free from passion's strife, 
 
 Graced by affection's smile : 
 May each year bring from virtue's store, 
 As gift, one priceless jewel more, 
 
 As thought matures the while. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Stand on reflection's slope ; survey 
 The teeming interests of to-day, 
 
 A torrent's foaming force ; 
 All here begins, the cradle lies. 
 Problem for man's enquiring eyes. 
 
 Of mighty stream the source ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 For generations come and pass, 
 Each holds aloft that shifting glass 
 In which life's fragments lie ; 
 
 Each has its wishes, hopes, and fears. 
 
 Its vivid joys, its secret tears, 
 Its thoughts that cannot die ! 
 
8i 
 
 DAY OF BAPTISM, 7™ SEPT., 1883. 
 
 TIT AIL to the day that's now begun ! 
 We pray that this revolving sun 
 
 May bathe our souls in light ; 
 Disturbing thoughts away be cast, 
 All weary cares renounced and past, 
 
 Whilst hopes our hearts unite. 
 
 II. 
 
 For now a message hath been sent, 
 Of peace and joy and full content, 
 
 Enshrined in infant's form : 
 Of innocence the spotless bloom, 
 A ray of light athwart life's gloom, 
 
 Arc that survives the storm. 
 
 G 
 
82 POEMS. 
 
 III. 
 
 And now has dawned that blessed day, 
 Wherein with earnest minds we pray 
 
 For purity and peace. 
 Pray that one soul untouched remain 
 By wayward passion's galling chain, 
 
 Or cares that never cease. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The Mediaeval Church is there, 
 And voices blend in earnest prayer, 
 
 Where generations trod ; 
 The mystic rite is finished now, 
 And cross impressed on infant's brow, 
 
 Unites a soul to God. 
 
 The hour of birth and baptism's day. 
 What varied thoughts that idly play. 
 
 May on this theme unite, 
 The One that gives us all to see, 
 And that ordained to set us free 
 
 From evil Nature's blight. 
 
DAY OF BAPTISM. 8^ 
 
 VI. 
 
 In vain, alas, are many born 
 Whose follies hold them up to scorn, 
 
 With every noble mind ; 
 Years spent in fashion's idle joy, 
 I*>'o thought life's precious gifts t' employ, 
 
 To virtuous action blind. 
 
 VII. 
 
 For each that to this font is brought, 
 We pray that every purer thought 
 
 May, as life's billows roll, 
 Be cherished to increase the store 
 Of plants that bloom on Virtue's shore 
 
 And elevate the soul. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Grant then, O Lord, Thy crowning grace 
 O may each infant's blooming face 
 
 Be mirror of a mind ; 
 Earnest in works of good to share, 
 Zealous in act, entranced by prayer. 
 
 To all Thy will resigned ! 
 
84 POEMS. 
 
 LINES ON A YOUNG GIRL WHO 
 DIED IN HER i2th YEAR. 
 
 00 soon departed ! yet that vision bright 
 
 Seems with us still : 
 The lines traced by that "phantom of delight " 
 Our memory fill. 
 
 II. 
 
 Loved was she from the time when first she lay 
 
 By mother's side ; 
 As thankful hearts marked the auspicious day 
 
 In radiance glide. 
 
 III. 
 
 Hushed are the tones that sympathies awake 
 
 With infants' call, 
 As though some deeper voice from Nature spake 
 
 And hallowed all. 
 
ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG GIRL.' 85 
 
 IV. 
 
 And, later, when unfolding childhood brought 
 
 Beauty and grace, 
 Each year some fresh attraction still we sought 
 
 In that dear face. 
 
 V. 
 
 For mirrored there in magic lines there grew 
 
 Intelligence ; 
 The beautiful engrafted on the true 
 
 With ripening sense. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Ten years had flown, and still we watched the 
 flower 
 
 With earnest pride : 
 On it was poured affection's priceless dower, 
 
 And all beside. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Let fall the curtain, vainly man demands 
 
 Respite from fate ; 
 Vain all the struggles of weak human hands. 
 
 Early or late. 
 
86 POKMS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Of destiny none can by force unlock 
 
 The brazen door. 
 "What must be, shall be," and grief's tearful 
 shock 
 
 Comes evermore, 
 
 IX. 
 
 Canst thou arrest the eagle's towering flight, 
 
 The cyclone's force ; 
 Or quench the rays from central fount of light, 
 
 That ceaseless course ? 
 
 X, 
 
 Stand, then, aside, accepting all that falls 
 
 From Nature's law. 
 While listing to her mystic voice which calls 
 
 In sounds of awe. 
 
 XI. 
 
 So mayst thou see again visions in air 
 
 Of brighter hue ; 
 Some rainbow tints, which glancing past despair, 
 
 Reflect the true. 
 
ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG GIRL, 8/ 
 
 XII. 
 
 All is not lost, fresh springs the fount of hope 
 
 From Time's scarred rock ; 
 Fresh bloom the flowers where lately none could 
 cope 
 
 With tempest's shock. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Again, perchance, may beauty's lines unite 
 
 In radiant form ; 
 Again an infant's face, serenely bright, 
 
 Beam through the storm. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Nature's deep bosom with fresh increase swells — 
 
 Joy comes again ! 
 In human breasts no feeling constant dwells — 
 
 Pleasure or pain. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Why then, O man, thy petty shadow take 
 
 To measure life ; 
 Sorrow and joy shall shade or sunshine make — 
 
 Peace conquer strife. 
 
88 POEMS. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Birth, life, and death extend to utmost verge 
 
 Of Nature's plan : 
 Whilst rolls for ever Time's unresting surge. 
 
 Surrounding man. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Greatest or humblest then alike must bow 
 
 To laws of fate. 
 How vain to seek the whence, the why, or how. 
 
 Of mortal state. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Thrice happy who have found the wise and true, 
 
 Whilst yet they live. 
 Mists veil no more of duty's path the view, 
 
 If zeal we give. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 On Nature's bosom place this slender form, 
 
 Supremely blest ; 
 Saved from the wreck-strewn beach of life's 
 great storm, 
 
 In hallowed rest. 
 
89 
 
 MEDITATIONS ON DEATH. 
 
 No. I. 
 
 PERCHANCE 'tis best to die alone, 
 On some hill slope we oft have trod, 
 
 Listening to Nature's softer tone, 
 With reverence looking up to God ! 
 
 For oh, how little can be done 
 
 By friends who ministering stand : 
 
 Man leaves for aye life's cheerful sun, 
 He sees, through mists, a shadowy land. 
 
 Nor can the formulas of creeds 
 True solace to the mind convey. 
 
 In hour supreme the spirit needs 
 Assurance of a brighter day. 
 
 Some sentiment of the divine 
 Ethereal presence, girt with light. 
 
 As round our wandering footsteps shine 
 The starry glories of the night. 
 
90 POEMS. 
 
 The warm routine of life that throws 
 Its network round the cirding day, 
 
 The table's cheer, the fire that glows, 
 The calls of leisure, work, or play. 
 
 The family and friends who weave 
 
 That web, through which affection's light 
 
 So kindly beams, all we must leave. 
 And Nature's varying aspects bright. 
 
 Life's landscape, then, must one day fade, 
 But how do men the prospect view ? 
 
 The greater part, their life-path made, 
 The busy tasks of time pursue. 
 
 And few the universal scheme 
 
 Of Nature to be best allow ; 
 "If all must die," why should it seem 
 
 So hard to tread that pathway now. 
 
 If some are happy; and enjoy 
 
 The vigorous spring of constant health, 
 How many biting cares annoy, 
 
 How close does misery dwell to wealth ! 
 
MEDITATIONS ON DEATH. 9 1 
 
 How sharply can the passions sting, 
 Ambition's fall, the dread recoil, 
 
 When snapped is energy's frail spring, 
 And blighted lie the fruits of toil ! 
 
 Shall we then hesitate to go, 
 
 Where all who strove have gone before ? 
 The hero with his plume of snow, 
 
 The sage endowed with wisdom's store ; 
 
 The Captains of the ancient days ; 
 
 The high philosophers who taught 
 Truth to explore, 'mid error's maze. 
 
 And knowledge by experience bought ! 
 
 Yet humbly must we own that few 
 Have shaken off the chains of sense. 
 
 Or pleasure's welcome calls subdue. 
 For that dim future's dread suspense. 
 
92 POEMS. 
 
 No. 2. 
 
 Life's stream that bubbled on its course, 
 Now turns aside from mortal eye, 
 
 And spent its onward gushing force, 
 Leaves but a bed with gravel dry. 
 
 'Tis sad to wait mid lingering pain, 
 
 The moment of a last farewell, 
 To hear the creaking of Time's chain, 
 
 And gloomy waters' mournful swell. 
 
 Saddest when clouds of deep regret, 
 
 Environ the last hours of life, 
 And vainly striving to forget. 
 
 The mind recalls bl^nd passion's strife. J^ f 
 
 When evil's ensign was displayed, 
 And virtue's temple lost to view, 
 
 The turning point where choice was made, 
 And the false triumphed o'er the true. 
 
MEDITATIONS ON DEATH. 93 
 
 The force that bounteous Nature gave, 
 Lavished on brief excitement's day. 
 
 No hand that vessel's course to save, 
 Which drifts, dismasted wreck, away. 
 
 No. 3. 
 
 Birth, Marriage, Death, in triple union hold. 
 As in a vase, the precious juice of life : 
 
 Simple yet mystic emblems which enfold 
 Limits of mortal happiness or strife. 
 
 The drop minute that falls like cloud-sent rain 
 Increases yearly, till it foams in force ; 
 
 Yet adverse influences fraught with pain, 
 Subdue its efforts in its onwa;-d course. 
 
 At length, with volume lessened, it departs, 
 Evaporated 'neath Time's ardent ray — 
 
 Its sad decline mourned by congenial hearts, 
 Where fled we know not, yet forbid to stay. 
 
94 POEMS. 
 
 By the same law that first distilled the drop, 
 Floats the exhausted vapour on its way. 
 
 The vision fades, life's pulses sudden stop, 
 No more to wanton in their vigorous play. 
 
 No. 4. 
 
 To die in love's embrace on summer's day,* 
 Or, as the statesman called for scents and 
 flowerSjt 
 
 Or when the guillotine in shadow lay. 
 
 With wane and oysters to beguile the hours.J 
 
 All these are fruits of philosophic mind, 
 Lifted above vain superstitious fears. 
 
 Yet certain incompleteness here we find, 
 
 If death close not the door on joy and tears. 
 
 Rather we follow where that youth still leads, 
 Who, with his torch extinguished, § beckons on. 
 
 Not dropped to earth, but kept for future need, 
 To flame once more, when brighter life is won. 
 
 * Ovid Amor, 2, 10. t Mirabeau. J Due de Biron. 
 § Greek symbol of death. 
 
95 
 
 ON THE FIRST HOUR OF A 
 NEW YEAR. 
 
 np H E year is gone, alas ! what varied projects 
 
 with it die, 
 What schemes whose ruined scaffoldings around 
 
 disjointed He ; 
 How many efforts all in vain, how niany hopes 
 
 deceived, 
 And hearts that hailed its opening dawn, now 
 
 silent and bereaved. 
 
 II. 
 
 How many who, a year gone by, rode high on 
 
 fortune's wave. 
 Now seek some plank whereon they may their 
 
 all from ruin save ; 
 
g6 POEMS. 
 
 And others, who were climbing up ambition's 
 
 slippery stair, 
 Lie prostrate and inert beneath the whelming 
 
 flood of care. 
 
 III. 
 
 Death has its harvest reaped and left sad voids 
 
 no joy can fill. 
 Deep rolls time's flood o'er many a wreck ; loved 
 
 voices now are still, 
 And weeping eyes refuse to greet the gladsome 
 
 morning light, 
 Earth's landscape blooms no longer fair upon 
 
 their sorrowing sight. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Not so to all, a birth has come with promise 
 
 bright and fair, 
 Some infant voice has sounded in the still, crisp, 
 
 morning air ; 
 A mother's lips have joyful kissed the new 
 
 developed form, 
 Whilst tear-drops bathed in light remain, last 
 
 relics of the storm. 
 
FIRST HOUR OF A NEW YEAR. 97 
 
 Away sad thoughts, the year is born, its opening 
 
 day we hail, 
 Oh may the cause of right and truth in life's 
 
 great fight prevail ; 
 Our heart beats firm with confidence as through 
 
 the silent night 
 We view the star of hope on high, and wait 
 
 returning light. 
 
 FI 
 
98 POEMS. 
 
 ON HEARING A LADY SING. 
 
 /^FTEN as men have praised 
 The magic power of sound, 
 
 When voices heavenward raised, 
 
 Dispense its gifts around ; 
 Yet somewhat there remains to say 
 Of that bright gift which charms life's day. 
 
 II. 
 
 Sing, like the joyous bird, 
 
 Whose untaught accents thrill, 
 
 At morn or evening heard. 
 
 Or at the noon-tide still — 
 Where some majestic forest " heaves 
 In air its wilderness of leaves." 
 
ON HEARING A LADY SING. 99 
 
 III. 
 
 Sing, as the child of Art, 
 
 When many a studious hour 
 
 Doth finished grace impart, 
 
 And vivifying power, — 
 Till strains divine men's hearts enthral, 
 The " Queen of Song " acclaimed by all. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Sing, when the heart is glad, 
 
 And all things seem to say, 
 
 That nothing mean or sad 
 
 Can touch our lives to-day. 
 We walk in youth's exultant power. 
 Naught seems too great for that glad hour. 
 
 Oh ! sing, when sorrow's near, 
 Its shadow creeping still. 
 And clouds with aspect drear. 
 Our life's horizon fill. 
 That voice leads to remembrance shore 
 And forms that we behold no more. 
 
lOO POEMS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Sing, then, that song again ; 
 The echoes softly fall. 
 So precious is the strain, 
 We would its charm recall. 
 Sing, and disperse those clouds of life 
 Which linger in their lurid strife. 
 
lOI 
 
 L'ANGE ET L'ENFANT. 
 (From the French of Reboul.) 
 
 "TN radiance bright an angel clad, 
 Beside an infant's cot reclining, 
 Saw of- its form the image laid 
 
 As on some streamlet's surface shining. 
 
 "Sweet infant, come," that angel said, 
 " Oh come with me my lot to share ; 
 
 Partake of bliss, immortal made — 
 Earth has no claims for one so fair. 
 
 " Here are no pleasures constant found ; 
 
 Joy seems on sorrow's confines creeping ; 
 Its accents breathe a mournful sound, 
 
 As though for friends departed weeping. 
 
 " Fear steals along the festal hall : 
 
 No day so bright but that the morrow, 
 
 As winds obey the tempest's call, 
 May see its sun go down in sorrow. 
 
I02 POEMS. 
 
 " Shall troubled thoughts or worldly care 
 Deform that brow where calmness lies ? 
 
 Shall tears which sorrow's anguish share 
 Bedim the light of those sweet eyes ? 
 
 " No ! soaring to the realms of bliss. 
 Thou shalt my lov'd companion be ; 
 
 Heaven in its mercy grants thee this, 
 And cancels future woes for thee. 
 
 " Let none throughout thy cherished home 
 For thee the garb of mourning wear ; 
 
 May thy last hour as joyful come, 
 
 As when thy face first beamed so fain 
 
 " No clouded brow around be seen, 
 Nor sigh of sorrow mingled there : 
 
 For purity like thine I ween 
 
 The latest moments happiest are." 
 
 And so that angel took his flight, 
 Each radiant wing in air outspread. 
 
 To mansions of eternal light. 
 
 Mother be calm — thy babe is dead L 
 
I03 
 
 LA MORT. 
 
 (From the French of Madame Tastu.) 
 
 TUST entering on the voyage of life, 
 The infant smiles on future years ; 
 Death looms afar in cloudy strife, — 
 
 In the dim distance he appears. 
 The babe sees not this fleeting shade, 
 To mother's eye apparent made ; 
 But smiles in innocent delight, 
 His morn dreams not of coming night. 
 
 Death, too, is there when childhood's day 
 (While sands run swiftly from time's glass), 
 
 On couch of pain, no longer gay. 
 
 Sees that veiled form in silence pass : 
 
 Through many a solitary hour, 
 
 A vague inquietude will lower. 
 
 And on that spectre fix the eyes — 
 
 Later that veil obscure will rise. 
 
104 POEMS. 
 
 There comes an hour to trustful youth, 
 When roseate hope no more appears, 
 An hour of pain, when sorrow's truth 
 
 Brings to our eyes the first sad tears I 
 The world is to our eyes laid bare, 
 And death, perchance, appeareth fair, 
 In angel's form, sublime and vast, 
 A veil of mourning round him cast. 
 
 With palest flowers his brow is crowned, 
 And like a friend he draweth near, 
 
 No aspects dread his form surround. 
 
 Life's torch, that erst shone out so clear. 
 
 Now prone on earth extinguished lies ; 
 
 At death's command our suffering flies ; 
 
 With hope each feature now is gleaming 
 
 Pointing where light celestial's beaming. 
 
 In noon-day sun of life we bask, 
 
 And then, the morning's vapour gone. 
 
 He wears no more the angel's mask ; 
 The clouds disperse ; death stands alone. 
 
LA MORT. 105 
 
 Approaching still, we more do fear, 
 For the world's treasures now are dear ; 
 Rank, fame, success, our minds enthral ; 
 Must, then, this spectre seize them all ? 
 
 Years pass, the vision meets our eye, 
 Soon to survey our journey's end, 
 
 And as the sweeping shadows fly. 
 
 That eve with morn no more to blend. 
 
 Our steps are slow, from care and years. 
 
 Death, stealing light from life, appears ; 
 
 His awful blow dense vapours hide 
 
 And yet we feel him by our side. 
 
 Friends who have loved my humble strain, 
 
 Welcome these rays from truth's bright 
 star, — 
 A woman's hour of joy or pain, 
 
 Undestined to be known afar. 
 Yet on these lines of earnest thought. 
 
 May rest a sympathizing eye, 
 The mind by life's experience taught. 
 
 May softly echo — all must die ! 
 
I06 POEMS. 
 
 THE KING OF THE SEVEN 
 MOUNTAINS.* 
 
 (A Legend — from the German.) 
 
 rpHERE reigned a King in Rhineland, his 
 
 name no more is known, — 
 The good old King they called him, in country 
 
 and in town. 
 Seven hills with castles owned his sway, seven 
 
 children had he there, — 
 And 'neath the sun no youths more brave, no 
 
 maidens were more fair. 
 
 II. 
 
 He mounted oft, the kindly man, with knights 
 
 of noble race ! 
 At cottage door, each child knew well that brave 
 
 old monarch's face ; 
 
 * Near Koenigswenter, on the Rhine. 
 
THE KING OF THE SEVEN MOUNTAINS. 10/ 
 
 And when, at length, his life's last hour he felt 
 
 was drawing near, 
 Seven gallant Counts transported him to the 
 
 highest mountain there, 
 
 III. 
 
 From whence his eye ranged o'er the land where 
 
 sunlight brightly glowed — 
 Through which, with rolling flood, the Rhine in 
 
 course majestic flowed — 
 He marked the mountain's outlines, as in 
 
 glorious light they lay. 
 
 And the verdant grassy valleys, steeped in the 
 bloom of May ; 
 
 IV. 
 
 He saw the towers and churches, with their 
 
 pinnacles so proud, 
 Glancing above the rolling stream, like rocks 
 
 o'er ocean's flood, 
 And there he sat him gently down 'till evening's 
 
 twilight came. 
 And his brave old heart with gladness filled, 
 
 though weak his feeble frame. 
 
Io8 POEMS. 
 
 V. 
 
 He spake, " Thou noble river, whose restless 
 
 wave still flows ; 
 In truth, the fairest stream art thou on which 
 
 the sunlight rose, 
 And to leave thee now, for ever, is the sorest 
 
 pang to me, 
 Ere I go beyond the grave to join my valiant 
 
 ancestry. 
 
 VI. 
 
 " With noble hearts around thee, thou deep and 
 
 rapid Rhine, 
 Farewell, may Heaven's own purest ray for ever 
 
 on thee shine." 
 He bless'd the land and people, in the eve's 
 
 last gleam of light, 
 Too strong was the emotion, for his brave heart 
 
 broke outright. 
 Such is the ancient legend, his name no more is 
 
 known. 
 But his blessing rests on Rhineland, with the 
 
 aged King's renown. 
 
I09 
 
 REPOSE IN DEATH. 
 (From Espronceda.) 
 
 A N islet of repose am I, 
 Amid life's ocean cast, 
 As storm-tossed mariners descry, 
 The tempest stilled and past. 
 
 There, unto slumbers deep invite 
 The noiseless, limpid stream, 
 
 And waveless breath of Zephyr light. 
 I am the flick'ring beam 
 
 That falls on brows oppressed with care 
 
 In full unconscious sleep ; 
 What time, my shadowy wings of air, 
 
 Their careful vigils keep. 
 
 The mystic virgin queen am I, 
 
 Of last and purest love ; 
 My elect on flower-strewn couches lie, 
 
 All thorns my hands remove. 
 
no POEMS. 
 
 There, hushed is care, no doubt can reach, 
 Disputes are heard no more ; 
 
 Secrets of import deep I teach, 
 And mysteries explore. 
 
 Come, and repose thy fevered head, 
 Thy dreams shall tranquil be, 
 
 In regions of pure calm thy bed, 
 From noise and tumult free. 
 
 Far from the strife of men, from lies 
 
 That still deceive the crowd. 
 False joys and hopes of victories. 
 
 Which but illusions shroud !